In wenigen Tagen ist Weihnachten und ich möchte mich hiermit bei den Sandworm-Lesern und Leserinnen bedanken und allen schöne Feiertage wünschen.
In a few days it’s Christmas and I would hereby like to thank the readers of The Sandworm and to wish you all peaceful holidays.
Susanne, 20. Dezember 2009
Last week I got an email from Bob Dylan. Not from him personally of course, but rather from his record company, who was kind enough to inform me, that Dylan’s latest video „Little Drummer Boy“ was being released and could be viewed on Amazon.com. I didn’t lose much time and headed over to Amazon, where I found some information as to the fact that the entire proceeds of Dylan’s new album „Christmas in the Heart“ would go to charitable causes, mainly to people who don’t have enough money to feed themselves or their families. I already own the album, but hadn’t spent any of my own money on it and so I felt bad for a while, because after all Dylan’s cause is a noble one.
Feeling somewhat guilty I decided I’d still watch the video, where only seconds later I found myself in the middle of an astonishing work of art. The video had been done by an artist called Jeff Sher, and it confirmed my long held belief, that Dylan knows what he’s doing. Not only that, but he also knows what other people are doing (right).
After all he’s made some great videos – „Subterranean Homesick Blues“ comes to mind – on the Album „Together Through Life“ he used photographies of Bruce Davidson in the clip for „Beyond Here Lies Nothing“. There wouldn’t have been any reason to doubt that Jeff Sher was the right choice.
I was really moved by the way he had made the clip, the way the pictures spoke to me, about what Christmas means to me personally. Which is not so much that it’s a religious holiday, but rather one where you get together with your family, reunite and have a good time.
Actually, I was so impressed that I started looking around on the web to find more information about Sher and a moment later, I decided that I would just go ahead and write him an email, to let him know how much I liked his video. I did that because I was thinking about my own feelings of satisfaction, when people who don’t even know me, comment on my work. I admit, I love that. And I thought maybe Mr. Sher would too. So I wrote him that email.
To my surprise he wrote back, only a few hours later and not only did he write back, he thanked me for complimenting him and was nice enough to share some insights into his work for the video as well as some very interesting details about his personal background.
His grandfather, he says, was actually from Vienna (Austria), which is where I’m sitting at the moment, but he had left the city right after World War I to emigrate to the US. He had worked as a barber here, but was apparently an extremely talented man, speaking seven languages. Unfortunately he died young and much of his life remains a mystery to Mr. Sher, who must have, however, inherited some of his grandfather’s talents.
Jeff Sher works in New York City now, he paints and he’s an experimental filmmaker. Successfully so! You can see some of his artwork on the New York Times Opinionater Blog, and not to forget, he’s responsible for the latest Bob Dylan video.
Mr. Sher was kind enough to share some photos with me (and with permission, the rest of the world as of now…) and told me a little bit about how it all happened. He’s admittedly a great Dylan fan, as am I, and he was asked to do the video for „Little Drummer Boy“ by the people working for Dylan. They told him that „he wants you to do what you do“, which actually makes me very jealous, because I continually find myself imagining how it would be if Dylan, or rather the people who work for him, told me something like that one day. Anyhow, Mr. Sher was left completely free in his choice of theme for the video. They only gave him five weeks time, which he spent painting picture after picture, which needed to be filmed, in order to create the video. Mr. Sher ended up painting around 2000 pictures, a workload, which is beautifully illustrated by the picture he sent along displaying all the paintings neatly stacked in his home.
Which makes one appreciate a work of art even more. Coincident or not, the fact that I live in Vienna and Mr. Sher having a grandfather who came from here, more so, the fact that he actually came here himself in 1969 and still remembers the morbid atmosphere of the town (nothing has changed…), the wine, the old master paintings at the Kunsthistorische Museum, and apparently to this day fancies the Austrian experimental film-maker Peter Kubelka, all that seems like it was made for being written here on my blog. Dylan meets Sher meets The Sandworm. A Christmas Carol.
More information about Jeff Sher:
The New York Times’ Opinionator Blog
Susanne, 13 December 2009
Country and folk musik always has a rebellious touch. You might not hear it right away, when you lean back and enjoy just the musical part, but it does, when you start listening to the words, when you know what Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash stood for in their heydays, and when you’re familiar with their always subersive personalities and lyrics. Then you will understand that it felt as if Kris Kristofferson’s concert at Vienna Stadhalle on November 5th had been planned to coincide with the gathering of a crowd of student protesters outside of the venue. For me anyway it was ideal. I’m not a student anymore, but I sympathize with their plight and so I marched with them all the way to Vienna Stadthalle, to then move on over a few steps and enter a whole different universe, or so it seemed, when I saw the people, who were going to see country rebel and legend Kristofferson with me that evening.
