The Joys of Bath

Here is another article I wrote for the Clarion. I was surprised after our lunch with Dr. Conn that he not only read but enjoyed the articles I was writing!




Huddling around the small ornate water fountain, unwilling to pay for a glass of the natural water, we dared each other to take a sip from a leftover glass. It was clear from the grimace which soon followed on our faces that these “healing” waters of Bath were not worth the taste.
After our initial week in Cambridge, it was time to go on another excursion. We traveled two hours through windy roads to the small city of Bath, nestled between rolling hills. At night, the whole countryside is dotted with warm street lights up the side of the slope. The city is not a conventional industrial town; it is more like an ancient tourist city.

The Romans (it always seems to start with them) discovered these hot springs and built enormous bathing temples around them. Since that time, generations and generations of people have been discovering and rediscovering these hot springs. Finally the area has grown into the beautiful city we visited today, filled with spas and museums. It was after the tour of these Roman Baths that we seized the opportunity to slurp down some copper-tasting lukewarm water.

We did not stay in the city of Bath the whole time. We spent most of our time touring the ancient ruins that were still left in England. Beginning with the earliest druid stone circles to the city walls and grassy amphitheaters left by the Romans, we touched the remains of these once-
thriving cultures.

At first glance, standing on a pile of rubble in what used to be a stone hall doesn’t seem quite so majestic. Yet, after a while, the weight of history that surrounds these places becomes almost surreal.

The giant stone circles were older than any monument in the United States. Sitting on the edge of the Roman baths feels like a land and time so far removed to understand. At these exact places, other humans were seeing what I was seeing. I was separated from them by time, not space.

Now all that they leave behind is rubble memories. England is so old that there are ruins built on top of ruins. At one point we were able to visit a castle in Chepstow. It was quite refreshing to see this monument still standing strong. Looking up at the ramparts from outside the castle, I would not want to attack this place. The walls were 40 feet high and solid stone with arrow slits, catapults, and deadly contraptions.

I have never seen such a place made solely out of stone: stone steps, rooms, windows, lawns. I would not be surprised to stumble upon a stone couch and bed. Though this castle would be defensible, it would have been an awfully cold and hard place to live.
For all its lack of historical significance, I was quite satisfied sleeping on feather pillows at our hotel.

Roman Ruins!!

After taking a incredibly fascinating tour of Hadrian's wall and running all around the half-walled ruins, we climbed into our coach, ate lunch, and headed off to yet another Roman ruins.

Though I was mildly interested in these rubbled remains, the boys could not contain their excitement. Two Roman ruins in one day was almost more than they could handle!

I was able to capture their enthusiasm as they poured over the ancient Roman artifacts in the museum.

