Bath - First Discoveries

I washed my face, changed my top, tied my bad back up and prayed that it would hold (was quite impressed with my ingenuity and momentarily considered becoming an inventor – my bag light concept is still on hold til I can raise enough money to get it pattoned, but when I’ll do I’ll be rich and be able to take Paris Hilton by the hand and have a chat about her behaviour… potentially send her to boarding school for discipline… people like that have no business being rich), putting my shoes back on I grabbed my map and made my way back out of my room. Locking the door with the little red key and taking in my surroundings once more, I stepped onto the delightfully quiet street. I took a moment. There were no sirens, no bustling people, the sun was shinning and it was as if I’d been in the dark for weeks… Bath is so open, spacious and perfectly white. They use Bath Stone for the buildings, specially made, it was also used for Buckingham Palace… It gives your heart a little lap of delight knowing that they make so much effort to keep Bath the way Bath was. It’s one of the only remaining UK towns on the History List for being as it was in the 1700 and 1800s… I could imagine myself dressed in a long flowing gown making my way to the great hall for the grand dance during the summer, could hear horses on the cobbled streets, all the time feeling the warmth of the sun on my back and thinking how lucky I was to be here, and proud, to be here alone.

My intention had to be to make my way into town, but instead I went in the opposite direction taking a whim of spontanaeity. Sometimes the feeling to walk left, rather than right can lead you to the most wonderful of places – maybe there is something more to us humans, that instinct that can lead to unexpected experiences, sometimes good and sometimes bad. In this case, it was perfectly perfect and I think the sun was not only shining down on me, but smiling as well. The afternoon was creeping in, but the house seemed slower here than in London. I wandered up a street only to discover I had come across the most picturesque… and enormous… park. It is named after Queen Victoria, given to her in honour of one of her birthdays before she had become Queen, and so is called “Princess Victoria Gardens”.

I wandered up ‘Royal Avenue’, suddenly wondering whether I was actually allowed to be here, it all seemed so grand. The flower beds running up along the road, thick granite walls with inscriptions dedicated to the fallen fathers of the World Wars, red poppies swaying in the wind around them. To my left the park swept down to a landscaped section with a pond, a fountain, trees in sets of three and little walk ways lined by rock beds with water running over them. The sun was whispering through the trees and birds danced in and out and up above. To my left the grounds stretched out with all the magnificent colours o autumn, those greens and browns, oranges and reds, crunchy in their cold leaf like manner. Simple as the site was, as reknowned and normal, it still forced me to stop and take a moment to appreciate the complexity of simplicity and perfection of a natural scene. I think I quite like forests better than landscaped gardens… but, I’m sure when I get to Leeds Castle I may change my mind by the sounds of things. The light seemed blue as it swung through the trees. I stepped in through branches to look at a small semi-circle stage, imagining that they would have musical concerts here during the summer months. There was a sculpture of a vase hidden in the bushes near the stage, snakes creeping up at its edges and what looked like Roman’s dancing around with grapes in their hands – obviously a tribute who are thought to be the founders of Bath, and ofcourse the Roman Spa’s. Apparently, though, the natural hot springs that exist in Bath were first discovered by the Celts, who, like the Romans, thought had Healing Powers (some people still spend exorbitant amounts of money to bathe in the waters today as well… I was not one of those people sadly… not til I get the Bag Light sorted at any rate, and then we might even see if it improves Paris Hilton?).

Carrying on along the road, before even broaching the main part of this almost-never-ending park, I came across an extravagantly sized semi-circular three storey building, completely pristine in condition. I’m not sure as to what this was, but by
the looks of things it had some governmentary purpose. I considered knocking on the door with my CV… what a place to work!

I finally reached another set of large steel gold tipped gates with Lioness’s overlooking the entryway which indicated the entry to the main park area. It was all so grand, so regal… It’s a strange thing about Bath, you miss what you’ve never known, I feel nostalgic about the 18th Century… maybe its something to do with communal memory that I’d read about all those years ago… that the memories of your ancestors were transferred down through generations which would explain the emotions we feel when we walk into the house of our grandparents, or to a larger extent, feel the pull of our ‘homeland’ so to speak… It is nice being able to put theory to practise, everything I read at university seems to be making so much sense, especially those courses on philosophy, culture, anthropology and globalisation. When imaginings become memory and transcend logic.