I had expected an entirely different crowd, more in the direction of Grizzly Adams on the men’s side and an aged but still subversive Janis Joplin type on the women’s side, yet the people who waited to enter the concert hall seemed to belong to an entirely different breed. They appeared to be more like the people you would encounter at a rather provincial Austrian train station. A diverse mix of men and women; on average a little older.
So here I was in the midst of this curious crowd of Austrian Kristofferson lovers and wherever I turned I would see yet another peculiar looking person. There would be older men, with receding hairlines, heavier set women with shiny satin blouses, gentlemen type men with suits and tie, middle aged women in close fitting dresses, that seemed a bit too tight already, older couples, who looked like they had just left the weekly seniors’ club meeting, and finally, three rare examples of the Austrian country western aficionado, who finally got a chance to show off their bootlace ties and exclusively embroidered western shirts.
Even more so was it comforting to know that a crowd so incredibly diverse could share a common interest: the music of Kris Kristofferson, who hit the stage almost on time shortly after 8 pm, equipped only with a guitar and a harmonica. And I’m quite sure that nobody in the audience was disappointed that evening, because it didn’t take much to notice that these vastly different people were, each and everyone of them, die-hard Kristofferson followers. You’d see them when you turned and looked around, you didn’t even have to search long and you’d be able to spot them all over the place, the true believers, the ones who would sit in their seats and whose lips would silently form every single word Kristofferson was singing right in that moment when you looked at them and together with this prayer-like form of adoration you’d see this expression on their faces, a mixture of melancholy and understanding. Always seeming to say something like „I know what you’re saying, I’ve been there too“.
Kristofferson started the show with „Closer to the Bone“ which shares the same title as his latest album, and with just a small break during the concert he went through an impressive catalogue of songs such as „Me and Bobby McGee“, „Help Me Make It Through the Night“, „Love Don’t Live Here Anymore“, „Final Attraction“, „Sandinista“, „Silver Tongued Devil and I“ or „Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down“.
I am quite sure – no actually I am sure – that Kris Kristofferson was just as pleased as his audience that night, because there was this very special moment at the end of the concert, a moment that, if it wasn’t real, at least would be something that distinguishes a great artist from an average artist. He had just played his last song, or so it appeared, the audience was enthusiastic and he seemed to really be enjoying the love which was thrown at him, when he stopped and considered for just a second and then turned to us and said: „Wait, I’ve got another one for you“. That’s when he bid us farewell with the lovely, endearing „Don’t Tell Me How the Story Ends“, which starts like this:
This could be our last good night together; we may never pass this way again; just let me enjoy it ’til it’s over, or forever; please don’t tell me how the story ends.
Or I should say almost bid us farewell, because after Kristofferson had finished playing he spent yet another twenty minutes signing what seemed an endless amount of pictures, CDs and ticket-stubs his admirers had brought along for just that opportunity. As for me, I shook Kris Kristofferson’s hand that night and went home happy.
Susanne, November 8 2009
Last time I wrote about a concert here – Magnolia Electric Co.’s gig on October 12th – I found myself telling you, that one of the main reasons why I go to see a band play live, is the fact that it allows me to escape reality for a night; basically the same reason, why people go to the movies. I’ve come to think about this more over the past days and I realized that I had never consciously thought about it until that last review, which I wrote. But it is actually a very important basis on which I decide whether I will go and see a band play or not. And when I complain about too few good bands coming to perform in Vienna, it’s partially routed in my very picky musical taste, as well as in the fact, that I’d rather see just one great concert the entire year, than ten mediocre ones.
Fortunately this year will not turn out to be „the year of the one concert“, because thankfully quite a few great bands have decided to stop in Vienna this year, among them Richmond Fontaine, who played last Wednesday, October 21st, at a venue called „Gasthaus Vorstadt“. Which is what made this concert even more interesting to me, because I’ve never been to that place before and so I found myself not just looking forward to hearing Richmond Fontaine play, but also almost childishly curious about this never before seen venue. Additionally, I had just finished Willy Vlautins last book „Northline“ that afternoon, which might be a rather meaningless piece of information, unless you knew that Willy Vlautin also happens to be Richmond Fontaine’s frontman, responsible for most of their songwriting.
