Day Trip-Upon-Avon

On the Ides of May we boarded yet another University day trip bus to travel the two and a half hours to Stratford-Upon-Avon, birthplace of William Shakespeare, home of the Royal Shakespeare Company, and location of shameless crepe restaurant: The Food of Love. After pulling off the dual carriageway, the bus took us through some beautiful countryside as we were fortunate to have a fantastic, sunny day with temperatures actually in the 70s. After parking at a leisure center and finding our way towards town, passing another shameless business, a toy store called Much Ado About Toys, we came to the canal whose bank featured statues of famous Shakespearian characters, such as Lady Macbeth and Hamlet (deep in thought.) The actual village was quite small and easy to cover by foot. The many little shops featured an apparently well known Teddy Bear shop (creepy), as well as a book store where guess-who was featured prominently in the local author section.

 

 

 

 

 

With only a day to soak up as much Shakespeare as possible, we headed first to the Bard’s grave, located inside Holy Trinity Church which resided picturesquely on the banks of the River Avon. After playing a bit in the gardens, which held an Alice-in-Wonderland-type ambiance, we found ourselves inside the old church, the oldest surviving building in Stratford dating from 1210. A sign quickly points the way to Shakespeare’s grave, which is free for students to visit. It’s always a touch macabre and odd visiting a grave, and even stranger to photograph it. While in the past such feelings have kept me from snapping pictures of specific graves , tombs (read: Pope John Paul, II), or even caskets, I had no shame when it came to Shakespeare.

Soon after departing Holy Trinity, and a short stroll down the Avon, we discovered the last chain ferry in Britain. At 50p a ride, it was a bargain, but we had other destinations in mind, namely old Willy S’s birthplace. Shakespeare’s House and Gardens is a well kept historic home, complete with period furnishings and exhibitions not only telling of Shakespeare's early years, but also the story of the house as an early public history icon. At one point, with the birthplace being inhabited by new tenants, another museum opened across the street with the original furnishings and artifacts, becoming the birthplace’s rival once it opened to the public.

The museum’s orientation is experiential, featuring multiple rooms displaying images and sound taking the visitor through Shakespeare's life, all ending with a montage of Shakespeare’s legacies including many of the words he added to the English language (including dawn, elbow, and of course gossip.) Once through the house and exhibitions, visitors exit to the gardens where costumed actors recite sonnets (calling out for numbers between 1 and 154) and bits of plays. This was by far the coolest part of the day.

After delicious crepes at Food of Love (I never said I was above the shame of it,) we ventured down the picturesque Avon and rented a rowing boat. I then lived out the dream of many a young woman when Kevin graciously rowed me around the river. It could not have been more beautiful. The sun was shining, the trees were drooping into the river, and fantastic homes lined the water’s edge. We viewed both the Royal Shakespeare Company and Holy Trinity Church from the water, before making a shaky swap with me taking over the oars and Kevin taking his turn to bask in the sunlight.

We visited two more Shakespearian properties before calling it a day. First Nash’s House and New Place, two homes made into one and also where Shakespeare died. In the gardens was an ongoing archaeological dig while indoors featured a public archaeology exhibition, explaining not only what archaeology is but how it’s gone about at the property. After a quick peek we visited Hall’s Croft, Shakespeare's daughter’s house. It was a much larger home and decorated in the 17th century interpreting a doctor’s home (Shakespeare’s son-in-law’s profession.)  What I loved the most was the yard and small gardens. We shamelessly posed for many photos.

All the gardens we’d visited on this day had a very down-the-rabbit-hole, Alice-in-Wonderland feeling (although completely the wrong feeling for the time period, shouldn’t we have been experiencing an Elizabethan-style romance?)

 

 

 

 

You should be able to view all our photos from the day here.

So, Long Time…No Blog…

Not only did we not continue to update our theses progress (or, in my case, not even start), but we seem to have just deserted you, forcing you to actually read productively, catch up on current events, and possibly even flip through an actual book.  I’d like to say we had good reason to completely abandon this project, but that would only be partially true. Partial because we really only had about two or three months of good reasons to be away, not four. My bad.

What was so pressing as to take us away those first few months? Well just the completion of two theses, another move across the Atlantic, many welcome-home-type events, this little wedding thing, a honeymoon, more packing and more moving which all resulted in an eventual squatting phase, where I continue to find myself to this day. Again, or partially squatting as Kevin is actually contributing to society through a nine to five. Those of us not particularly contributing in the same way, which of course includes Clovis the cat, languish at the Lake House surrounded by the beauty of nature and an increasing itch to fulfill something, or accomplish something, or make something of something, ect.

One way to accomplish such goals, if only in the short term, include firing this puppy back up and rounding out our time in England. So, it was 2010, it was summer. Hit with limited funds and the annoying obligation to complete a thesis, our traveling took a heavy hit. Well, a hit in my book, meaning that we did not “get off the rock” (my expression for leaving Great Britain) and instead soaked up as much cold and grey summer as we could in the good old GB before moving back to America. Actually, playing around in some of England’s best destinations was no joke and a fantastic excuse to clock some more train hours before returning to the land of awful public transportation. And after a year living in England, that’s really saying something.

But I digress, let’s focus our attention on what I call the lost summer. Lost because it was not actually summer but some early Spring/late Autumn monstrosity, complete with the need to wear warm gloves in August in order to fetch milk down the street. In our current cold spell my desire to find some hole in the ozone somewhere while burning my toes in the sand has only increased. During the lost summer we traveled to Stratford-Upon-Avon, Durham, Heathersage, London, Oxford, Bath, and Brighton. Kevin also went on a testosterone-fest-weekend to Whitby. We experienced the World Cup, England-style, discovered new parks in and around our neighborhood of Crookes, and took a final train ride to Coinsbrough Castle to visit Kevin’s thesis site. We wavered between being tired of England and being nostalgic. Missing home but not wanting to leave the new home we had made. Personally I miss the crazy, drunk man who sang sweet songs, I liked to think just to me, across the street from my window, next to the bus stop.

I’ll work to fill the gaps in our travelogue, sift through my thoughts and feeling towards our time abroad, and deal a bit with my reverse culture shock (seriously America, what is Bridalplasty?! And I’m OK I that I STILL have no idea who Justin Bieber is.) But bear with me, I’m a bit rusty.