ketchup: Bath and Stonehenge, 07/02/2010

WHERE: Stonehenge, Bath

WHEN: 07 February 2010

WHAT: Stonehenge, sheep; Roman Baths, the city of Bath

Last weekend (look at me go! So close to caught up), I went on another day trip with NYU. The week before had been spent stressin’ max over presentations, books to be read, and architecture papers; actually none of the aforementioned work was completed by my departure on Sunday morning, but I did my best to let the day be about the trip I was taking rather than the thoughts of “Oh I shouldn’t be here because I have so much work to do.” Adopting this mindset wasn’t as difficult as I make it sound (as any recent student probably knows all too well), and it paid off!

We set out bright (not really, since it’s London) and early Sunday in two coaches, and the organizer on our coach was nice enough to our tired brains to leave the history lesson for right before our arrival at the big rocks. I missed some of the pretty countryside views because I was a-snoozin’, but what I saw was really gorgeous and totally what I expected. The landscape reminded me kind of the Northeast in the fall, like what I saw when took the bus to Washington DC for Thanksgiving, or the not-blizzardy trips we took to Massachusetts.

We de-coached with busses to one side and this view to the other, so there were plenty of cheeky comments about, “Wow, it must be smaller than I imagined,” but then we traversed our way through the “subway” (that’s what they call underground pathways here, and it throws me off everytime!) and… voila!

Vanna White-style, ya knowww

The area is roped off with a path that goes all the way around Stonehenge, so here’s a view a little farther along the path – kind of the back if circles could have backs. But this segment seemed to me rather unorganized, they really should have picked up after themselves; or maybe the neighborhood meanie (see: Sid from Toy Story) came and totally messed it up. In which case, revenge is a dish best served cold.

The sheep were also a big hit; we are such city kidz.

Stonehenge ROCKS!

Here, I think the igneous ingenious artist was trying to send a message about the social climate; on the right we’re shown the alienation of the other, and to the left the structure and order of an exclusive social group.

And upon closer investigation, we’re drawn to believe the outsider is such because of his appearance; his sedimentary lifestyle has left him pock-marked and asymmetrical, much unlike his sturdy counterparts. Again, a commentary on the materialism and image-consciousness of society.

Turning around, we’re reminded of just how solid the group is, how set in stone their hierarchy and group dynamic is; we’re almost lead to believe it’s been this way for thousands and thousands of years. Is there hope for social change, a metamorphic revolution?

Or are we destined to forever face angst and depravity like that we see exuding from this character?

After such in-depth analysis (and some extensive child-stalking – see Facebook), I was ready for the Stonehenge-Bath leg of the excursion, but not before I got something in my belly; I am unfortunately not over my propensity towards car-sickness, no matter how hard I try to act like I am not 7 years old anymore. I couldn’t not order a “rock cake” at the Stonehenge snack bar; it was really just a glorified cinnamon scone, but it was still yummy, and washing it down with a cup of warm peppermint tea really took it to the next level. Emeril would have BAM’ed.

The trip was a quick hour, and ended with the most AMAZING views of the city of Bath. I am going to cheat and add some Google pictures (I couldn’t get to my camera in time) because they were literally breathtaking, and I think I would be morally remiss not to share them with you. At this point, I had already resolved to retire to Bath, and the rest of the day only solidified this decision.

We were split into groups and met up with our tour guides in the little plaza outside Bath Abbey, which is this pretty little thang.

They were just closing the doors for afternoon services, but I managed to snag a little glimpse at the pretty stained glass on the inside. Apparently, because of all the stained glass and the way the church is situated on a hillside, when the inside is lit up for evening services it earns itself the nickname “Lantern of the West”; we didn’t get to see this in action but I’m sure it’s absolutely breathtaking.

Also in the plaza is the entrance to the baths, and the pump room, with this inscription (in the frieze; under the pediment – a feature of classic architecture; situated atop Corinthian orders – MDS, if you’re reading, still waiting on that A). It means “Water is Best”, which I really like (the phrase, but also water itself).

Then our absolutely, unbearably, fantastically adorable guide Felicity took us around the corner to the King and Queen’s baths, to the new Thermae Spas (which had quite the opening ceremonies, read on), to this random complex of apartments that are sort of their version of a nursing home only cuter and more European and beautiful. Retirement, for real.