Thanks to my co-blogger Martin, I had just recently found out about Richmond Fontaine and had thought that I might as well read one of Vlautin’s books, since I don’t remember another opportunity, where I’d had the pleasure of listening to someone’s music as well as having read something he or she had published. Of course that may be founded in the fact, that most of the books I currently read are authored by people who are already dead, so Vlautin’s books were a welcomed diversion in any case. I’m saying books, because I enjoyed the first novel „Motel Life“ so much that I bought the second one as well, and after having secured copies of the two recent albums by Richmond Fontaine („Thirteen Cities“ and „We used to think the Freeway sounded like a River“), I found myself headed for „Gasthaus Vorstadt“ feeling sufficiently informed and apart from that in an excellent mood.
The „Gasthaus Vorstadt“ is located in Vienna’s 16th district, one of the less charming areas in the city, in my opinion, but as I walked from the subway towards the venue, a store like „Gringo Western Boots“ looked like a secret signpost among the Turkish Cafés and Chinese Restaurants on Herbststraße. But before I could spend too much time trying to figure out, who might be the customers of „Gringo Western Boots“, I had already reached the place I was looking for, which turned out to be unexpectedly nice, with a comfortable, almost rustic atmosphere.
From the room, where the stage was located, you could already hear Richmond Fontaine doing their soundcheck. Every now and then a band member would walk through the restaurant, it seemed as if everybody was naturally in a good mood that night. And so it was all very relaxed, no need to hurry in order to find a good spot, my friends and I could still have a beer, something to eat and an interesting conversation over politics – which is exactly what you would expect to be doing in a Gasthaus anyway. Finally the opening act – a band called Electronic Dictionary – was getting ready to play, and we moved over to the room where the stage was set, which was separated by a swing door, which in turn gave that room a kind of a saloon-like feel.
The opening act wasn’t anything that fit my musical taste, but that turned out to be a good thing, because I decided to go to the bathroom before Richmond Fontaine would play and I was lucky enough to meet Willy Vlautin on my way back. Ok, I didn’t really meet him, I kind of disturbed him, while he ate his dinner, but only because I really needed to know whether he would be signing his books after the show. Thankfully he did, as a result of which I can now pride myself with both his novels on my bookshelf signed by the author.
After another young man, equipped with guitar and harmonica, played a few songs – unfortunately I couldn’t hear his name – it was finally time for the main act to hit the stage and what followed was not only a great concert, but also another mental journey to places far away. If I were to try and describe the music of Richmond Fontaine, I would ask you to picture yourself in a pleasant room, outside it’s snowing and inside it’s all warm and comfortable. There’s a fire going in the open fireplace and you’re sitting in that room together with an old friend you haven’t seen in ages and who’d come to visit you out of the blue. You’re drinking a glass of Whiskey and this friend of yours is telling you what happened to him over those many years, where you haven’t seen each other. And that it’s been all but easy. Sure, there were good times, and he’ll tell you some anecdotes which will make the both of you smile, but there’ll also be heart-wrenching stories, which will make your eyes misty and will make you put your arm around that friend and tell him, that everything will be alright.
And so you didn’t really notice when Willy Vlautin read a short part of his new novel to the audience, because his band-mate would every once in a while pluck a chord on his guitar and produce this particular sound, which would slowly stream through the room and turn spoken words into music and vice versa. And all of a sudden the whole audience would be transported into this room with that old friend, listening to his tales of good and bad times. After a few minutes the band joined in, the concert had officially started and you’d follow this friend’s narrative, which consisted of songs off of the last two albums mostly, some instrumental parts, quieter passages as well as really good rocking ones. Because after all, life might not always be fair, but there are still enough reasons to party as well.
Eventually, after the concert had ended, and after one last drink with my friends, I would be walking home, after midnight, smiling to myself, because I’d just returned from one of those journeys, which don’t cost a whole lot of money, but which take you far away, without actually traveling a great distance. And I’d even returned with some souvenirs: A pretty Richmond Fontaine T-Shirt, two books that had been signed and the knowledge that even though there will most likely be only one more concert for me this year, which will be Kris Kristofferson on November 5th, I’m already more than satisfied with the concert-year of 2009.
For everybody who doesn’t know Richmond Fontaine, I can highly recommend the above mentioned albums, as well as Willy Vlautins novels. There’s a new one on the way, called „Lean on Pete“, which will be published in February of 2010.
Useful links:
Susanne, October 25 2009
Ever since The Sandworm went bilingual earlier this year and started publishing travel reports in English, it turned out that these articles were quite popular. Not only because I usually write about places that don’t get written about that often, but also because I like to write about things that don’t fall into the usual touristy categories (You can find all the articles under the link „English“, to your right). So in order to move things along here at The Sandworm, I have decided to enlighten you even further and to start publishing English reviews of the concerts I visit.
