I sort of want to be here during the Resurrection just for the party!
-C. at Westminster
Westminster Abbey is one word: Incredible. I’ve gotten used to tripping over all sorts of dead people on this holiday, but no matter how many times I visit I never get used to the sheer number of people crammed together in that place.
Westminster Abbey
Walking in you’re smacked directly with Disraeli and Pitt (props to any Americans who know who they are), as well as a huge mass of Waterloo heroes, then you stumble through (over/around/between…) the ranks of about a million medieval kings and queens (of varying degrees of loathe-ability). And half of the floor is made up of funerary slabs so worn you’ve NO idea who your shuffling over, I’m surprised the place isn’t haunted by a brigade of disgruntled ghosts. Poet’s Corner is enough to make any reasoning and reading person’s eyes drop out: Goldsmith, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Handel, Austen, every poet known to have written a word of English, and a smattering of actors and actresses. Where do they find the room to commemorate, much less bury these people!
Of COURSE we can't take pictures in the Cathedral itself, but the cloisters are fair game. Home to such interesting sights as funeral effigies of some long dead monarchs and Britain's oldest door. Thing's over a thousand years and still kickin!
We also walked a bit along the Thames to get the requisite tourist shots of the Houses of Parliament before going to the Churchill Museum, housed in the underground bunker-like War Cabinet Rooms preserved from WWII. Then finished up the day with a walk through St. James’ Park…sort of. Note to future travellers, busses do not always go where they advertise to go, beware of maliciously smiling drivers. Luckily, Kiri and I found the whole two hour trek through the ghettos of London more funny than anything and celebrated with Nutella!
Houses of Parliament and Big BenSt. James' ParkThe birds at the park are awful showoffs, strutting around and flapping their wings all the time...and it seems to be paying off because they are all fat off of tourists who reward them with all sorts of treats
It’s okay, he doesn’t know any better.
-My mother about N.A.R. who said he prefered Oxford to Cambridge (blasphemy)
As promised, a picture of our strapping punter. For lack of a better name we called him James (thinking it sounded good and English) but I took some new friends to Cambridge again this past weekend and imagine our suprise that when they wanted a punt tour as well, we nearly ended up with “James” again! Thankfully, for Kiri and I, we were spared that embarassment and got his equally attractive and charming friend C.J. to ferry us about, and we learned that “James'” real name is Scott. However, I think he was always be (fondly) remembered as James to the girls.
Ignore how "good" I look in this and instead focus on the charming Englishman we found to "mind" us
We also went to Hampton Court this past week. It’s not Versailles, but I can definitely see why Henry decided to, er, acquire this palace as his own. It was a great example of both the Tudor and Georgian styles, and it’s a place that you can tell has had a lot of personalities have lived there. We got to see a short skit of Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Rochford and Sir Francis Bryan, which was a treat for me because I’m a great fan of young mistress Anne. Stylish, ridiculously intelligent, clever, and just the tiniest bit ruthless. She may have gotten her head chopped off, but by golly she got a crown on it first!
Hampton Court. Cardinal Thomas Wolsey built it and gave it as a present to Henry VIII, who reacted in his typical manner of stripping the cardinal of power a few years later and condemning him to death.
A costume exhibit from The Other Boleyn Girl at Hampton
The clock in Hampton's inner court
The Haunted Corridor, where Catherine Howard - another of Henry's wives, that man got around - is said to still lurk
Guys, this is where it happened… -Amy looking at Jane Austen’s writing table
Yes, of course I’m talking about Jane Austen’s house in Chawton (don’t worry, I can feel the men’s eyes glazing over as I write this). I am a lover of Austen’s writing, I think she captured the small details of a rather small and confined world with quick wits and a keen sense of the ridiculous, whatever those eye-rollers may have to say about it. I also love the English countryside, there is nothing like it in the world. My parents live in Suffolk by Cambridgeshire and it really is a pretty place in a quiet and simple way. The summer is nice, but I love and live for the winter when the fens are covered in fog and the air is crisp…nothing beats that.
But I digress. Chawton is another of those quiet hamlets that just make you sigh in contentment looking at it. It’s a pub, a tearoom, a great house, a church, and a smattering of country cottages that makes you feel like it must have been sitting in the countryside like that for centuries unchanged. The Austen house itself is small and prettily kept with lovely gardens, but you can tell that the women who lived there had a very quiet and uneventful life. Just makes you appreciate her insights into the foibles of humanity and society that much more keenly!
The Austen House in Chawton
The writing table she wrote her stories on.
And, of course, across the street we discovered a fabulous little tearoom called Cassandra’s Cup, probably named after Jane’s sister. Dr. Chapman, the sort of man who just keeps going until someone pulls on the reigns, was apparently looking all over for his troop of thirty young women and found us eating scones and drinking hot chocolate completely content.
