We took a few-minute bus ride in the morning to Grasmere. Guess who lived there? Bet ya can't figure that out from the title. Give up? It's Wordsworth! Who knew, right?
So we first visited the cemetery where William, Mary, Dorothy, and one of his brothers (John, I think) are buried. They are very simple headstones. He wanted to be buried in Grasmere because he loved it there; he felt it was the place of his childhood, I believe. The museum had memorabilia from his life, some things about life in general at the time, and words about his friendship with Coleridge, and some things about/by Coleridge as well, particularly the entirety of Kubla Khan and the Rime of the Ancient Mariner on different wall displays. There was an exhibit on the Shelleys in the basement, as well.
We then moved on to Dove Cottage. Wordsworth bought it in 1799 and moved in with his sister Dorothy. Shortly afterwards, he married, and by the time they moved out, in 1808, they'd had five children. The cottage had once been a pub, so all the wood paneling was dark, the floors were flagstone, and the rest of the walls were whitewashed. There was also a "cool room" that had a spring running under it, so it stayed constantly cool and was good for storing anything that needed cooler temperatures. We saw Dorothy's room on the first floor, the sitting room, William and Mary's room, the guests' room, and the children's room which was tiny and papered in newspaper to keep it warmer. The gardens were also preserved in the state Wordsworth and Dorothy had kept them--half wild and beautiful.
From there, we hiked to Rydal Mount, where the Wordsworths lived 5 years after leaving Dove Cottage. The house was much, much larger, testament to the fact that Wordsworth was becoming very successful. Actually, the time he was at Dove Cottage was considered to be when he wrote his best poetry, things like I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud and so forth. While he was at Rydal, he was asked to be poet laureate twice. He turned it down the first time because he didn't want to write on demand. So the second time they told him he would not be required to write poetry for all state occasions unless he desired to. Basically, as my professor said, he told them he wouldn't write poetry unless he felt like it, and he never felt like it. Yep, Wordsworth is the only poet laureate who didn't write a bit of poetry (at all) while poet laureate.
The house was very nice. It was two stories tall, it had an even larger garden than the first, there were separate rooms for everyone but William and Mary, he had a study, there was a sitting area, a library, a kitchen, and so forth. Very nice. They had some chairs that you could sit on, which was nice (as I pored over the tour in Welsh, trying to see how much of the language I could remember and what I could interpret because I'm weird like that). They also had things like some of Dorothy's needlework, many pictures of the Wordsworths and of others, several busts and statues, and more memories from the lives of the poet and co.
We finished this day by hiking back to Ambleside to meet the bus, and then driving to a hotel so far out in the middle of nowhere that the hotel was not only not visible from the road, but when we finally got to it from the road, you couldn't hear the traffic. Wonderful night, though--there was a wood-burning fire in the lobby which was wonderful for cold wet feet, and I got my own room for the first time in quite a while, especially since being out here (6 is the fewest in any room at the center or hostel that I've had yet). (Okay, I got the dorm to myself the first night and the room at the apartment in Texas but those aren't quite the same as a private room.) Not to mention the part where we got a very nice dinner with the hotel stay.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Name is Appropriate
The day after, we bid Edinburgh "Guid cheerio the nou!" (...okay, maybe I looked that up, and maybe we just left...) and returned to the north of England, to Potter country. No, not Harry, more hairy. You know, as in little fuzzy animals with names like Peter and Benjamin and Jemima and Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle. Beatrix Potter country. Specifically to a town called Ambleside. The houses there are very nice; they're made of stacked slate and look rather like the walls, except they actually do have cement holding them together. We found our hostel and dumped our stuff, then took off hiking. Let me tell you, if you're a hiking enthusiast, or just like walks through amazing countryside, go to the Lake District. Seriously. Now. (Oh, fine, you don't have to go this very instant, but you should try.)