But before I get to the point, which this time centers around the gig Magnolia Electric Co. played last week in Vienna, I shall warn you in advance what you’re not going to read about in any of the concert reviews I am going to publish. I won’t be able to cite a complete set list, because that’s not why I go and listen to concerts in the first place. I don’t care much whether this song or that one got played and whether it was an older version of the original song, or if the band was actually covering somebody else’s song. Don’t get me wrong, I usually do know a majority of the songs of the bands I will go and see, but what I most care about is whether the music that night was great. Whether the audience had a good time and if able to determine, whether the band enjoyed their gig as well. I won’t know if the bass player was off key, but I’ll tell you if the band was able to transmit something beyond just a tune or a song, whether they were able to convey a certain mood, a specific feeling, whether they were capable of letting you forget for that one evening where you lived and what kind of problems bothered you and whether you went home that night thinking „Wow, what a terrific concert!“. That’s what you’re going to read about here at The Sandworm.
This time it’s all about Magnolia Electric Co., which accomplished every single one of the above outlined criteria that make up a good, a great, concert. The band, a collective of 4 guys and one Jason Molina, who’s the center the band gravitates around and who had had other quite successful musical projects in the past, had been booked for a gig to be played on October 12 2009, at a Viennese venue called WUK. The WUK is one of the mid-sized places in Vienna, holding up to 600 people in its large hall, and actually one of the better concert locations, of which, in my opinion, there aren’t many in Vienna.
It was a Monday night and winter had let everybody in Vienna know that even though October may officially still count as fall, it was the same as with the rest of the things that usually happen in this country, which is that nobody really gives a damn about anything „official“. And so it was freezing cold outside when I was on my way to the venue, which is located in the 9th Viennese district and where I found myself with a handful of other music lovers, who all looked as miserable as I must have, when I entered the place. Fortunately, that was soon going to change.
The opening act was delivered by a guy called Chris Brokaw, who did a great job in setting the right tone for an evening, which would quickly make everybody forget the dreadful weather outside. About 45 minutes of singer-songwriter type music, rather low key, passed and after a short break, a refill of my beer at the bar, a quick conversation with two friends there, I was ready for Magnolia Electric Co. And so was the rest of the audience, which by this time was thankfully beginning to fill the place up (there’s hardly anything more disappointing than a half filled concert hall…).
I had seen the band two years ago at a place called Szene Wien, where they played quite a good concert, but in my point of view, their songs had been arranged in a way, that was just a bit too much on the slow/melancholy side. So I was quite anxious how the gig would turn out, because Magnolia Electric Co.’s last album „Josephine“, despite being a beautiful album, is rather laid-back and contemplative, and with the weather outside I was in desperate need for something to lift my spirits.
Finally the band entered the stage, Molina seemed to be in a good mood, they took up their instruments and started the first tunes of the song that gave the last album its name. „Josephine“, which is in fact a heavy-hearted song and so my heart starting sinking as well, dreading the prospect of lugging myself home in the freezing cold after everbody got a good dose of depression. But thank goodness, I was wrong and after just a few notes of „Josephine,“ almost as if the band had tried to play a joke on us, they stopped short, hit the drums, struck the chords of their guitars and rocked.
Which is what they did for most of the evening and the crowd was thankful – everybody there seemed to have come out to get a fix of that very effective anti-depressant called Alt-Country. Not because it doesn’t have its melancholy moments, which the concert had too, for example with the beautiful „Shenandoah“, but because it has got this quality that makes you think of the southern regions of the US, where it’s usually warm, or at least you picture it as a warm place, and where people address you with „honey“ without sounding condescending, where everything runs just a little bit slower, more relaxed, with a beer in your hand and a rocking chair. Cliché? Maybe so, but what else do you go to a concert for? Not to get exactly the life you already get every normal day of the week. At least I don’t.
And I didn’t that night either. I got what I had hoped for, more so, because Molina and his band-mates not only managed to get me rocking, swaying along to the songs, which get that special quality from Molina’s sometimes very Neil Young-like tenor, but he actually took me on a trip to Memphis, Tennessee. Simply by wearing a T-Shirt. A shirt which caught my attention the moment he had taken off his jacket and had revealed the following print: Frontside „Gus’s world famous fried chicken“. Backside „You haven’t eaten chicken until you’ve eaten Gus’s fried chicken. Downtown Memphis“. I had been to Memphis and because of the fact that it was there that I had eaten what I now, even years later, would still rate as the best barbequed spare-ribs of my life, I took that Gus’s claim of serving the world’s best fried chicken very seriously.