Casandra's Cup, tearoom and B&B
We were storing up energy for our next stop, Salisbury Cathedral (with the best preserved copy of Magna Carta in its archives) and then on to Stonehenge. Natalia’s remark looking at it, “Oh, that’s it?” It is a bit underwhelming, but something everyone needs to see at least once in their lives!
The site of a thousand horrendous and bloody ritual human slaughters and debaucheries. Or a very large calendar. Historians are still divided.
“…there’ll be no public sex, so you’re quite safe…”
-snippet of overheard conversation at Cambridge
I’m shamefully behind on these updates! It’s hard to keep up with all the things we get to do, I’ll have to come back to some of my stories later and just get up to speed on the last week!
Debate all you want about Oxford vs. Cambridge, but my heart belongs irrevocably to the latter. Don’t ask me why, I don’t think I could even tell you, I will always just love it more. I’m arbitrary like that. It’s close to where my family lives so I got to take some friends home for the weekend. We also went to Bury St. Edmund’s, where the barons came up with the idea for the Magna Carta (a copy of which I saw at Salisbury, by the way), and another place where Henry VIII made a complete jerk of himself and knocked down for its wealth in later centuries.
Bury St. Edmund’s Cathedral. The organist was playing while we were there, the music just echoes throughout the whole thing, it was truly gorgeous
The celing of King’s College Chapel. One of the few things Henry VIII contributed, even if Anne’s initials are carved everywhere (oops for him). At last, a church he manage to NOT tear down…
We also took a punting trip on the Cam river and, naturally, the pictures for it are on the other computer, but I’ll add those tomorrow so everyone can enjoy the strapping young man we girls got to row us around Cambridge (everyone should be a bit jealous, I might add).
I’m still behind, but I promise to catch up more tomorrow!
Any Americans in the group? You on holiday or are you here to learn the language?
-Ravenmaster at the Tower of London
We’ve been so busy frolicking that it’s hard to get pictures up fast enough! Spent yesterday at the Tower and today at the Globe Theatre watching The Merry Wives of Windsor, and are going to Chawford, Salisbury, and Stonehenge tomorrow, before heading home to Cambridge for a relaxing weekend. I think I may need a vacation from this vacation before this is done…
Kiri and I at Tower BridgeThe White TowerYeoman Warder Ravenmaster (full title!) Derrick CoyleThe Queen's House, so called because Henry VIII had it built for Anne Boleyn upon their marriage...and thoughtfully imprisoned her there later prior to her execution. Delightful man, Henry.
The Globe Stage
We also got to see Wicked as a group, and though I liked it, I have to admit Les Mis was a lot better. I’ll get pictures from the Tower up as soon as I can, in the meantime I’ve discovered another gastronomic gem in Kensington: the Kensington Creperie! All crepes all the time, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert and all delicious. Do check it out if ever you’re in the borough!
Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.
-Oscar Wilde
Went to Oxford and spent the day at Magdalen College (home of two of my favorite writers who otherwise have nothing in common – C.S. Lewis and Oscar Wilde), had lunch on the Thames, and then dashed off to the Oxford University Press for a surprisingly engrossing lecture on the Oxford English Dictionary! The people who work on that thing truly love words, it’s an education just to hear them talk! Our lecturer’s favorite word: Twiffler! It’s the plate that’s a size smaller than a dinner plate and a size larger than a salad plate; Dutch in origin, it comes from a word that means “two feelings,” so it literally means a plate that can’t make up it’s mind.
Magdalen College CourtThe Tower at Magdalen, seen from the cloister
Gate to Addison’s Walk
The cityThe Spires of Oxford
I also got to see Les Miserables (finally!) at the Queen’s Theatre in London.
“Ok, new plan: we become high-class courtesans and live like this everyday. We’ll go corporate, that way when people ask us what we do we can say, ‘We’re in International Business.'”
“International Relations!”
“International Affairs!”
-C., Kiri, Marie
Even in London there are small slices of other places to be found, I have located mini-me Paris! Right across the street from the Old Vic Theatre is a very hip/posh restauarnt completely owned and staffed by Frenchmen: the Waterloo Brasserie. Eating there was a luxury because you get the feel of being very important without breakin the wallet! It’s apparently The Place To Go before the plays because they have a “pre-theatre” menu which is very reasonably priced, even for an impoverished student with a backbreaking exchange rate. I got to practice my long neglected French with the waitstaff and had a croque monsieur, but don’t be fooled! This thing was a marvel of French grilling, topped with cream cheese that had baked to a golden crisp and served on a plate artistically splashed with pesto and balsamic vinegar, the taste of which you got just at the end of every bite. To die for! I even indulged with a dessert, Crumble Aux Baies Rouges (Berry Crumble) and then dashed across the street to the theatre with the girls in time to catch the final bell. Really, it’s enough to make one feel quite important!