We hiked up a pike--wish I could tell you the name, but I forgot rather quickly. But it looked over the lake--Grasmere, I think. The woods were very very green and the parts not in woods were through farmland. Through. As in we ran into sheep and cows. It was a bit muddy due to rain (Imagine that! Rain! In England!) but the hiking was otherwise good. Another piece of advice. If you do go hiking, take wellies. Or some type of waterproof shoe that comes up your leg at least to mid-calf. My shoes suffered greatly. But wow, the view from the top. Incredible. We took a little break after cresting to sit and think. I was on a little piece of grass-covered rock that jutted out , so if I looked out and not up, it felt like sitting on the top of the hill. Again, so very green. I could hear chicken and sheep noises rising out of the valley below.
As we got off of that trail, we hiked a bit further to a waterfall. Very impres...okay, I've seen bigger ones, but it was nice all the same. The interesting thing about the waterfall--we got off the pike hike (haha, see what I did there?) and were wondering which direction the waterfall was, so we saw a couple coming down the hill and asked them which direction. The gentleman pointed us down the hill, so we thanked them and went on. As we turned off to the waterfall, the lady (minus the guy) passed us and said "See, there's the waterfall! There! Needed to ask a man." It was a rather scathing tone, too. I really don't know why that was such a big deal to her. Maybe it had felt to her like I was asking the man instead of asking them neutrally?
Anyway...finished that, went back to town, and several of us went out to eat. Again, on Tony's suggestion, we went to find a gluten-free place he'd told us about called Lucy's. He'd forgotten/neglected to mention it was actually Lucy 4's, and a little bit more of a bar than a restaurant. But the dinner was excellent. The look on the waiter's face when we told him none of us would be needing the drink list... Something of a "You're here...why, exactly?" The food was Mediterranean, multiple little dishes coming out and being split around. Excellent food. Pricey, perhaps, but tasty. There were figs, olives, meats, vegetables, all cooked well. After that we grabbed two things of ice cream and ate those back at the hostel. Good times.
Incidentally, remember how I mentioned Beatrix Potter in the beginning? Well, as we were driving out to the Lake District, Tony pointed out some sheep that were mottled gray and white, telling us that the breed owed its continued existence to said author. Apparently, she bought many of the farms from the big land-owners (not the farmers who actually lived there; they hadn't ever owned the farms to start with) to prevent them from being built up. That particular breed of sheep had been dying out because people weren't raising them any more--according to Tony, they weren't good for wool because it didn't dye well, and the meat wasn't much good either. Beatrix Potter wanted to save them, so she offered incentives to people to continue raising them. And Rachel, one of the TA's here, found a rug-maker who argues the "the wool doesn't dye well" idea; I've got a cone of it, actually, that says it looks pretty good dyed.
Tony also told us that the air force uses this as a training ground for pilots, and there have been times he's been driving and jets have flown past him lower than the coach.
Incidentally, remember how I mentioned Beatrix Potter in the beginning? Well, as we were driving out to the Lake District, Tony pointed out some sheep that were mottled gray and white, telling us that the breed owed its continued existence to said author. Apparently, she bought many of the farms from the big land-owners (not the farmers who actually lived there; they hadn't ever owned the farms to start with) to prevent them from being built up. That particular breed of sheep had been dying out because people weren't raising them any more--according to Tony, they weren't good for wool because it didn't dye well, and the meat wasn't much good either. Beatrix Potter wanted to save them, so she offered incentives to people to continue raising them. And Rachel, one of the TA's here, found a rug-maker who argues the "the wool doesn't dye well" idea; I've got a cone of it, actually, that says it looks pretty good dyed.
Tony also told us that the air force uses this as a training ground for pilots, and there have been times he's been driving and jets have flown past him lower than the coach.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Tartan and Bagpipes
As you can tell from the title, I'm still in Scotland! This is the half of the day after the castle. Before I continue, just wanted to make some notes--the buildings in Scotland, or at least that we saw, are tall. The ceilings are on average 12 feet, instead of 10 as they are in England. Also, there were wool shops and bagpipes and Celtic decorations everywhere--it made me happy. So...on again. Left the castle, found my way to the Writer's Museum. It was a small place, dedicated to Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott, and Robert Louis Stevenson. Much of the display consisted of documents, letters, and paraphernalia. Especially for Stevenson--lots of souvenirs and trinkets from his trips to the south seas and so forth. They also had several locks of hair, which I found intriguing.