And so there I was, physically in Vienna, at the WUK, with horrible weather raging outside, emotionally thousands of miles away. In Memphis, listening to a terrific set of Magnolia Electric Co., feeling warm and happy and musing over the fact whether I would ever make it back to Tennessee to give Gus’s famous fried chicken a try. And I am quite sure that the rest of the audience was in an equally satisfactory state of mind, considering that when we left the building, I couldn’t make out a single miserable face in the crowd. And for that matter, it seemed as if the band had had a great night too, for it was on our way out when we passed three of the band members, who were at this point peacefully smoking their cigarettes, who smiled at us and personally bid us farewell with a most cheerful „good night!“. It goes without saying that we thanked them and invited them to come back to Vienna. Soon, please!
Links to the bands:
Susanne, October 18 2009
I had alread declared vacation season as officially over and I was ready to brace myself for the fall in Vienna. For those times when it can be foggy for weeks on end, and blue skies or sunshine seem like very distant, almost unreal, memories. Seasonal depression was lurking just around the corner, when unexpectedly an old friend from school stopped by and declared that she would very much like to spend a few days at the sea. And, even better, she was looking for some company. I graciously volunteered to provide that company and just a few days later we were sitting in her mother’s car driving south. We had chosen Piran as the destination for our 3 day vacation, the weatherforecast was outstanding and the tiny Slovenian town was only a few hours drive from Vienna. To be precise just a little over 300 miles to the south-west.
It had all worked out perfectly. And after leisurely cruising along the Slovenian interstate, and wondering why it took so very long for the landscape to take on the usual southern appearance, watching out for pine trees and cypresses invainly until we had finally left behind the last mountain-ridge south of Ljubljana and were headed for Koper, when all of a sudden the mountains turned into soft rolling hills, the dark alpine green into smooth sandy brown of dried soutern grasses and finally our eyes met with the brilliantly sparkling Adriatic sea. We kept on following the signs for Portorož and after just about 5 hours to the minute we finally pulled up in front of the chosen hotel, Hotel Piran, rapidly unloaded the car, hurriedly got the keys to our room and after having more or less dumped our belongings there, we opened the windows and beheld the sea-view which was to be ours, exclusively for the next 3 days.
Piran is a tiny town on the western-most Slovenian tip of the Istrian peninsula. It had been chosen for out little excursion because friends had been there before and had recommended it. Finally viewing pictures on the web had turned pondering about where to go into certainty, because Piran looked like a beautiful small gem on the Adriatic coast.
And a gem it truly is, even more so, when you see it for yourself. It had been years since I had last traveled in that area, mostly in Croatia, and I had been stunned by the beauty of towns like Dubrovnik and Korčula, the latter resembling Piran quite closely. All three of them owe their similar character to the influence of the ancient Republic of Venice, the empire which reigned over the Mediterranean Sea from medieval ages up to the Renaissance.
Remnants of Venetian architecture can be seen everywhere in Piran, ranging from small houses with the typically arched windows to the Cathedral of Saint George, which sits high on the northern cliff above the city and seems to gracefully watch over the little flock of houses, that has gathered round it. Yet the attention is less on St. George’s Cathedral, with its typically Italian Campanile and Baptistery, than it seems to be on the Adriatic sea, which almost surrounds Piran.
The cape on which the town is built stretches westward, jutting out into the sea and when looking upon it the scenery gives you the impression as if the entirety of Piran’s buildings seem to have crept up onto the westernmost point in order to catch a glimpse of the azure-colored Adriatic sea. So much so that the castle-like appearance of the tiny little church at the tip of the cape, St. Clement (or Lady of Health), solely seems to be owing to the purpose of pressing against the curious little houses, so that none of them accidentally fall into the water.
When you walk eastward from St. George’s Cathedral and ascend yet another elevation, you come to the remainder of the old city wall, which – just as the Campanile of St. George’s – can be climbed for the small price of one Euro. Which is well worth the investment, because from the top of the Campanile as well as from the city walls you get an outstanding view over the town and the sea.
Piran itself is very small, and you’ll be able to get a good impression of what the town has to offer in about a half a day, but you can easily spend several days walking the tiny lanes and continously discover new ones, which you haven’t seen before. Yet, all those wanderings will sooner or later lead you to the social center of Piran – Tartini-Square – which is actually round, where in the evenings you will probably meet with most of the people, who either visit or live in Piran. As soon as the sun sets, the place is bustling with roller-skaters, taking advantage of the smoothly polished, gleaming-white, stone surface of the elliptical center of the plaza, with groups of citizens scattered across the square, apparently exchanging the gossip of the day, or with sun-bathers and swimmers, who have dragged their tired bodies from the beaches and are now enjoying a lazy drink in one of the many out-door cafés.
