Jane Austen Madness

Where else should you study Jane Austen besides Bath and Lyme Regis, the setting of her novel "Persuasion"?

The first view of Bath was breathtaking as we rode in on the bus. The sun reflected golden off the hilly green countryside, divided into crooked squares by hedges and stiles. Bath is nestled deep in a valley between rolling hills, the cathedral and church spires rising up over the rooftops of the town. Our group stayed in the youth hostel outside of town, and to get into town, we had to take a trail that overlooked the whole city and the hills around it. Beautiful.

Bath is the site of a natural hot springs, and the Romans flocked here to swim in the waters and drink the mineral water which supposedly brought good health. In Jane Austen's time, Bath was a place for the rich and famous to see and be seen.

We took a tour of the city itself and saw the same sights Austen saw. The next day was our luxury day. First, we toured the historical Roman baths. Next, we had a lunch in The Pump Room restaurant, which was fancy and served great food. Some of us "took the waters"--i.e. drank the mineral water from the spring. It was warm and metallic--I couldn't finish the whole glass. From there, we moved on to the Thermae Spa and bathed like the Romans did (with modern conveniences of course) in the most amazing rooftop, poolsized hot tub. Watched the sunset over the rooftops of the town. So memorable.

We took the bus toward Lyme Regis, where I got my own room in the luxury Alexandra Hotel. The town is built on the steep hill leading down to the ocean. The weather was windy and wavy. We acted out a scene from "Persuasion" on the cobb, which is a tall stone breakwater around the marina. We only stayed for a few days. Oh, and had breakfast with the drummer from the Rolling Stones. Encounters with fame.

Canterbury to Stratford Upon Avon

We left Saloman's and went to Canterbury. We were fortunate enough to have stayed within the cathedral precincts and have complete access to the Cathedral pretty much whenever we wanted. It was amazing to look out the window and see this ancient Cathedral glowing orange in the light of the moon. People have been coming to Canterbury for over 1500 years to worship God--it is a place of pilgrimage. I did my best to feel the history, imagine the different people walking and riding hundreds of miles to worship at this exact spot. Sometimes, it is hard to really grasp things like that.

We then headed to Oxford to tour the college of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, T.S. Eliot, and Lewis Carroll. The colleges and town were beautiful, and we had a wonderful tour of the city despite the bone chilling cold.

Arriving in Stratford-Upon-Avon, the town of William Shakespeare's birth, I could tell right away that the place goes all out for it's most famous son. Throughout our time there, we walked by the As You Like It Cafe which served "William's Shakes", ate at a cafe termed "The Food of Love", shook our heads at Romeo and Juliet's "adult" shop. While there, we had a packed schedule of events at the Shakespeare Center in town. We got to have several discussions on the play "Twelfth Night" which the Royal Shakespeare Company was putting on at the time. We got to see the show not once, but twice, which was phenominal. Afterward we had a question and answer time with one of the main actors. We took an amusing stage combat class. It was a rewarding week, filled with more amazing theater experiences and the chance to delve into Shakespeare texts.

All these towns had taken on the look of the season and we decked out for Christmas. With a month left before home was on the horizon, for the first time I started looking towards the end of the trip and looking forward to celebrating Christmas at home with family.

Retreat

We moved back out of the city to Salomans, a type of convention/retreat center in the country. We arrived at the “peak” of fall, the trails through the woods covered in crunchy, fallen leaves and the trees orange and yellow. The days were getting shorter, however, and a November chill was in the air. The first thing we did after dumping our luggage in our rooms (with ensuite bathrooms-yay!) was go out barefoot on the green lawn and toss a frisbee around.

We had a lot of class that week and studied Shakespeare’s “Othello” and “Twelfth Night”. One day, our group did a ropes course (on the property at Salomans), complete with helmets and unflattering harnesses. Unfortunately, the day before I had twisted my ankle and therefore assumed my position as photographer for the day, taking millions of unflattering pictures of my friends climbing up poles and hanging from trapezes. I did get to don a harness and do a zip line over the pond (no climbing involved).

Halloween also took place while at Salomans. We dressed up for dinner with what limited resources we had. I became “Emily Wickinson” for the night, my take on the reclusive poet Emily Dickinson. A bed sheet was involved, as well as a penciled in unibrow. We enjoyed dinner and a little party afterward. My first Halloween where I didn’t eat a single piece of candy.

London Take Two

The second time in London was completely different than the first. It felt like coming home. Not only were we reunited with our whole group, we returned to a place for the first time in two months—the Celtic Hotel. After the stress of being on our own in Europe, we were back in a familiar place where there was no language barrier. Deep sigh of relief.

I spent the week walking. The fall weather had not yet turned too cold and all the trees were at their orange and golden state. The crisp feeling in the air and the calm I felt being back in London inspired me to just walk, be outside, observe the city, and rest after free travel.