From there, I went to the Scottish National Gallery. Pretty cool; very nice artwork. I must say, though, that London has spoiled me for museums; that one felt small. But the band outside was great. Drums, electric guitar, and bagpipe. Sounded great. Also, there are fiberglass wild animals--tigers, alligators, and orangutans--scattered throughout Edinburgh, painted by local artists. My favorite was outside the National Gallery--posh gent sitting on a white tiger with his umbrella out and up. Very fun.
From there I proceeded to the Museum of Modern Art. Turns out there were 2, but I'd spent so long in the castle I was a little behind, so I didn't go to the first half. They had an exhibit by Hiroshi Sugimoto, a photographer. Half of the images were expanded prints of negatives from someone else...sorry, can't remember quite how those worked. The others were black backgrounds that he's run a static current across to create images like lightning. I suppose it literally was lightning, just a more controlled form thereof. Those were my favorites. See also: http://artblart.wordpress.com/2011/09/17/exhibition-hiroshi-sugimoto-scottish-national-gallery-of-modern-art/ I also may or may not have gotten turned around on the way there because the street switched names unexpectedly and then switched back which was rather irritating (it actually did something along the lines of (I), where the I is the street I wanted and the ()s went around it and I saw their names and got really confused) so there is one monument I passed, what, 4 times that day?
After exploring, I met a group of people in front of the museum to make our way to a place called Chocolate Soup. On our way, we saw a street artist who worked with spray paint. Lucky him, he found a group of artists. We all sat and watched from pretty much the beginning until in half an hour or less he'd created a spectacular black-and-white landscape of a waterfall in the woods, detailed and beautiful, using spray paint cans, paper, a knife, and a sponge as tools. We were much impressed and especially admired the methods he used. And so we continued to the Chocolate Soup. They have hot chocolate there. There were 2 flavor options: Dark or White. If you don't like dark chocolate--and I mean if you don't think dark is the best way to eat chocolate and milk-lovers are wimps--then you get white. Or mix the two, if you need the chocolate flavor. I got dark. They put the chocolate syrup in and then added steaming hot milk and the hot chocolate was to die for. (That one's not literal...I think I could survive without tasting it again, but it would be a slightly less satisfying life.) It was rich, it was kind of foamy, and it was so thick (probably the foam) that the straw stood up straight in the middle. No joke. So much molten deliciousness. There was a lady there, too, who was sitting behind me (I was at the end of the long table) who kept trying to talk to me but I honestly couldn't understand a word she was saying because she had a soft tone, an accent, a bit of a lisp, and there was other noise. So most of the conversation was me smiling and nodding and trying to turn back to the table but she would keep talking. She also was getting after people for using flash photography--which was because she had epilepsy, so that's understandable--but was then telling them to not take pictures in general, which I admit I didn't understand the reason for. The overall experience was enjoyable, though.
After that, we got some pizza--Sarah, one of my friends, is gluten-intolerant, but so is Tony, so he told her where she could find gluten-free pizza and we all went. On the way there, we stopped by an old book store. Old books, old store, owner not old, more middle-aged. We ended up having a wonderful conversation with him. He told us all about the Scottish-English history, and especially about Mary, Queen of Scots. The conversation ended with a more religious bent (not via the previously mentioned conversation, we talked about where we were from and BYU and it led from there to religion). He was a very interesting man, and he had obviously thought about religion a lot.
And then we get to post-pizza excursions--walking up to a monument overlooking Edinburgh in the dark, all 8 of us. Fun times, fun times. We talked a lot, some people started singing Hercules, general mirth and fellowship abounded, and then we found out we'd gone the long way up, which had been fun of itself. By the time we got back to the hostel, it was well late and we all went straight to bed.
More to follow.
From there, I went to the Scottish National Gallery. Pretty cool; very nice artwork. I must say, though, that London has spoiled me for museums; that one felt small. But the band outside was great. Drums, electric guitar, and bagpipe. Sounded great. Also, there are fiberglass wild animals--tigers, alligators, and orangutans--scattered throughout Edinburgh, painted by local artists. My favorite was outside the National Gallery--posh gent sitting on a white tiger with his umbrella out and up. Very fun.