Yes – there are beaches in Piran, though you won’t find sandy ones. You may put up with shingle beach, or if you’re more interested in swimming in the sea – which seems very clean, by the way – you will be perfectly happy with the cement beaches, as for example right in front of Hotel Piran. And when you’ve had enough of swimming and sun-bathing and want to grab a bite to eat, head for the promenade which leads to the western tip of the cape and is lined with restaurants, cafés and ice-cream parlors. Most of the restaurants offer similar selections of sea-food, I can personally recommend Restaurant Ivo, where you’ll not only get high quality fish-platters and excellent wine to go with it, but where you can also enjoy your meal with an almost tackily beautiful sunset.
Three days seem to be the perfect time-span to spend in Piran. If you’re looking for sandy beaches head east to Portorož, where you’ll also find more entertainment such as casinos, if that’s what you were looking for. Another beautiful Venetian town is Izola, which too is just a few miles from Piran. If you intend to stay longer, you can make all sorts of excursions, there are for example day-trips to Venice, which can be reached in less than 2 hours with a speed boat. Or you can visit Trieste, which is on Italian territory and offers another beautiful historic city center as well as shopping opportunities.
I however didn’t care much for big excursions or extensive shopping, I was settled on soaking up as much sun as possible, swimming in the still warm Adriatic sea, enjoying a leisurly drink at Tartini-Square or just lying in my bed listening to the gentle bubbling and gurgling of the sea. All of this served one specific purpose. It was active immunization against the already threatening fall mists and winter fogs. Alas, they won’t bother me much this year – I’ll just lean back, close my eyes and picture myself in Piran.
Useful Information:
Getting to Piran: Cities in the vicinity of Piran, which can be reached by plane, are Venice, Trieste or Ljubljana. From Venice you can take a ferry which runs in the summer months (2.5 hours; about 53 Euros per Person), from Trieste and Ljubljana trains run to Koper, where you have to change onto a bus to get to Piran. The most comfortable way is probably a rental car from one of the airports. Using Slovenian interstates requires you to pay for toll. A sticker for your windscreen, valid for 7 days, will cost you 14 Euros. Parking in Piran is not free of charge, but you can enter the city to drop off your luggage and your first hour of parking will be free. Just outside the center, there’s long term parking, which costs 11 Euros for every 24 hours.
Accommodation: There are two Hotels in Piran. Hotel Tartini, which is located in the town-center and Hotel Piran. The latter boasts 4 stars, but is actually somewhere in the category of a 2-3 star hotel. Contrary to the indication on the web-page, there isn’t wifi access in all rooms (at least not in the one I had…), and the hotel charges outrageous amounts for the usage of it. Forget the breakfast in the hotel, it is below any standard. Do yourself a favor, cross the plaza opposite of the hotel entrance and have breakfast at the charming cafe Cakola, where they serve excellent coffee. Or march on to the beach promenade and try one of the cafés there. Apart from these minor irritations and a room that has seen its fair share of visitors nothing beats the sea-view of the Hotel Piran. And it is a clean hotel, so after all I can recommend it, with the above mentioned reservations.
Food: The beach promenade is lined with restaurants that offer basically identical choices of sea-food. An excellent place to eat at is Restaurant Ivo. Forget the town Restaurant Verdi – the food we were served there was beyond anything that I would qualify as good quality. If you like to go out and enjoy a drink after your meal, I suggest you head on over to Tartini-Square. There are lots of places that offer outdoor seating, I can recommend the Kantina Žižola, which may stay open later, if the party lasts a little longer.
Additional information on Piran can be found on the official webpage of the region, where you’ll find more details on accommodation, as well as on Wikipedia.
Susanne, 13 September 2009
Lyme Regis quickly passed out of sight as I rode on the bus towards Dorchester. The pale blue of the sea began to blend with the sky and after turning to catch a few more glimpses of the English channel it had given way to the rich green pastures of Dorset county. I was headed for Winchester, the last stop on my road trip through parts of southern England. I can’t deny that Jane Austen had played yet another part in the decision to visit this city. After all I am a great admirer of her writings and having seen Lyme Regis and traced some of her steps as well as the missteps of her literary characters it seemed appropriate that my trip should end, where Jane Austen’s life ended. After a long illness and only 41 years old she had died there on July 18 1817. But it wasn’t Jane Austen alone who influenced the decision to visit Winchester. Romantic poet John Keats was inspired by the beautiful countryside surrounding it and lastly a vicinity to Gatwick airport was a key element in the choice of the destination – my trip was almost over and after 10 days of traveling southern England, I was getting ready to go back home.