Fells of England

I have arrived back in Cambridge (and unlimited internet access) from the beautiful, indescribable Lake District. We spent four days in a hostel located literally on the edge of a pristine lake. This is the district where they joke that there are more sheep than people. Everywhere are rolling hills with stone walled pastures. I did not realize until I got there, but the Lake District is more mountainous than hilly. Amber, a girl from Colorado, said that it reminds her of home. Even in winter, the place was breathtaking with morning mists on the lake, colorful sunsets over the mountains followed by bright starry nights.
I was glad to get out of the city and start roughing it again. I joked to one of the guys that I want to climb one of the giant snow peaked mountains before we go. Little did I know. The second day there, we went for a kayaking trip on the lake and rock climbing in the mountains. I forgot how much I missed rock climbing until I was dangling off the side of a sheer rock wall high up the side of a mountain. The rush and determination to make it to the top was so rejuvenating. At one point I slipped off the wall and spun around at the same time so that for a split second as I was falling in midair, all I could see was massive mountains and open air.
The people from the Lake District are very interesting. One of our climbing instructors said that, now nearing forty, he still does not have a steady income. This long haired, lanky, English hippy worked only long enough to get enough money to pay for his adventures. On the off seasons he said he would build houses. At a quiet pub on the lake, next to the warm fireplace, you will hear all kinds of British mountain men with grizzle white bears and chunky boots.
Dr. Hogg, our tour guide and professor, is the best representation of the local country men. Clad in his usual tie up boots, tweed pants, striped scarf and hat, he out paced everyone in our group. The third day there, expecting a leisurely walk along the mountain hills, as we did the day before, Dr. Hogg took us for an authentic “fells walk.” This was anything but leisurely. Before I realized where we were headed, we were on the side of a mountain. Crawling up the icy trail, we were soon overtaken by a growing cloud of snow. It was pitiful watching our group of underdressed Americans blindly following our chipper guide three times our age.
For all the arduous climbing and slipping, the views were more than worth it. For a moment, arriving at the top of this snowy mountain, the whole world melted beneath me. I was eye level with the noble peaks.
The trek down the other side was like stepping away from civilization into the wild lands of “fell walking.” And walk we did, and sliding, down into a quite valley inhabited by a few houses and one pub. After a quaint lunch, we headed on and up another path winding through sheep pastures along stone walls. Everywhere, even over the peaks, is the checkered outline of stone walls created by the herdsmen at one time.
After our insane 1,600 ft mountain hike, we descended into the village in need of some warmth and shelter from the sudden rain. To my relief, we found ourselves at a quaint coffee shop. I ordered a latte with heart shaped chocolate dust on top and a piece of dark chocolate on the side. This life wasn’t so bad.

Snow Day

Cambridge was transformed into a winter wonderland today. My amateur meteorologist reading would say it was about three to four inches of snow. I did what most any mature adult would do, grab my camera and snow boots and run out the door. Since I rarely see such large amounts of this white fluffy substance, I was overjoyed at just standing in a snow covered park as weightless flakes frosted my hair and eyelashes.

Even as a foreigner, I found that the simple joys of fresh fallen snow will unite people across any conceivable social barrier. Suddenly the stiff, all business looking gentlemen and the purpose driven student were found sauntering through the frosted streets with a half quizzical smile on their faces. Mothers with rosy cheeked children, old men walking their gleeful little dogs, young school boys rolling up massive snowmen almost became a more common sight than snow.

The night before, when we discovered freshly falling snow, several of our bravest (or stupidest) guys decided to sled off the side of Castle Hill. I tagged along to document and in case of emergency. Castle Hill is a thirteenth century monument left by the Romans during their occupation of Cambridge. Today it is simply a very tall random steep hill, and that night, it was the perfect place to sled. From the top, it looked like a thirty foot drop to the snowy lawn with a narrow gateway formed by the metal sign and a tree.

When we arrived, we realized that we weren’t alone. Tons of other students were sledding down its vertical slopes with anything from pots and pan to plastic windshields. The most peculiar sight was to see girls in skirts and tights, trying to gracefully sled (or more like tumble) down the hill.

I must confess that after watching John and Dave dive down the slopes a few times, I put down my camera, grabbed a trash bag, and went for it. After that night I was thoroughly cold and missing another button from my coat, but quite satisfied.

Cambridge News

I am fortunate enough to be a columnist for the Lee University school newspaper, The Clarion, and being my first experience with journalism writing, I don't promise literary genius. All that to say, this is my first article printed for them, along with some more pictures I enjoyed:

Imagine a line of 22 students, wobbling along narrow stone streets with double-decker buses and cars rushing past. The 2009 Cambridge group has arrived in Europe from Lee University. For two and a half months, myself and 20 other Lee students will be touring England, Ireland and Europe.

We begin our distant travels in the town of Cambridge. Our base camp is the Hamilton Hotel, one of several old brick buildings squeezed together along Chesterton Street. Because of the narrow streets and the lack of parking, the entire town is overrun with bikes.Though this may not seem like such a difficult mode of transportation, trying to navigate the web of city streets while wearing layers of rain-proof clothing on skinny bikes takes quite a lot of skill. Not to mention the fact that we have to ride on the left side of the road. With the loss of all orientation and navigation nearly impossible, I find it best to just enjoy the scenery.