From there I proceeded to the Museum of Modern Art. Turns out there were 2, but I'd spent so long in the castle I was a little behind, so I didn't go to the first half. They had an exhibit by Hiroshi Sugimoto, a photographer. Half of the images were expanded prints of negatives from someone else...sorry, can't remember quite how those worked. The others were black backgrounds that he's run a static current across to create images like lightning. I suppose it literally was lightning, just a more controlled form thereof. Those were my favorites. See also: http://artblart.wordpress.com/2011/09/17/exhibition-hiroshi-sugimoto-scottish-national-gallery-of-modern-art/ I also may or may not have gotten turned around on the way there because the street switched names unexpectedly and then switched back which was rather irritating (it actually did something along the lines of (I), where the I is the street I wanted and the ()s went around it and I saw their names and got really confused) so there is one monument I passed, what, 4 times that day?
After exploring, I met a group of people in front of the museum to make our way to a place called Chocolate Soup. On our way, we saw a street artist who worked with spray paint. Lucky him, he found a group of artists. We all sat and watched from pretty much the beginning until in half an hour or less he'd created a spectacular black-and-white landscape of a waterfall in the woods, detailed and beautiful, using spray paint cans, paper, a knife, and a sponge as tools. We were much impressed and especially admired the methods he used. And so we continued to the Chocolate Soup. They have hot chocolate there. There were 2 flavor options: Dark or White. If you don't like dark chocolate--and I mean if you don't think dark is the best way to eat chocolate and milk-lovers are wimps--then you get white. Or mix the two, if you need the chocolate flavor. I got dark. They put the chocolate syrup in and then added steaming hot milk and the hot chocolate was to die for. (That one's not literal...I think I could survive without tasting it again, but it would be a slightly less satisfying life.) It was rich, it was kind of foamy, and it was so thick (probably the foam) that the straw stood up straight in the middle. No joke. So much molten deliciousness. There was a lady there, too, who was sitting behind me (I was at the end of the long table) who kept trying to talk to me but I honestly couldn't understand a word she was saying because she had a soft tone, an accent, a bit of a lisp, and there was other noise. So most of the conversation was me smiling and nodding and trying to turn back to the table but she would keep talking. She also was getting after people for using flash photography--which was because she had epilepsy, so that's understandable--but was then telling them to not take pictures in general, which I admit I didn't understand the reason for. The overall experience was enjoyable, though.
After that, we got some pizza--Sarah, one of my friends, is gluten-intolerant, but so is Tony, so he told her where she could find gluten-free pizza and we all went. On the way there, we stopped by an old book store. Old books, old store, owner not old, more middle-aged. We ended up having a wonderful conversation with him. He told us all about the Scottish-English history, and especially about Mary, Queen of Scots. The conversation ended with a more religious bent (not via the previously mentioned conversation, we talked about where we were from and BYU and it led from there to religion). He was a very interesting man, and he had obviously thought about religion a lot.
And then we get to post-pizza excursions--walking up to a monument overlooking Edinburgh in the dark, all 8 of us. Fun times, fun times. We talked a lot, some people started singing Hercules, general mirth and fellowship abounded, and then we found out we'd gone the long way up, which had been fun of itself. By the time we got back to the hostel, it was well late and we all went straight to bed.
More to follow.
Royally Good Times
The next day, we were still in Edinburgh and started the day with a trip to the Edinburgh castle. Where to start? Wow that was awesome. The view from the walls is great, and slightly closer than, say, looking at the city from on top of the mountain of last post. The castle itself has gone through many, many different incarnations. The only parts of it left from the middle ages, for example, are a chapel and some towers buried beneath the rest. The chapel is tiny--a little thing perched on top of a rock with probably enough room to fit 15 people comfortably, 20 if you want to squish. They put in new stained glass windows upon rediscovering it (after it had been used by the army as a powder magazine) and still use it for baptisms and marriages in the army. The other part, the tower, was where the infamous Black Dinner was held.