In Dorchester I got on the train and after just a little more than an hour and a half I exited at Winchester station. I had found a beautiful B&B in the central, but quieter south-eastern parts of the city, not far from the cathedral and after the devout observance of the ritual cup of tea, which my friendly host had most generously invited me to partake of, I was off to my first exploratory walk through Winchester.
Winchester is a regal city. Wherever you walk you can almost breathe its noble atmosphere. Well groomed gardens, charming houses, a beautifully restored city center with pleasant streets and lanes, that invite you to spend hours just strolling around aimlessly. Or maybe not that aimlessly after all. Everything in the city is dominated by one grand edifice: Winchester Cathedral. And after wandering around town for a bit, looking here and there, I realized that even though the cathedral may not be the geographic center of Winchester, it certainly seems to be its center of attention. No matter where I went, whether I ambled around to the south of the cathedral and marvelled at the gigantic cedars which tower over the generous courts in the close, whether I rambled on past Cheyney Court, through Kings Gate and onto College Street, where you pass private gardens with gigantic Magnolia trees in full bloom and the house where Jane Austen passed away in 1817. Whether I wandered on and took a peek at the ruins of Wolvesey Castle, which used to be the bishop’s palace in medieval times or whether I walked north again along the river Itchen and onwards to the monument of King Alfred the Great (849 – 899), who ruled over the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Wessex, of which Winchester was the capital in those almost forgotten days. Whether I strolled along bustling High Street or whether I drifted off to explore another one of those chaming medieval lanes, again and again I found myself, almost magically, drawn back to the Cathedral. I must have walked by it several times on my first day in Winchester and I realized I wasn’t the only one who felt that way – hundreds of people just like me were gravitating around the cathedral, enjoying the great weather, dozing on the lawns of the beautiful park, which bends around the church’s grand front entrance, sitting there on the benches having lunch or inhaling the peaceful atmosphere that seemed to surround the cathedral grounds.
On my first day I chose not to enter Winchester Cathedral, I enjoyed the walks around the city and after several hours I decided to shift my attention slightly towards less intellectual human interests – I was ready for a good pint of ale. I had already decided to frequent an interesting pub called the Wykeham Arms, which I had briefly visited in the afternoon, searching for some lunch, but which had its kitchen closed during those hours – as it is commonly done in English pubs. I had found my food elsewhere, on the go, but the beautiful interiors of the Wykeham Arms had convinced me to come back. Which I did and yet again I found myself pleasantly surprised by the English hospitality. The bartender, who’d had to tell me that his kitchen was closed in the afternoon, was still there, and even though I hadn’t spent more than 5 minutes in the pub that afternoon, to my great astonishment, he caringly inquired whether I had managed to find something edible that day! Paul was the name of this most hospitable barkeeper, and since it was a slow evening at the Wykeham Arms, he and his pleasant colleague Luke were generous enough to not only serve me some delicious ale, but also to share some interesting and entertaining stories about Winchester and its citizens.
The next day was dedicated to the cathedral and after a hearty breakfast at my B&B, which came together with the Times, personally delivered to the breakfast table by my host as well as some very interesting conversation, I was off and despite the most beautiful weather, I managed to stay inside the cathedral for more than 3 hours without the slightest signs of boredom. The reason for this was once again the marvellous guide system, this time offered by Winchester Cathedral. Together with an Australian couple I had the pleasure of being guided through the church by an extremely well-informed elderly gentlemen, who seemed to know just about everything that was somehow connected with the history of the cathedral – all nicely decorated with a bit of myth and some great anecdotes.
We would see Jane Austen’s grave and find out that she lies buried in the cheaper western division of the church, the east being most expensive, in case you’re already planning…and we would learn that the plaque above her grave, which mentions her literary achievements was put there after her death, because at the time it wasn’t suitable for a woman to write. Jane Austen’s novels had all been published without even mentioning her name, just with the indication „by a lady“. Thankfully her brilliant style is nowadays no more a subject of dispute, she proudly holds her place amongst the worlds most renowned authors.
On we went through the nave, which is the longest of any European cathedral, along beautiful gothic arcitecture as well as some older remainders of the romanesque style, which can still be seen here and there. Around we walked again to the west window, which is probably the world’s greatest (unsolvable) puzzle. It had been blasted to smithereens by Oliver Cromwell’s armed forces, but the citizens of Winchester saved the pieces of broken glass, which can now be seen re-arranged in random, but nevertheless strikingly beautiful, new order – a challenge to any supercomputer to figure out their original pattern.
