So this past weekend, our group did what is called ‘The Castles Trip.’ It’s kind of a strange name, considering there are only two castles we see on the trip ( I say ‘only’ as if that’s a bad thing… I mean, how many castles do you see in America? We’re lucky to be seeing ANY castles!) but the trip was pretty fantastic anyway. It started out, as many of our trips do, very early in the morning. I was pretty dazed, so I don’t remember too much of the bus ride to our first stop, which was Coventry Cathedral. There was some confusion about our tour, which actually gave us time to wander the ruins a bit and even head downtown for some coffee and crepes. The ruins were really cool, still standing from the bombings during WWII. We were lucky it was such a gorgeous day, too. My favorite part of the ruins themselves was the words ‘Father Forgive’ inscribed on the wall behind where the altar used to be. The story goes that the minister or pastor or whatever walked into the ruins after the bombings, found two wooden crossbeams from the roof fallen in the shape of a cross, bound them together, and ordered the words carved into the wall. He didn’t want to say ‘Father forgive them,’ meaning the Germans, because he saw all humanity as fallen, not just the Germans bombing them. It seems pretty incredible to have that kind of compassion for people while standing in the ruins of your cathedral. The new cathedral, built next to the ruins, was absolutely beautiful as well. It was certainly much more modern, and it actually reminded me a lot of the Chapel of the Resurrection back in Valpo.

Next we headed toward Warwick Castle (the second ‘w’ is not pronounced, so it sounds like ‘warrick’). The castle itself was kind of contained, and we weren’t allowed in to all the exhibits with just our regular pass. We did get to go down a small passageway to the ‘gaol’ and through a recreation of one of the Warwick lords trying to become king. I think he managed it, actually. I was mostly disappointed that I didn’t get to go into the BBC Merlin exhibit, because that looked really cool. But that was all okay, because the grounds totally made up for it all. There were these elaborate gardens and a cool river with an old, picturesque boathouse and peacocks wandering around pretty much everywhere. We also got to see a ‘birds of prey’ show, featuring a hawk and a vulture. That was pretty cool, but a bit nerve-wracking when the hawk caught sight of a cat wandering through the show and paused, seemingly contemplating whether going after it was a good idea or not. Thankfully, he left the cat alone and all animals exited the arena safely.

After castle #1, we hopped on the bus and had a short journey to Stratford-upon-Avon, which any self-respecting English major would recognize instantly as the birthplace of William Shakespeare. This was basically the coolest thing ever. I know I say that about pretty much every place we go, but in the moments that I’m in each place, it’s true. This place was cool because we got to tour Shakepeare’s childhood home and walk on stones that he probably walked on 450+ years ago and Kristine, Rachel and I may or may not have been completely freaking out at that point. I mean, we got to see the first folio, and Shakespeare’s signet ring, and the house he lived in. It was pretty freaking amazing. That night, we went to see the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Antony and Cleopatra, and we were completely blown away. This performance was fantastic. The casting was flawless, the acting was superb, the set was stunning and the vocals were unbelievable. I mean, really, this was a truly incredible performance. Not that we should expect anything less of a Shakespeare play in Shakespeare’s hometown, but hey. You gotta appreciate excellence when it’s right in front of you. The walk back to the hostel that night was a bit long and a tad scary, but it was totally worth it because that hostel was the bomb. I definitely slept well that night.

The next morning, we took the bus to Bath. Those of us still on an English kick were instantly reminded of Chaucer’s Wife of Bath, but we did not see any references to her in the actual city, unfortunately. What we did see were the wonderfully excavated and preserved Roman Baths, built there over 1500 years ago using the hot spring water, rich with minerals, that flowed from the land. The process of going to a bathhouse was actually much more complex than I had previously imagined, involving saunas and oil massages and the scraping off of dead skin and dirt, all before even stepping foot in any sort of water. But the baths were amazing, considering how far north they are, and how large the complex is. Many people suspect that there are many more intact Roman ruins underneath the rest of the city of Bath, but understandably, no one wants to go looking for them at the cost of huge swaths of the city. After the baths, we checked out the Abbey, the Circus, and the Royal Crescent, some of the cool architectural aspects of the city. That night, at the YMCA hostel we were staying in, a few of us played charades that got progressively more difficult and ridiculous as the night continued. Oh, and I also got a ‘Mississippi Mud Pie’ McFlurry from the McDonald’s… I thought that was ironic.