The play we saw was Pygmalion at The Old Vic Theatre and was a great deal of fun. Higgins and Pickering were delightfully done, but I thought Eliza’s actress was a bit wanting (the real gem was Tony Haygarth playing Alfred Doolittle). But really, after an evening like that, I can’t possibly complain!
Finally in a place with regular internet connection and can start posting about my summer “abroad!” We’re now in London, but we spent a week in the Irish countryside and it was spectacularly gorgeous. And so, my adventures…
DINGLE Hm, it’s a bit of a one dolphin town, huh? -C.
We flew into Shannon and were coached to the Dingle Peninsula, literally the edge of Western Civilization until either the Spanish, Portuguese, Vikings, Chinese, or Irish (depending on which history book you read) made things very aggravating by stumbling across an entirely new set of continents. We went straight from the airport to Bunratty Castle, where we were toured about by a cute, hyper old Irishman.
We stayed in the Rainbow Hostel, which was a farmhouse until the family converted it into a hostel. I’d recommend it. Despite the cramping one expects of any hostel, it offers a great kitchen area for mixing and mingling, lovely walks in the Irish countryside, and is about five minutes away from Dingle itself.
We also got to see some ruins like the Gallarus Oratory and a church linked to St. Kevin which had an Ogham stone (ancient Celtic script) with a oath hole in it. Apparently, if you needed to swear some sort of vow, you stuck a finger through the hole, touched somone elses, and it was binding. This one was often used for marriages in the absence of priests!
Oath bound
Dingle itself is a small seaside town, whose most famous resident is a dolphin named Fungie who showed up sometime in the 1980s and seems to have stayed on ever since. Don’t expect a metropolis, but take advantage of the country! The town itself is very pretty, all brightly painted houses, pubs, and the gorgeous Irish sea. It’s also home to Murphy’s Ice Cream parlor which is rather proud of it’s general Irishness (the cream is made from a breed of cow found only in Ireland and fed on Irish grass, etc.), but let me tell you, it pays out! That stuff is to die for!
We spent the next day bussing around the Dingle Penninsula, and it is beautiful country! We stopped by Famine Cottages, relics from the Potato Famine that ravaged the country over a century ago, but the effects of which are still felt. We had slightly more upbeat adventures though, such as when a small dog decided to dash onto our bus and howl bloody murder when Dr. Chapman promptly removed him!
Me on the edge of EuropeThe Irish coast
KILKENNY How did my bra get under YOUR bed?! – L.
That night we stayed in a castle (yes, you read that right) that dates back to the 15th century. The family was reduced to the state of peasants by Oliver Cromwell and forced to live in the stables. AND it’s haunted by two ghosts, one a lady who’s father pushed her down the stairs which snapped her neck and the other a soldier who fell asleep on watch and was pushed off the tower by his officer. What it is with pushing people down things in this place I’ll never know…
Foulksrath Castle, you know you’re jealous…
You’d break your neck too
Our room
Foulksrath Castle’s surrounding wall
Independence Day was celebrated by us having our majority vote to spend time in Killkenny overturned by Dr. Chapman (No vacation without representation!), who took us to Glendelough instead. Which turned out to be gorgeous, let freedom ring. We also saw the Rock of Cashel, seat of the old High Kings, but if you want a helpful tip, you could spend the money to get to see the castle, but there are much better ruins just up the hermitage trail for free!
Founded by St. Kevin, who ran off to the woods to get away from the world and ironically founded a monastery with several hundred followers that now serves as a tourist attraction
One of the two lakes at Glendalough
Rock of Cashel
Monastic Ruins, much better!One of the beautiful crosses at Cashel
Candid shot in the ruins of Cashel
DUBLIN Yeah…we’re Americans! -Le. (believe me, the announcement was unnecessary…)
Dublin is a pretty little city, but when the pleasures of drink, drugs, and debauchery aren’t available, entertainment can get a bit thin. But if you’re a dork like me, you’ve got plenty to see with good friends and a lot of time! Trinity college was a lovely campus that makes me want to weep thinking of the 1960s brick faced buildings of my stateside uni. It also has its fair share of humorous historical incidents. A century ago or so there was a professor who was rather despised by his students. After a night of heavy drinking these academic giants decided to go harass him at his residence on the campus by throwing bricks and garbage through his window. The professor retaliated by firing his pistol in the air to scare them off, but in their inebriated state the students figured he was firing AT them and so dashed off for their own guns. A gun fight over the green ensued and the hapless lecturer wound up dead. The students were pardoned.
Another funny story is of a gentleman who served as the provost of the college for nearly 30. Although his staffed had urged for several years to let women join the college, he adamantly rejected the notion finally declaring one day that “Females will enter this school over my dead body.” He amusingly dropped dead of a heart attack a week later
Amy in front of the cranky provost. That should irk him...
We’re now in London, with more adventures to follow! (Many thanks to Amy for use of several photos, my camera decided to be aggravating for a few days)
Small Dog Syndrome 