"Sir William Crichton was keeper of the castle in 1440 when the infamous Black dinner took place. Using his position he invited his arch-rivals the sixth Earl of Douglas and his younger brother, David, to dine with the king in the castle. When the great feast was over Crichton presented the Earl a bulls head which was the sign of condemnation to death. The king protested but to no effect. After dinner the 2 Douglases were dragged to Castle Hill and executed. The Douglas clan then laid seige to Edinburgh Castle and Crichton percieving the danger surrendered the castle to the king and an uneasy truce was declared."
They had a little light slideshow thing on the wall of the castle with some noises in the background to give slight illustration to the story on the placard.
Other interesting parts of the castle--there was a Dragoon Museum, the chambers where Mary, Queen of Scots gave birth to James VI/James I, depending on whether you're Scottish or English, respectively, and the story of and a display case with the Scottish Crown Jewels, including the Stone of Scone which still comes out for coronations.
There was also a very impressive war memorial. There are war memorials all over the UK; many of the museums have something dedicated to the memory of those from that museum who served, especially in one or both of the World Wars, and I found on my first day a memorial in the Baker Street tube station to the former railway employees who had served. The one at the castle wasn't a plaque, it was a whole building. The outside had been carved with images of the virtues in prominent positions, animals representing the vices, and the inside had badges and flags from many regiments, as well as a regularly updated roll of honor, and the original in a cask on a block of marble, under an image of Michael treading on and slaying a dragon. It felt very solemn and I was glad of the chance to see it.
To be continued.
"Sir William Crichton was keeper of the castle in 1440 when the infamous Black dinner took place. Using his position he invited his arch-rivals the sixth Earl of Douglas and his younger brother, David, to dine with the king in the castle. When the great feast was over Crichton presented the Earl a bulls head which was the sign of condemnation to death. The king protested but to no effect. After dinner the 2 Douglases were dragged to Castle Hill and executed. The Douglas clan then laid seige to Edinburgh Castle and Crichton percieving the danger surrendered the castle to the king and an uneasy truce was declared."
They had a little light slideshow thing on the wall of the castle with some noises in the background to give slight illustration to the story on the placard.
Other interesting parts of the castle--there was a Dragoon Museum, the chambers where Mary, Queen of Scots gave birth to James VI/James I, depending on whether you're Scottish or English, respectively, and the story of and a display case with the Scottish Crown Jewels, including the Stone of Scone which still comes out for coronations.
There was also a very impressive war memorial. There are war memorials all over the UK; many of the museums have something dedicated to the memory of those from that museum who served, especially in one or both of the World Wars, and I found on my first day a memorial in the Baker Street tube station to the former railway employees who had served. The one at the castle wasn't a plaque, it was a whole building. The outside had been carved with images of the virtues in prominent positions, animals representing the vices, and the inside had badges and flags from many regiments, as well as a regularly updated roll of honor, and the original in a cask on a block of marble, under an image of Michael treading on and slaying a dragon. It felt very solemn and I was glad of the chance to see it.
To be continued.
Legends and Bygone Eras
The day after Chatsworth, we ventured to the border of Scotland, where we found a wall. The original plan was for a wall 10 feet wide and 15 feet high. What's left? Not much. All the same, those Roman architects have my admiration. We were at a fort complex that sat in the middle of Hadrian's Wall, complete with commander's quarters and bath house complex. The reason so little is left is not due to any failing on the Roman's part--ruthless conquerors they may have been, and many other things besides, but they were splendid architects. Rather, the reason so little remained was because people took stone from the wall to make their own walls or houses or barns. Hey, ready-quarried stone. But enough remained to see where the walls had been. Some of the walls still remained, in fact, and you could see in the bath houses where the floor had been elevated a foot or two so the hot water could run underneath to heat the floor tiles and let steam rise up through holes in the floor. There was even a whole room remaining, arched ceiling and all. Of course, it was underground, and fenced off, but the fact that it was still standing two millenia later...yeah, they knew what they were doing. There was also a small museum with some artifacts, carved stones, tools, and so forth found in the general area of the fort. It was a moist and chilly day, but it stopped raining long enough for us to look around for as long as we desired.