The next day we went to Stonehenge. The morning was perfect, a bit damp and misty, which added the perfect eerie ambiance to the ancient stone circle. It was crowded but not overly so. We also got those free audio-guides, so we could be told over and over again all about how no one really knows what Stonehenge was for, or how the built it, or why it faces a certain direction, or what it means. It’s a very mysterious place, and I could certainly feel the power of that mystery while walking around it. I’ve heard that some people are disappointed in it, that it’s smaller than they expected or something. I didn’t feel that at all, just for the record. It may have been a tad smaller than portrayed in pictures, but the sheer force behind something that ancient and rustic was enough to make it huge in my perception. Plus, when you think about it, a third of each stone is actually under the ground, so it’s at least 33% bigger than what we can see. It was pretty amazing, and I loved it. The problem with Stonehenge, for me, was that my camera ran out of battery, so those are the last pictures I have of the trip. Thankfully, we only had one more stop before heading back to Cambridge.

Our last place, and castle #2 of The Castles Trip, was Windsor Castle. It is one of the largest British palaces still used as a residence by the royal family. We were all rather offended by the fact that the queen didn’t greet us herself, but well, she must have been busy ( I don’t know, running a country or something. Whatever.). But the castle was really very cool to walk around in. We couldn’t go inside the castle’s chapel, because it was Sunday, but we did get to tour the State Apartments and Queen Mary’s Dollhouse. Both of these things were extremely lavish and exquisitely decorated, and even if my camera had been full of battery life I would not have been allowed to take pictures. I wish I had the room to explain every room we went through that I can remember, but there were at least 20 rooms and I don’t think anyone wants to read the minute details of each and every one. Personal favorites, however, included St. George’s Hall, which was covered in the personal shields of each Knight in the Order of the Garter, and the octagonal room that houses a much of the gold-plated dinnerware and King Henry VIII’s suit of armor.

Basically, this trip was the most quintessentially English whirlwind I’ve been on to date, and I loved every second of it. I feel like, at this point, I have truly seen what England is proud of. I got churches, castles, Shakespeare, and Stonehenge-what more could a girl ask for?

With happiness, awe, and much love,

Bryn

Okay, wow, I was definitely supposed to write this blog like, a week ago… but honestly? I’ve been enjoying a lazy week. That being said, I’ve gotta get my butt in gear, both on this blog and with my schoolwork in general. So, here we go–the story of my trip to Edinburgh. It began on Thursday, when I went over to Anglia Ruskin to sign in with the exchange program people (we’re supposed to do this every week, so I had to do it before I left for the weekend). So I walked over to Anglia two hours before my train was supposed to leave. That might seem like overkill on the time thing, but I have this chronic need to be early, like, all the time, and this turned out to be a really fantastic idea on my part. You see, I know how to get to the train station from our house, but I wasn’t quite sure how to get there from the university. I remembered Matt telling me that if you walked down Mill Road, you’d hit the train station, so I kinda took a chance and rambled down Mill Road. I was getting worried, because I’d been walking for a while and hadn’t found the station road yet… and then I hit the bridge. Cool bridge, it’s been painted with bright colors. I originally thought this bridge was over the Cam, because that’s what most bridges are for here. This one was over the train tracks, however, and I wasn’t sure where the station was. I took a chance and went left… this was not the right direction. I ended up following the tracks for, I don’t know, twenty minutes or so, in the wrong direction. By the time I decided to turn around, it was 3:20 and my train was supposed to leave at 4. So I had to turn around and retrace my steps, back to the bridge, and follow the tracks in the opposite direction. Luckily, the station was only about five minutes in that direction, so I arrived in time to catch the train from Cambridge to Peterborough. I then caught a train from Peterborough to Edinburgh Waverly–this was a 4 hour ride. Fortunately, I met a really cool lady from York who was going back home after dropping her mother off in Cambridge. About half way to Edinburgh, a university student named Oliver sat by us and we had a wonderful conversation on the way up to Waverly. It certainly made the time pass quickly, and I got to Edinburgh by 9:30pm. I made my way to my hostel fairly easily, although I did notice immediately that the city had many more hills than Cambridge does. I went to sleep, exhausted from travelling (although I wonder why that happens… I literally sat on a train for five hours, how is this exhausting?) and planned to wake up fairly early for my first full day in Scotland.