I walked in the parks, I walked two and from museums instead of taking the Tube, I walked through Trafalgar Square and along the Thames. Sometimes I listened to my iPod and put a soundtrack to the movement the city. Other times I just walked without it and listened to the voices of people talking to their companions or on their cell phones.
There were other things: I visited the National Gallery and the British Library. I also saw Phantom of the Opera at West End—it was phenomenal. I enjoyed time with my friends and roommates. It was good to be back.

Free Travel

Free Travel began in Paris. Me and two other girls stayed in Paris an extra night for a few reasons (long story), and that extra day was quite stressful. We had to move to a new hotel across town, near the train station we’d be taking off from early the next morning. The Lonely Planet guide told us that Hotel Baudin, to which we were heading, had 17 “brightly colored, traditional rooms”. As Nelly said later, “Dear Lonely Planet, Please define traditional.” The rooms were falling apart at the edges and the “shower” was a mini bathtub with a hose. But it worked—a place to rest our heads for the night. I just didn’t look in the sheets before I got in them.

The next morning, we left at 6 am to walk to Gare de Lyon train station to go to Florence. The sidewalks of early morning Paris were eerily empty—we didn’t see a soul as we rolled our suitcases. I guess the drunks had all gone to bed and the shops wouldn’t open for the next few hours. We fumbled through the ticketing process and with the help of a few kind people, managed to make it on the train to Florence. The train ride was beautiful—we cruised smoothly and silently through Southern France, beside blue inland lakes with white sailboats on them, and eventually the Alps rose up on our left, all purple and snowy.

Somehow, all went smoothly as we transferred trains in Milan and got to Florence. We found our hotel and found it much nicer than Hotel Baudin. We had a sunny balcony and tall windows, and it was on a nice quiet road near the train station. That night, our biggest accomplishment was finding a supermercado, getting some dinner, and eating it on our balcony. As we walked to and from, I was surprised that most of the conversations I heard were in English—American English. I knew Florence was a popular tourist destination, but I hadn’t expected the first people I interacted with to be from America.

Nelly, Melissa and I all admitted we needed a day on our own. Nelly went to Rome, Melissa to a Tuscan tour, and I took a slow day getting to know Florence. I walked through the San Lorenzo market, an outdoor mecca for Italian leather jackets, souvenirs, and jewelry. I spent nearly all of my cash on gifts and a dress for myself, and popped back into the hotel to drop it all off. I took off again to see the Duomo—the large cathedral—and wander through the streets and piazzas. It began to rain and even though I had my own umbrella over my head, several men tried to sell me a new one. I had my first Italian gelato standing under a building overhang, soaking wet, but loving it.

The girls all made it back safely, and the next day, we went back to the market so they could do some shopping. We were joined in the early afternoon by our friends Carrie and Erin, who were spending free travel in Rome but came up to Florence for the day. We waited in line at the Uffizi gallery and saw Michelangelo’s David, which was impressive and worth the wait. There wasn’t much else to see in the museum. We wandered around for the rest of the day, enjoying the sun, taking pictures, spending time by the river and watching the sun go down.

The next day we hiked up the Piazzale Michelangelo, an overlook of the city of Florence, and the hilly countryside around it. It was a beautiful day and all of us were captured by the beauty of where we were. We had a random run-in with someone from Bethel, not on our trip. Our other prerogative for the day was to figure out how to get back to London at the end of free travel, and while striding through the train station to figure out our tickets, we had another random run-in with people from our England Term group. You would think we hadn’t seen each other in years, the way we were carrying on and hugging in the busy station. We ended up spending the night hanging out with them and the other people from Bethel we happened to run into. Crazy, small world.

The next morning, we left Florence and boarded the train to Nice, with heavier suitcases due to the many purchases made there. The train ride was again beautiful, this time because the tracks ran parallel to the Mediterranean Sea. It was gorgeous. Nice was sunny and warm upon our arrival, ritzy and resort-like. We were unsure about how our hotel would turn out, since it was about the same price as Hotel Baudin. Hotel Wilson turned out to be a pleasant surprise and a wonderful home for the next 5 nights. Run by a casual, chilled out surfer-ish man, covered with plants and smelling of incense and smoke, it was a comfortable very casual atmosphere compared to the last few places. He also had a pet turtle. That night we ventured down to the Promenade, a path along the shore where the ritzy hotels and casinos are, along with the beaches. The sunset was pink and blue, and the sea warm.

The next day we went to the beach. Katy came from Paris, where she’d been with her family, and joined us.
The day after that we went to the beach.
The day after that we went to the beach.
The next day, we went for a walk in the old town, did some shopping, and then went to the beach.
It was just the thing I needed—relaxation, warmth, sun.