My head to the sky, I proudly walked through the grand gates, looking around and seeing no one was there, I swept from side to side, holding my imaginary skirt in my hand and bowing to the gentleman who stood by to greet me and take my cloak, I was offered a small glass of Pinot Noir before accepting the arm of my beloved (my beloved who I’d not confessed my feelings to but was hoping that through consultation with my brother, would hopefully ascertain whether my feelings were reciprocated!)… obviously I’ve read far too many Bronte and Austen books, but it was certainly fun – you can get yourself lost sometimes.

As I made my way through the gates there was the most quaint little house to my right, a great weeping willow shadowing it from the sun (and potentially the prying eye). With green awnings, brown slated room and three triangle peeks it seemed like Little Red Riding’s Grandmama’s home… It was just so quaint. I wanted to walk up and take a closer peek – very Goldie Locks of me – but there was a car out the front and I imagined that it wasn’t there for show. Turning back around I found an enormous pillar pointing to the sky, surrounded by a circular stone gate and lions facing East, West, North and South, with a main sculpture above the base of the pillar of Queen Victoria – the later years. Another tribute to the name giver of this delightful space.

I was incredibly snap happy as I made my way through the fields, in between trees, over stumps and crunching leaves, watching birds flitter and squirrels scurry. The sun seemed to be staying out jut for me, I nodded to a couple walking past me, and ‘Goodday’ to a mother, husband and their brood walking along the tree lined path. I felt at peace in this place and had a sense of never ever wanting to leave. Of setting up a little cottage and living off garden vegetables… it just seemed perfect. On the hill in the distance you could spot the most magnicifcent mansion – I found out later that many period films had been filmed there and it was now a very well-to-do Bed and Breakfast… maybe something I would save to go to at a later date… treat myself to some Bath-like Luxury… I wondered if they had theme weekends when you could actually dress up like a 1800s lady and wander about speaking with oh-so-appropriate manners… oh marvellous would that be?!

In the corner of my eye I spotted what appeared to be a small closed off area with a pond. Heading in this direction my mother suddenly appeared in my mind… Mum, I thought, I have found the Secret Garden. Years ago in Wynarling the back yard had grown over… and not in the normal sense of the word – it honestly looked like the beginning of the film, ‘the Secret Garden’, there were no flowers… you would have to dig for days to find earth… the garden had always been difficult to manage, but with thistles and weeds and branches with spikes and prickles… it was like a beast. Mum worked the whole day in the blaring sun (with some assistance from myself, though I think I was more a beverage runner than anything), until she had cleared all of the weeds. I remember the photo of her, sweat on her brow, pitch fork in her hand, smiling tiredly that she had finally conquered what was almost the Dragon of Wynarling… I was suddenly back there and so wanted her to be here to see this. She would love this… It was the garden she had always wanted (something that was not on top of a rock with hard soil that grew nothing but thistles and poisonous melons and horrible double gee-s).

What I thought was gated, was not… luckily. My first image – that I all but could take a photo to capture the breathtaking perfection of the image – was that of a lightly rippling pond through weeping willows (my favourite tree, along with Boabs… I doubt there are many Boabs in England though…) a park bench overlooking the scene. It drew you to it, peace suddenly swept over me, it was a lovers corner, a place for romance or writing, for quietitude and meditation. I wish I could describe more aptly how majestically the greens, browns and oranges swept into one another, the sense of feeling as if you were in a painting.

I walked toward it coming across a small tricking waterfall, listening to the flowing water as it made its way into the lake, looking up the sky had turned to leaves and branches, as if nature was embracing you. Walking along the solace tree lined path, with the sunlight slipping along the cobbles, desperately trying to move through the leaves, I came out to see the lake in all its glory. Three different types of ducks floated along the water, dipping and ducking and coming up again, sea gulls swooping and robbins tattering toward the waters edge. Yellow leaves curtained across the way, and green shrubs made the perfect hiding place for field mice and squirrels. I sat there for some time, just breathing, experiencing, enjoying. Knowing that in the end, this is the sort of place I wanted to find… I felt more at home here than I had in the weeks since I’d arrived, as if it was put here, just for me.