In the afternoon, we'd arrived in Edinburgh and we hiked up Arthur's Seat. The trip was awesome, but this part was my favorite. The hike was short but rather steep up to a peak looking directly over Edinburgh. Beautiful view, but the best part was the wind. We're guessing it was in the 70 mph range, but I don't know the exact speed. It was kind of chilly, a bit wet, and positively splendid. I wrote an essay on it, so if you've read the essay, the next segment is an excerpt therefrom.
"I stood on top of that mountain peak fighting for footing and feeling more alive than I have felt in a long time. The wind rushed past me in a primal fury, howling and whistling like a thing possessed. I don't know how to describe the energy I felt; it was exuberant, it felt as though I were being suffused with some fantastic power. It was like swimming against the current in a river of wild joy, permeated to the bone by the sweep. The wind buffeted me, trying by hook or by crook to knock me off my feet and sweep me to the nether ends of the sky, and I pulled my hair down, leaning into the rush, and threw its challenge back in its teeth with a laugh.
And back in the hostel that evening, I discovered that my hair had taken advantage of its freedom and the peculiar circumstances to experiment with new and creative ways of tangling.
So there's that. I think I'll call that good.
Again, questions welcome!
In the afternoon, we'd arrived in Edinburgh and we hiked up Arthur's Seat. The trip was awesome, but this part was my favorite. The hike was short but rather steep up to a peak looking directly over Edinburgh. Beautiful view, but the best part was the wind. We're guessing it was in the 70 mph range, but I don't know the exact speed. It was kind of chilly, a bit wet, and positively splendid. I wrote an essay on it, so if you've read the essay, the next segment is an excerpt therefrom.
"I stood on top of that mountain peak fighting for footing and feeling more alive than I have felt in a long time. The wind rushed past me in a primal fury, howling and whistling like a thing possessed. I don't know how to describe the energy I felt; it was exuberant, it felt as though I were being suffused with some fantastic power. It was like swimming against the current in a river of wild joy, permeated to the bone by the sweep. The wind buffeted me, trying by hook or by crook to knock me off my feet and sweep me to the nether ends of the sky, and I pulled my hair down, leaning into the rush, and threw its challenge back in its teeth with a laugh.
Long before I would have liked, we began to leave the summit, clambering back down to the shelter of the lowlands. I suddenly realized my legs had turned to jelly, all the strength drained from the climb but mostly, I think, from the effort of fighting the wind. It came as a bit of a shock to me. The energy I'd received, however, and the exultant feeling that I had felt did not leave me for a long time. I can feel something of it just by casting my mind back even now."
And back in the hostel that evening, I discovered that my hair had taken advantage of its freedom and the peculiar circumstances to experiment with new and creative ways of tangling.
So there's that. I think I'll call that good.
Again, questions welcome!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Rooting Around in People's Houses
Ha! You thought that was all we did, ride on a coach and sleep in hostels, didn't you! ...You didn't? Oh. Well, anyway, here's the rest of it. Or at least: THE FIRST DAY
In the beginning was the... okay, okay, not that first day.
We were going to go to Fountain Abbey first, but the winds were so strong they shut it down. Completely serious, that's what happened. So we continued to our next destination,Pemberl Chatsworth. Chatsworth is an old estate. Olllllld estate. Everything there feels like age. We came in the back. There was an alley lined with trees and statues, then we went in and found the entryway; there was a very definite path--you go here, then here, then here, but you can't go here before you go here. You know, like that. Every single room...I mean, every room had art and furnishings that, if I were offered the monetary value of half of the room, I'd be bowled over. And that's every room! So, not just old, but fabulously, obtusely wealthy. The *ceilings* were all painted! I think, out of the house, my favorite was the carving of the veiled lady. She shows up in Pride and Prejudice, but a) in the wrong place and b) you don't get to see it clearly enough. Let me put it this way--you can see her face. Under a veil. Made of stone. I don't know how the artist got that kind of skill...but I wouldn't mind being able to do that. So the house--definitely impressive. Several people were talking about how much they would like to be able to live there. I can't say I would. There's way too much. Really, I'd prefer one of the houses we went to later. But that was later, so I'll get to it later.