Cambridge is a melting pot of all nationalities. At the center of the town is an open market full of all kinds of booths, from antique British coins to produce markets. Each street has its own character. I came upon an old book store, barely the size of my bedroom, with stacks of antique books covering the walls. Right next door is an equally small and quaint coffee and tea shop with about two tables and a small deli case.

The University of Cambridge is not one single college, as I had assumed, but actually a collection of colleges, crammed together along the river Cam. Each college was built at different times, dating back to the fourteenth century. Kings College, built by England’s monarchs, is the most commonly known college in Cambridge.The chapel, with its intricate marble carvings stretching up the walls and flowing into a spectacular patterned ceiling, was absolutely breathtaking. I was able to go to the evensong service this Friday and listened to the delicate and trained voices of their boys choir as they gave the service.

Unlike the church services I am used to, with a stage and a center pulpit, the structure and seating in the chapel were quite different. The choir and audience lined along the walls facing each other with a center isle in between. The lesson was read from the back of the audience to emphasize Christ as the head and the collective body. We stood for the songs and the reading of the lessons and knelt for prayer. At one point, as everyone suddenly turned to the front altar, I assumed we were about to leave and grabbed my bag. I was about to make a dash for the aisle when I realized in time that no one else was moving.

These four days have already flown by and tomorrow we leave for Stratford-Upon-Avon, the home of William Shakespeare, and later we will spend a few days in Bath. I would love to stay and explore more of Cambridge, though it will be nice to not have to risk my life biking to campus.

Home Sweet Cambridge

Ahh, finally we arrive home to our familiar surroundings in Cambridge. We have just spent the last week in Bath visiting the various roman ruins. We even got the chance to meet the actual Mayor of Bath (a quite interesting chap!). The highlight of the trip so far has been out visit to Wales and Tintern Abby.

The old monastery ruin was sobering and beautiful. What used to be the church was only a stone skeleton, tucked away in the Walsh mountains. It was this abby that had inspired Wordsworth to write “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abby.” In his time, the ruin would have been occupied by trees and wild shrubs instead of the well groomed courtyards.

We also visited Oxford (the ancient rival of Cambridge) and went to the famous pub, Eagle and Child, where C.S. Lewis and the Inklings met. The next day we were able to tour C.S. Lewis’ house (the Kilns) which was like a step back in time. It gave me the urge to relax by the fireplace with a pipe and a good book.

But for all our endless touring and hundreds of pictures, it feels oddly safe and familiar back in Cambridge.

Study Abroad

I am going to Europe for two and a half months, seeing as much of the sites and people as possible. We arrived safe and sound and I was lucky to have my camera survive the trip in luggage hull. After exploring the colleges (which extend for what seems forever) and getting thoroughly lost through all the roundabouts and one way streets, I was able to steal a few interesting pictures. These are my favorite so far.

Vintage House

I noticed this view from across my apartment. The dreary winter day created perfect lighting and contrast of the building stood out to me.

I have recently bought a new digital camera (Cannon Rebel XT) from my sister. I love playing around with the manual settings. Here are a few of my favorite ones...

Girl Night

Tonight, I found myself alone in my apartment. The quiet walls threatened to drive me insane and a bitter winter wind barred the door outside. Finally, unwilling to drown myself in yet another empty entertaining movie, I decided to fight the boredom and fatigue with a new weapon…
Poetry.
In a short time I was curled up on the couch under layers of coats and blankets (since we are trying to save money on the heating bill) comforted with the melancholy music by Sigur Ros playing in the background. A single candlestick shoved into a glass bottle stood poised on the coffee table, a small compromise for a fireplace. At last I was able to catch up with some of my most beloved authors.