On my way back I stopped for a chat with the white swans, took a breath before exiting and took a moment for the desire to jump up and down with excitement and relief to subside and carried on my way into the main section of town.

As I walked through the streets of Bath I couldn’t get over the magnificent regality of the buildings, the pillars and the off-white stone, the arch windows and grand dark wood doors. The houses, the churches… everything. Like nothing I had witnessed before. Loved the cobbled streets, tripping over now and then, but enjoying watching my feet skate over them, moss in between the cobbles. Walking down another quiet street I discovered a theatre with a sculpture of an angel… wings outspread it looked like it was falling. There was a bat flying toward it and I enjoyed the fact such things were the ‘norm’ in England, that architecture could also be art.

The most important discovery I made was to ensure that I turned into the small streets that barely one person could pass through at a time, because there were secret places. One I came across led to a small courtyard with three little restaurants, all facing toward a water fountain with ivy leaves cascading over the three tears.

When I got to the more central part of the town it was just busy enough to be vibrant, but not to the point that it was uncomfortable or disturbing. People wandered happily, buying fruit from the market stall, sitting at the little jazz café, dashing off to catch a bus and wandering out of Sainsbury’s with bread and wine. Christmas was coming so the streets were lit with Christmas lights, holy and lanterns. Between the buildings hung long holy-like ropes with stars attached. I was so busy looking at the lights and peeking down alleys to find quaint little boutique shops that I didn’t notice the main structure of the town… the thing that everybody comes here to see…

Turning around after taking a photo of yet another light-filled holy encrusted and shining street my breath was taken away, a sheepish smile came across my face and the urge to jump up for delight came over me… There was the Abbey… Such a beautiful and yet daunting gothic structure, my head swivelled up up up to see its peak on the sky line… it was so close, it was there, merely 30 paces away and I’d not noticed it? Did I need to get my eyes checked? And then… oh! How am I going to fit all of that in my camera?!

The arched windows are… simply… beautiful, a feat to exist. The Abbey seems mostly window… so you can imagine how much light seeps into the building itself. I thought it must be heavenly in there, transcendent… I decided that the Abbey deserved more than just a quick afternoon gimpse, it would be the first thing on my list of things to do for tomorrow. Sadly, I turned away (wondering at the same time how lovely it would be to sneak inside and sleep there for the evening, maybe a flask of tea and a blanket… but to wake up in that light, in that building… something to dream about tonight, I thought).

Ofcourse, me being me, found the Bath Markets. A long street filled with Chocolataries, Olde Lolly Shopes, bits and bobs shops and everything else you’ve ever wanted to buy but wouldn’t buy because you ‘want’ it rather than ‘need’ it, and get angry at the fact that you cant just bob in and buy what you want, yelling at the logical part of your mind. Santa distracted me from this internal debate, he was waving from the top of another building across from a Victorian style Church. I waved back and he said he’d get me something very nice for Christmas indeed, I replied that a winning lotto ticket would be more than enough… at which point he laughed – so I’m not sure what that meant?!

Bath is built in a valley between seven hills, therefore its quite cold, and quite hilly in itself. I continued my walk from the main area of town only to discover that I was… as one would assume, at the edge of a very large, quite powerful, and most picturesque river. The river runs through Bath – stupidly I had not idea… not realising that maybe a at the bottom of a valley there would be a lake! From the street level you can look down on the lake, but looking straight you see the rest of Bath tearing up the hill. These lavish buldings set out like layers of a wedding cake, and above, the lushious green of the valley and the orange orbs of trees littering the landscape. It was just perfect, just beautiful… To be able to take it all in like this… I wondered if this is what I didn’t like about London… that everything seems so flat, its hard to take in the magesty of London because of its magnitude and situation. But here, you were fortunate enough to take it all in, all in a moment. Another thing to put on the list then, walk along that lovely river… The bridges across the river, bringing one part of Bath in contact with the other, are wide and tall so as to allow room for offices, or potentially homes? The bottom of the bridge, the part that dips into the water, became three large archways, the water flowed peacefully between them. It was all so ancient. I grabbed my pen and then decided it was far far far too cold to take my gloves off.