After that, I went out to the grounds and the gardens. Now there's some nice gardens. Most of it was the manicured, perfectly trimmed space you expect from Victorian or such gardens. Very pleasant. Bushes lining the main walk, with statues in between each, and more statues all over. There were also some statues from a sculpture show that opened a few days after we left, and they weren't quite what you would expect. Multi-colored flowers on stems 10 feet tall and striped, a lion made of jutting pieces of metal made to look like wood, two feet upside down like a giant just did a swan dive into the ground, and some equestrian sculptures of a unicorn and a pegasus, half white and half with exposed musculature. Yep, interesting stuff.
So...nice, clean-cut part of garden, well and good. But I preferred the other side that had more of a wild feel to it. They had a grotto, first off, with a weeping tree. No, really, it was squirting water out of it. Quite beautiful. The rest of it--there was a stream running through, one or two fountains, it felt like a recess in the woods, so it wasn't as open, which I think added a lot to the feel. There were also enormous rocks piled against each other carefully to make a haphazard, natural looking formation. My favorite part there.
They had a farmyard, too, but it was closed. It appears they were selling one of their horses there...maybe I should have picked it up, but then I'd have to keep it in London a few months, not to mention trying to get it home and then finding a place in Provo. Oh, yeah, and the money thing. Yeah, that too...
Also, when we went, I hadn't seen Pride and Prejudice yet--we watched it on the bus the next day. Kind of glad I hadn't seen it earlier, or I think I would have looked at the house and grounds differently.
Oh, yeah...almost forgot! We saw the Royal Helicopter land on the lawn in front as we were leaving. Tony our coach driver said he didn't know who they were, but he ruled out the queen because a) there wasn't nearly enough security (like people standing in front of the coach so he couldn't try to ram the car that went from the helicopter to the house) and b) once they were close enough, it didn't look like her. His guess is some minor lord.
That's that. Please ask questions; I'd love to answer them!
To be belatedly continued.....
In the beginning was the... okay, okay, not that first day.
We were going to go to Fountain Abbey first, but the winds were so strong they shut it down. Completely serious, that's what happened. So we continued to our next destination,
After that, I went out to the grounds and the gardens. Now there's some nice gardens. Most of it was the manicured, perfectly trimmed space you expect from Victorian or such gardens. Very pleasant. Bushes lining the main walk, with statues in between each, and more statues all over. There were also some statues from a sculpture show that opened a few days after we left, and they weren't quite what you would expect. Multi-colored flowers on stems 10 feet tall and striped, a lion made of jutting pieces of metal made to look like wood, two feet upside down like a giant just did a swan dive into the ground, and some equestrian sculptures of a unicorn and a pegasus, half white and half with exposed musculature. Yep, interesting stuff.
So...nice, clean-cut part of garden, well and good. But I preferred the other side that had more of a wild feel to it. They had a grotto, first off, with a weeping tree. No, really, it was squirting water out of it. Quite beautiful. The rest of it--there was a stream running through, one or two fountains, it felt like a recess in the woods, so it wasn't as open, which I think added a lot to the feel. There were also enormous rocks piled against each other carefully to make a haphazard, natural looking formation. My favorite part there.
They had a farmyard, too, but it was closed. It appears they were selling one of their horses there...maybe I should have picked it up, but then I'd have to keep it in London a few months, not to mention trying to get it home and then finding a place in Provo. Oh, yeah, and the money thing. Yeah, that too...
Also, when we went, I hadn't seen Pride and Prejudice yet--we watched it on the bus the next day. Kind of glad I hadn't seen it earlier, or I think I would have looked at the house and grounds differently.
Oh, yeah...almost forgot! We saw the Royal Helicopter land on the lawn in front as we were leaving. Tony our coach driver said he didn't know who they were, but he ruled out the queen because a) there wasn't nearly enough security (like people standing in front of the coach so he couldn't try to ram the car that went from the helicopter to the house) and b) once they were close enough, it didn't look like her. His guess is some minor lord.
That's that. Please ask questions; I'd love to answer them!
To be belatedly continued.....
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The Great Green North
Now this was a great week. I mean, if you reset the scale to make other weeks normal, it was still great.
So. It started on Monday as we ate breakfast, gathered lunch, and went outside to wait for the bus.