I woke up around 8:30 (voluntarily. Weird, right?) and looked out the window. The first thing I saw, besides the gray, cloudy sky, was the medieval-looking cityscape that rose up from the cobblestone streets as naturally as trees from grass. Despite the fact that it looked like it was about to downpour any second, I was excited to get out there and experience Scotland. So I got dressed (warmly, including a sweatshirt, scarf, and gloves) and headed out. I first wanted to get a feel for the city, so I walked down the street to Princes Street Park. Not gonna lie, walking through the park was amazing on its own. Something about the air, about the atmosphere, about the way the entire area looked–it was almost mystical. That also could have been the mist and the clouds. Walking through the park led me to the Scottish National Gallery. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t open until 10am, and it wasn’t even 9, so I decided to walk down Princes Street toward Calton Hill.

On my way to Calton Hill, I was sidetracked by a cemetery. Now, I know this is kinda weird, but I seriously love cemeteries, especially old ones. There’s something peaceful and beautiful about them, something old and intangible that we, as living people, can only graze the surface of. There’s an atmosphere, an ambiance, that could be creepy but somehow just manages to stay this side of tranquil. It was also really cool that I stumbled upon David Hume’s tomb in that particular cemetery. As I went across the street to Calton Hill, I figured out why. Calton Hill, as a public park, was a brainchild of Hume, and there is now a path dubbed ‘Hume’s Walk’ within the park. It’s quite a lovely walk, if I do say so myself. While I was walking up the path, it did finally start to rain. It didn’t really matter, because I don’t really mind the rain as long as it’s not too cold, and it was mostly just windy on top of the hill. I also found a really cool monument, set up to look like Greek pillars, to commemorate Scottish soldiers and sailors from the Napoleonic Wars. I found this specific monument so impressive because it could be seen from most places in the city, plus there’s always something awesome about Greek pillars. The hill also had a great view of Arthur’s Seat, which was where I headed next.

I walked down the hill and across the North Bridge, coincidentally not over a river, but over the train tracks. I found the High Street, and walked down it toward Holyrood Palace. On the way, I stopped in quite a few shops that generally specialized in tartan cloth and information on the Scottish clans. There was one shop that I walked into, run by Scottish clan members, that sold real Scottish broadswords and attempted to get me to buy one. I seriously considered getting one for my brother but… well… somehow I think that might end up poorly for most people involved. I was, however, on the lookout for Buchanan tartan cloth. I didn’t find any I liked in that particular store, however, so I continued on to the palace.

The palace was gorgeous from the outside, but I didn’t get in. It cost 11 pounds, and I was trying to see how cheap I could be on a weekend trip (I kept myself to 40 pounds, woohoo!), so I didn’t go inside. I did walk around the outside park and take a few pictures before heading over to Holyrood Park, where Arthur’s Seat was. I then climbed up to a crumbling abbey wall first. It had a great view of both the palace and a small pond. I then started up the steeper part, all the while thanking my family for their hiking tendencies, because that was the only way I made it up that mountain. About halfway up, on a sort of resting point, I stopped to take in the view and it began raining a bit more earnestly, as well as getting windier and windier. I was feeling very dramatic, especially because Merida, the newest Disney princess, is Scottish and redheaded. When I got to the top, I even took a few pictures of myself being ‘Brave-like’ from the movie.