Most of the buildings in Bath are stone, and they all have dings like these all over them. The hail-damage is actually from shrapnel during World War II; Hitler bombed Bath as part of this vendetta to bomb certain cities, chosen because they were beautiful. That Hitler, he was kind of an idiot, not to mention a mean guy.

The building on the left has some of the windows filled in; apparently, Bath (and other English cities) have seen their fair share of taxing schemes, one of which had property taxes pegged to the number of windows your house had. Maybe it’s the accountant-mom/IRS-dad gene, but I loved this story.

These houses make up the Royal Crescent. These houses are gorgeous. These houses will be mine. All of them. They are only about £5m each, or £10m, I don’t remember at which point I doubled it to translate it to USD. The point is, all of them. The big green field was the site of those opening ceremonies I told you about; seating was constructed for 15,000 to watch the Three Tenors (Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingo, and Jose Carreras) show off their pipes and subsequently trigger fireworks out of sheer musical, epic force.

A view of the houses on the side, in case you get lost on the way to see me, or want to move in close to me. We can picnic in the park!

Over the past few years, Bath has been trying to clean itself up (in Britain, the puns make themselves) , and here we can see just how tough of a job that must be. The house on the right has been scrubbed (obvs) and the ones on the right still have their gunk – and all that gunk is just from air pollution! Carpool and recycle, yo.

Inside the Assembly Halls, which are very pretty and I would not say no if anyone wanted to marry me in one of them. Each of those chandeliers are insured for £1m each, so they will clearly look just great if I spread them throughout my Royal Crescent flats. And because I know you are too distracted to actually be looking at these chandys I speak of, that is of course tour-guide Felicity. She’s a blast. My favorite was when she told us we could go to the Fashion exhibit to look at Queen Victoria’s dresses and “see how dumpy she really was” and then promptly turned on her heel and continued the tour. The delivery was flawless. She (Feliss, not Queen V) will probably be hanging out with me often at RC, so if you wanted to come over for a dinner we’d love to have you.

Sedan-chairs, the taxi (or car-service, depending on your status) of ancient Bath. The entire tour kept coming back to these suckas (or at least Baby F mentioned them at every opportunity) so it was a little bit of a let-down when turns out they are not the majestic Jesus-toters she made them out to be. But I still would not say no to being hauled around in one. The black one is the working-man’s version, the white one is for important people like you and I.

At the end of the tour, we had a photoshoot with our new best friend, sampled orange-chocolate fudge (like Chocolate Oranges, but fancy), and roamed around Bath looking for real lunch. We ended up at Las Iguanas, where I split a tapas sampler: mussels, nachos, and strips of breaded chicken with Piri-piri sauce; no lie I still think about those chicken strips today. We rushed the waitress and hustled back to the plaza to meet back for our entry into the Roman baths, but luckily made it back with enough time to pop back into the fudge shop and grab ourselves slices “to take away” (the English “to go”). I went with the chocolate orange we had tried earlier, but snuck some of my friends’ Belgian white chocolate swirl. I try not to live with regrets, so I will instead say that I could have picked better, but there it is. Not to say I didn’t finish off my slice within a few short days. I may lament, but I do not hate.

Once armed with our handy-dandy audio guides, we were let loose within the Roman baths.

From the balcony, with Bath Abbey in the background.

Another section of the baths, off to the side. In this pool, you could see the water naturally bubbling to the surface; jacuuuuzzi jacuuuuzzi!

This was probably my favorite part of the whole thing. It was kind of off to the side and quieter, and we were able to get close enough to really feel the heat, and I really got a sense of what an experience the baths must have been. The stones are stained that bright orange, and the greens to the side, because of minerals and nutrients (which are one in the same, I’ve always assumed) in the water. Looking at it now I am really so glad I ingested an entire glass’ worth of this deliciousness.

Later on, after seeing remnants of old entryways and tombstones, and after playing around at the exhibit that showed the hook apparatus they used to get ‘er done, I found my orange water again! (Who loves orange water; Kel loves orange water). I also found the light at the end of the tunnel.

After the religious experience, I went back out to the main area and touched some of the water, which I will say was the perrrfect temperature for bath water. Our Earth is so good at its job; love your Mother.

A random steam room off of the main bath

Finally, the moment we’d all been waiting for! The Bath water is apparently really great for your joints; tastebuds, no. Blood, pennies, my permanent retainers, (D) all of the above. But I did the deed and emptied my glass!