We eventually got on. It was a nice bus; A/C, 2 seats a side, footrests, lots of storage, and overhead compartments. Our bus driver was Tony, and he was great. He was nice, he was funny, and he told us a lot about where we were and where we were going. I found out he's been driving coaches (not buses, my bad) for about 23 years, the first 10 in mainland Europe, and is now rather bored of it because he feels like he has nothing keeping him in London and all he gets to do, mostly, is shuttle people to and from the airport. "I'm looking at this as a holiday!"
The bus rides were pretty long, but I slept a lot on them and therefore didn't notice as much. We also watched a few movies. Like Enchanted. Road to El Dorado. And Pride and Prejudice. Tony: "Aww, no, we can't watch this!" Groans and "Come on, put it in"s from the back. "Do you know how many hours I've spent driving BYU students and listening to this?"
Somehow I'm not surprised.
We got to stay at hostels along the way--fun times, fun times. They were actually pretty nice hostels. The first one was set far back in the woods and was pretty small, so our group took up most of it. We had one in Edinburgh for two nights that was also quite nice. It was different, though; different atmosphere. Very much more young-adult-oriented (ish) with games and a bar in the bottom. Or at least the atmosphere was different. We also stayed in one in Ambleside where their bedding theory was condense and conquer, so they had a sleeping bag system for the sheets and a quilt on top. Don't touch the quilt or the pillow (which had a pocket in the sheet bag) and all that needs to be washed is the sheet! We also had a hotel the last day, due to a booking error, and it was waaaay set back in a pasture, far out of sight from the road, but it was awesome because I got my own room and there was a very nice dinner and breakfast included. Speaking of breakfast--I have now had several full English breakfasts, beans and all (minus blood sausage which I didn't see anywhere), and while I think they're generally very filling, I'm still not completely won over to the thought of beans, mushrooms, and tomato with my breakfast. Tried some haggis, too--I didn't like the texture much and the taste wasn't too appealing, either, but I apparently tried it in the wrong place. Eh, at least I tried it, but I probably won't again.
So, yep, that was our trip. Bye now!
So. It started on Monday as we ate breakfast, gathered lunch, and went outside to wait for the bus.
We eventually got on. It was a nice bus; A/C, 2 seats a side, footrests, lots of storage, and overhead compartments. Our bus driver was Tony, and he was great. He was nice, he was funny, and he told us a lot about where we were and where we were going. I found out he's been driving coaches (not buses, my bad) for about 23 years, the first 10 in mainland Europe, and is now rather bored of it because he feels like he has nothing keeping him in London and all he gets to do, mostly, is shuttle people to and from the airport. "I'm looking at this as a holiday!"
The bus rides were pretty long, but I slept a lot on them and therefore didn't notice as much. We also watched a few movies. Like Enchanted. Road to El Dorado. And Pride and Prejudice. Tony: "Aww, no, we can't watch this!" Groans and "Come on, put it in"s from the back. "Do you know how many hours I've spent driving BYU students and listening to this?"
Somehow I'm not surprised.
We got to stay at hostels along the way--fun times, fun times. They were actually pretty nice hostels. The first one was set far back in the woods and was pretty small, so our group took up most of it. We had one in Edinburgh for two nights that was also quite nice. It was different, though; different atmosphere. Very much more young-adult-oriented (ish) with games and a bar in the bottom. Or at least the atmosphere was different. We also stayed in one in Ambleside where their bedding theory was condense and conquer, so they had a sleeping bag system for the sheets and a quilt on top. Don't touch the quilt or the pillow (which had a pocket in the sheet bag) and all that needs to be washed is the sheet! We also had a hotel the last day, due to a booking error, and it was waaaay set back in a pasture, far out of sight from the road, but it was awesome because I got my own room and there was a very nice dinner and breakfast included. Speaking of breakfast--I have now had several full English breakfasts, beans and all (minus blood sausage which I didn't see anywhere), and while I think they're generally very filling, I'm still not completely won over to the thought of beans, mushrooms, and tomato with my breakfast. Tried some haggis, too--I didn't like the texture much and the taste wasn't too appealing, either, but I apparently tried it in the wrong place. Eh, at least I tried it, but I probably won't again.
So, yep, that was our trip. Bye now!
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