a quick tour, and a pensive moment...

Today I took a tour of Salisbury, Stonehenge, and Bath through the Evan Evans tour company. That seems like a lot, and it was. I was reminded why I both love and hate travelling: I thrive off of seeing new places, but we moved so quickly amongst the sights I feel like I did little absorbing. By nature I have an urge to “nest” and “settle in” places (back at Drew, my dorm walls will tell you that story with a simple glance), so it was both tiring and confusing to be rushing from place to place. That all being said, it was worth it. I don’t know when I’ll next be back, and I really enjoying strolling around the towns for the time I could.

Our first stop, Salisbury, was about an hour and a half away from Victoria. Perfect – an opportunity to snooze on the way. I dozed off for a little while and awoke to a small town, containing original buildings from the 14th century. We made our way to the cathedral, obviously one of the only reasons tourists frequent the town, and were told that a service was going on, so we were to occupy ourselves in the town or the restraint for about forty-five minutes. I gladly took the offer, but first, wandered into the central courtyard. The day was brilliantly and miraculously sunny, and puff white clouds floated overhead. As a result of my limited exposure to cathedrals and convents and the like before this trip, I always imagine nuns in straight lines singing their morning prayers, with a troubled Maria running behind them to catch up, still fastening her habit. I really like the idea of old religious buildings, beyond the obvious religious connection. In a superficial way, it is comforting to know that people, both of the pure of heart and ill-intentioned, gathered there to find something. I don’t know what I’m trying to find, at times: I feel in good company with the Gothic archways, reaching towards some imaginary goal. I continued on my candle-lighting tour of Europe, making some small prayers for people back home, and just enjoyed the beauty of the architecture.

Stonehenge was next, and was a pretty surreal experience. We driving through some beautiful English countryside, marveling at the weather, and all the sudden, our tour guide Mel just says, “And you’ll find the stones on your right.” And there they were! These gigantic stones that weigh tons and tons, that had been moved thousands of years ago, just sitting there next to the road. I gathered my audio tour and walked towards the stones. The audio tour got pretty boring after a while, rich with sound effects of people hammering away at the stones. The wind was whipping its way across the fields, really damaging my intention of getting a good “send to Mom and Dad” picture. I did, however, manage to get a cool shot of the light coming over stones. I’ve come to the conclusion that Stonehenge is a cool place to visit once, but once is really enough. I got to marvel at it, wander around a gift shop trying to sell me anything with “Stonehenge Rocks!” screened on to it, and then hop back onto a warm bus. I’ll check that off of 1,001 Places to See Before You Die thank you very much.

Just when I thought I had seen enough of quaint, livable British towns, we stopped in Bath. The town held more charm and warmth in its little Abbey than America holds in its entire stretch of plains. We went into the Roman Baths and the Pump Room first, which were really incredible. I was in awe of how much had remained after its construction, and there were really interesting displays of all the “lost items” that were recovered in the drain when it was excavated, namely the intricately etched stones lost from jewelry. Apparently the warm water would create a chemical reaction and wear away at the glue connecting the stone to the band, so they all ended up in the drain pipe. The Roman people believed that a goddess, Minerva, lived in the hot springs, so a temple that was erected in her honor was specifically made to make offerings and pray to her. Thousands of Roman coins and tokens from other ancient empires were tossed into a sacrifice pool, but more interestingly, the requests were as well. There were tiny sheets of iron, crumpled into a ball, that had been unraveled and translated by scholars. The sheets revealed that revenge is truly an ancient emotion – there were citizens begging Minerva to “kill whoever stole my husband’s leather gloves” and the like. It was truly the center of the town in a lot of ways – a recreational and spiritual center in one. After leaving the Roman Bath and Pump Room, I wandered around the town, grabbed a quick bite to eat, and marveled at how the light’s changed intensity softened the entire world.

I was exhausted when it was time to leave Bath. I wanted nothing more than to go to my own Bath Spa and lounge in a hot spring to unwind and think. Instead I boarded the bus for the three-hour journey back to London. I was in a funk, for little reason other than being painfully aware of time passing, and that my iPod was not helping. (Shuffle decided to play every pensive, depressing song from my collection. There is only so much Simon and Garfunkel, Coldplay, and Sigur Ros a girl can handle without feeling overly wrapped up in her own thoughts.) Thankfully I fall asleep fairly quickly on buses and cars. My dad used to drive me around when I was younger when I couldn’t fall asleep; I’m out like a light still in my twenties when I’m not behind the wheel. I felt a lot better when I woke up, and our tour guide was listing things to be sure not to miss in London. I had done nearly everything he mentioned, and then some. More importantly, I could tell you how they made me feel and what I thought about them. I have accomplished more than I frequently acknowledge, allowed myself time to explore and learn. There’s one of those corny bookmarks I received once that’s quoted in high school yearbooks and Hallmarks across the country: “it’s not the destination, but the journey.” Whether packed into a day, it’s about what these places have taught me about myself and the world around me. I can honestly say that’s worth more than a postcard could ever be.