Getting down from Arthur’s Seat was actually much more difficult than getting up. This was mostly my

I was impressed with myself.

own fault, however, because I probably took the absolute worst path back down the mountain possible. After I managed each small, steep, rocky, slippery part, I turned around and took a picture of what I’d just attempted and successfully gotten down, mostly because I was impressed with myself for not dying. I did find, however, many very cool paths that looked incredibly not-well-traveled and secret, thistle patches that wound up and around the dirt paths not quite trodden to the mud due to a lack of foot traffic, and slick rocks worn smooth not by footfalls, but by rainfalls. It was a very long hike, however, and instead of climbing the crags, I chose to walk along the bottom of the crags. I didn’t realize it at the time of this decision, but this might not have been the smartest thing. About halfway down the trail, I noticed all of the signs saying ‘Beware! Falling rocks!’ and it even got to the point where the path was blocked by metal gates around what looked like recent rock slides. I did make it out of my extended hike alive, though, so that’s good.

I was getting pretty exhausted at this point, but I walked back up Cowgate and stumbled upon the Museum. When I walked into the big gallery, footsore and tired, I nearly started crying because the place looked so beautiful. It just so happened that the moment I stepped inside, after climbing a freaking mountain in the rain, that the sun made a glorious appearance. It shone through the ceiling of windows and into the white room like a promise from heaven. There was a lighthouse glass, and a Buddhist shrine, and the largest scrimshaw ever made, and the skull of some large, long-forgotten monster of the sea. It was a gorgeous museum, and I wandered around in a bit of a daze, trying desperately to focus on the myriad of amazing things in front of me instead of the rapidly forming blisters on my toes. I got my chance after I wandered outside the museum and over to the National Scottish Library, to have a quick look and to sit down for lunch. I milked that chance to sit for as long as I could, before crossing the street to Greyfriar’s Kirk. Here, I reaffirmed my love of cemeteries by seeing one in the gorgeous October sunshine, with the changing of the leaves and the swaying of the trees.

Despite my feet, I was immersed in the magic of Old Town, and so decided to head up the hill toward the Castle. I didn’t go inside again, because I didn’t want to spend the money, but  I did get a fabulous view of both old and new areas of Edinburgh and I found a tartan cloth mill museum right next to the Castle itself. It was there where I finally found a type of Buchanan tartan that I liked, and I bought a tammy hat as my souvenir from Scotland. After exploring the mill, I ventured down High Street and made my way to St. Giles Cathedral. This was, predictably, gorgeous and I managed to get a few pictures of the inside. I also took the opportunity to sit for a while and just admire, instead of running around trying to see as much as possible. It was very nice to relax and look around without the pressure of exploring. After I felt suitably rested from the cathedral, I headed back to the hostel to recover from my day, which pretty much had consisted of seven straight hours of walking.

Then next day, my legs and feet were still very unhappy with me. Despite that, I walked to the cafe next door, grabbed a french baguette, and went to eat on the Castle’s terrace overlooking the city. After that, I walked through the park and found a cool fountain, with a gorgeous view of the Castle’s walls. When it had passed 10am, I went through the National Gallery, and I was shocked at how much it reminded me of the Fitzwilliam Museum here in Cambridge. There were big red rooms and huge landscape paintings, sculptures and fancy chairs and Poussin scenes. The entire downstairs section was devoted to Scottish artists, and that was very cool to see. After seeing that, I wandered around the city a bit more, happening upon St. Mary’s Cathedral as well. But after only about 4 hours out, my legs were screaming at me, so I went back to the hostel and hung out in the common room.

This was also a very fun afternoon, despite the fact that it wasn’t all outdoors. I met a bunch of Spanish people, a few Australians, and an Italian who played guitar for us. We watched a Doctor Who marathon for a bit, talked a lot, and laughed a lot. It was a really great afternoon, and even though I didn’t see much of the city that day, I figured I had seen quite a bit the day before. My feet were much happier with me that day than the day previous, and I went to bed happy that night too. I woke up, forgot it was daylight savings over here that Sunday, and got to the train station an hour before my train was supposed to leave. I had a wonderful time in Edinburgh, but I was definitely excited to get home.

So there you have it–my Scottish adventure. It was wonderful, and I can’t wait to get back up there!

With happiness, Scottish-ness, and love,

Bryn