Getting back to London proved to be a little more of a challenge than expected. Katy and I had planned to take the trains up to Paris, then take the Chunnel under the English Channel up to London. It was going to be a long day, but we were ready. But then there was a little thing called a Railroad Worker Strike. Meaning that little to no trains were running that day. Just that day. October 20, the day we needed them. Despite much help from the patient workers at the train station, all our train options were iffy, and we didn’t want to spend any more time in France than we had too. So we bit the bullet, dropped more money than we had to get plane tickets from Nice to London with the other girls. Needless to say, we were stressed. But we made it on the right plane with time to spare, and within three hours we were in London Heathrow airport, relieved and drained, but back in a familiar place and reunited with our England Term people back at the Celtic hotel.

On and Off the Train: A Panic Attack Waiting to Happen

Train travel itself isn’t bad. Taking the train from Paris to Florence was absolutely beautiful—cruising by small French towns beside deep blue lakes and autumnal mountains. The transitions are what cause enough stress to ruin your day and leave you completely exhausted by the end of it.

Because not only am I dragging myself onto the train, but myself and a huge backpack, which with the combined weight of my computer, large camera, books, journals, and whatever else won’t fit into my suitcase, adds about two feet of length to my body when I wear it on my back. Not only that, but I have my 50+ pounds suitcase to maneuver over the large gap between the platform and the train itself and then up the awkward stairs. We quickly learned that the best way to get over this hurdle was to toss our suitcases into the train ahead of us, then follow them up. Next, I had to fit myself down the thin aisles, backing up and dragging my suitcase sideways to find my seat, apologizing profusely to the innocent people I inevitably hit in the face with my backpack. Once I found my seat, I had to figure out a place to fit my suitcase—overhead compartment where I can keep an eye on it but where it may fall and kill someone, or in a storage place at the end of the car where it could be stolen? On the first train ride, we debated, while standing in all of the impatient French people’s way. A random Asian man appeared suddenly, and helped us hoist our impossibly heavy suitcases up into the overhead compartment. He then disappeared, out of our car, and we never saw him again. Train angel? Maybe.

Getting off the train is a whole other animal. First, we had to try and understand the voice on the overhead speakers, as it spoke in four different languages telling us which stop we were at. However, the voice happened to get quiet right when it mentioned the station, so we could hear, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be arriving at Genova Station in 5 minutes”, and just had to peer intently out the window to see the signs. Once we knew we were at our stop, the scrambling began again—get all pieces of oversized luggage to the door of the train without clocking anyone or getting in their way. Finally, I had to tackle the stairs again, learning quickly that to fit oneself, ones multiple handbags/backpacks, and ones suitcases out of the train door and down the steps all at once is disastrous and results in getting stuck. By the end of the day, I had it figured. Leaving the suitcase on the train right by the door, I move myself out of the train, down the steps, safely over the gap and onto the platform. Then reach back and hoist the dang thing to safety behind me.

Welcome to France?

We flew into Paris, then drove right back out of it to go to Bayeux, from which to take a tour of the beaches at Normandy. France greeted us with clouds and rain, dusty old cathedrals and a language barrier for the first time on the trip. Going up to order a sandwich for dinner, I’d forgotten that I had no idea how to say “I’ll take one of those” or “Can I have a water with that, please”?

Another thing that welcomed us to France was two of our group members having their passports and credit cards stolen from their hotel rooms in Bayeux. Not only did it create a lot of hassle—dealings with embassies and French police—but it made me feel unsafe and unsettled in this new country.

Touring the beaches at Normandy and the American cemetery there was a moving experience. It rained that day, fitting weather for reflecting on the battles of D-Day and the many men that died there. I learned that the Americans and British landed on those beaches expecting to lose more than half their men—but went in anyway. It’s that kind of bravery that blows my mind—I wonder if I have anything like that inside me, and what kind of people do.

That night, we had a banquet at a restaurant in Bayeux, a birthday celebration for one of the girls and also a kind of closing to the first half of the semester with Dr. Ritchie. We all said nice things about him and his wife and snapped photos with each other, and I felt the community that this group has developed over the past two months. It was hard to say goodbye to him as he was such an integral part of this trip for me.

From Bayeux, it was on to Paris. My first vision of the Eiffel Tower was on the bus as we drove along the Seine, and the sun shone through the clouds in rays. I didn’t think Paris would hold much sway over me, but that first sight of the Eiffel Tower stirred up the feeling of excitement and romance of a new, historical city.

The time in Paris was spent writing a paper, eating at sidewalk cafes, touring the Lourve (the Mona Lisa and many others), taking a bus tour, and stressing out about planning free travel. The last day in Paris, we were on our own, and literally spent the whole day dragging our luggage across the city on the Metro, staying in a crappy hotel, and running around figuring out our train tickets for the next day. Though the city had it’s allure, I was so relieved to sink into my seat on the train to Florence and say goodbye.