The darkness was setting in, though I was thankful for how long the light had lasted today. Rather than carrying on away from the centre of town, I made my way back up the hill. Deciding, ‘yes, this is in the right general direction’, I wandered up what seemed to be a main street which would lead me – hopefully – back to my accommodation. I hadn’t intended to infact come back across the Abbey, but from another angle, so I was walking right next to the Roman Pillars leading into the Roman Baths. How simple… people carrying their shopping, chatting to friends, scolding their child… drinking coffee and tea and laughing and being… modern. Didn’t they realise? Did they not know? There were treading ancient ground! Heavens, they should have been in awe… but no, this was their life. I on the other hand, was not being very ‘cool’ about the whole situation. My bag had slipped off my shoulder and was sitting precariously on my wrist threatening to fall to the ground, my hat had been taken off and was hanging off my other hand as I stood jaw-open in shock at what I was taking in… the Abbey, the Baths, the Pillars… all at one time, there they were, for me… they had stood here for 100s of years and here I was. How amazing. How… how my dreams had come true. I was finally in one of those history books that I used to read thinking, wouldn’t it be lovely to be in Egypt THEN, or be part of the Roman Empire… I was hidden in my imagination, thinking of the ladies and lords, but even before them, the Emporers, the Courtesans… the servants, the soothsayers and the gods and goddesses that were part of every day life.

What a day… the night was finally coming in, my stomach and I discussed whether we could do with a sandwich in our room, or whether we’d prefer to find a nice place to sit down and have pasta. Pasta won the discussion and so my stomach and I headed back to our room to have a shower and get changed again and then identify a suitable place for appropriate consumption.

The shower… was…magnificent. After weeks upon weeks of dribbling-sometimes-cold showers at Kelly’s house, I was shocked and unbelievably relieved to have a proper shower. I stood in there for what seemed like an hour, taking in the luxury. I felt like going down to thank the owners simply for having such a lovely shower. If you are reading this, please ensure you never ever again take a good powerful hot shower for granted, it is one of the most amazing mechanical advances of modern society. In looking for a house share at the moment, it will be the first question to escape my lips when I cross the threshold.

Lying down on my bed afterwards, feeling the steam float off my skin and watching my arms turn from red to pink to white again, I got changed into the best outfit I’d brought, put on my red-coloured lip balm and headed out for a dinner date… with my stomach. At first I couldn’t really find anything appropriate, in the darkness Bath seemed like a whole new place, I couldn’t find the little courtyards with the quaint restaurants, or the main Church… I followed a sign that pointed toward a shopping centre and found, to my surprise and joy, a lovely restaurant on the top floor. It was much posher than I had expected it to be. I was greeted by the maître who was quite shocked when I asked for a table for one. They smiled at me, sadly, almost apologetically, which led to my face turning strawberry-like. There was a reserved seat by the window in the corner, he took the reserved sign off and placed it at another table-for-two and let me have the window sweet. I wanted to explain that I was quite alright, I just wanted a nice meal and there was no microwave or kitchenette in my room – but considering he was very Italian, I doubt he would have understood my fumbling mumbling explanation. Instead I sat happily having been offered a glass of wine and bread for free. I was so entirely looked after I thought I should dine out alone more often! I took out my pad and paper and started writing a list of the days events and identifying the most appropriate approach to tomorrows discoveries.

My waiter came back and asked what I would like, I asked for a Pasta Marinara and when served… it was potentially the best marinara I’ve ever had, filled with the most enormous king prawns, succulent scallops and perfectly flavoured muscles. I was in heaven. I was asked whether it was alright, whether I needed more salt, more cheese… more wine… more anything? About three times during my meal – the staff were just lovely.

Once I’d finally finished my meal and felt completely satisfied, sitting sipping the last of my wine and looking at the church through the window, the people wandering about below, the lights and the night sky, I was offered desert. ‘Why not?’ I thought to myself and asked for the caramel covered strawberry luxury cheese cake… and although I could hardly walk home in my nice jeans, it was the most fabulous cheesecake, with whole real strawberries and warm thick caramel syrup… I was then given a free piece of watermelon to clean my pallet and a cup of tea as well.

What a lovely evening and a perfect meal. With the music and the sound of the waterfountain behind me, the lovely staff and the perfect seat. What a marvellous day. I wandered back to my room thrilled thus far with Bath, I watched Top Gear before having an early night at 9pm, ready for an early morning and a day filled with more discoveries tomorrow.