We went back again towards the east and our walk was most suitably accompanied by a small orchestra practicing medieval music, which was to be performed later. When we reached the apse, we stopped short in front of a black gaping orifice in the feretory platform, which was proudly introduced by our host with the following exclamation: „Welcome to the Holy Hole!“ I must admit, that right then and there I stopped following our guide’s explanations for a minute or two, because in my mind I was watching a succession of imaginary Monty Python skits, which were triggered by the above mentioned exclamation. Only in England is a name like this possible, as well as mentioning it without breaking down in a fit of laughter. I won’t elaborate on any other more Freudian associations. For anybody who is still interested in the facts: The above mentioned hole has been built into the feretory platform, which used to be the location of St. Swithun’s shrine, who is the patron saint of Winchester Cathedral. His shrine was destroyed during the English Reformation in the 16th century, but when it still existed, the hole which is visible now had to be built in order to make the relics of the saint accessible to the many pilgrims, who flocked to Winchester Cathedral. In medieval times pilgrimage was a lucrative business. Only, nobody was lured anywhere, unless there was the possibility to see or at least get very close to the remains of the respective saint and – which was the intended effect – to leave precious gifts. So the hole is actually the entrance to a sort of crawl space that leads around the site of the former shrine.
On we went and we passed another most curious statue in the westernmost corner of the church, which was dedicated to the diver William Walker (1869–1918). A man, who single-handedly saved the cathedral from collapsing. He did so by spending six years diving underneath the church and shoring up the construction. Mr. Walker’s heroic efforts saved the entire cathedral, which had slowly been sinking into the soft grounds beneath – sunken floors in the western corner of the building as well as some strikingly crooked walls and pillars still bear witness of it today.
After finishing the first tour – our host had guided us back and forth around the church for almost two hours – I took adavantage of yet another excursion, this time to see the eerily beautiful crypt of Winchester Cathedral, where – unless it is flooded – you can admire the Anthony Gormley sculpture „Sound II“. Another well informed guide explained the crypt and its function to a small group of about ten people, who, due to the chilly temperatures, were alltogether glad to surface after 30 minutes of cryptic exposure. I then chose to take a short walk through the library of the cathedral, which holds a beautiful medieval Bible, hand-painted by one monk, who would turn in his grave, if he knew that it was a Victorian bishop’s children who cut out some of the ornamental letters, of which only one could be retrieved. A well-founded argument for celibacy, some might venture, maybe it’s just an anecdote. A good one though.
Finally after more than 3 hours of continuous admiration I decided that I had dedicated enough time to Winchester Cathedral. I chose to cancel the pre-planned excursion to the fake „real round table of king Arthur“ in the Great Hall, because outside the sun was shining and all the gloomy medieval tales of bishops and holy holes had left me longing for a leisurely stroll along the water meadows, following in John Keats’ footsteps.
Before I ventured on my poetic promenade – Keats was inspired to his „Ode to Autumn“ when he walked the trails of the river Itchen to St. Cross Hospital – I made another short stop at the Wykeham Arms in order to give their food a try. Well worth it!
Finally I headed out, left the cathedral behind and followed the foot-path to St. Cross. On the way I passed some of Winchester’s schools and colleges, which are renowned in the entire country. Winchester college, for example, is one of the oldest continous running colleges in England, and when walking through the city you constantly seem to bump into the well-groomed boys and girls, prettily dressed in their school uniforms, carrying books or sports equipment. Not surprisingly, I found myself reminded of Harry Potter. I walked on and left the city behind, the day was bright and sunny, and the country presented itself from its most beautiful side.
Weeping willows along the path, which meanders at the side of the calmly flowing Itchen, here a field with a lone archer perfecting his technique, there a leisurely practice game of Cricket, with the players of both teams shining in their bright white uniforms on top of a perfectly manicured lawn, a melancholic swan drifting on the river, horses grazing on a meadow, a row of little ducklings paddeling swiftly after their mother, smells of fresh cut grass in the sun, cool river water in the shade and damp earthy scents along the tree-lined trail towards St. Cross. Not hard to imagine what John Keats must have been thinking when he walked here almost 200 years ago, easy to understand when you read what he wrote:
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun, Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run…..(From John Keats’ „Ode to Autum“)
Finally my last day in Winchester was nearing its end, and I chose to visit one more of the many pleasant pubs in the city. This one was called Black Boy and was recommended to me by my host. The Black Boy is a quirky pub off Chesil Street, which boasts a seemingly endless collection of bizarre artifacts and decorations, as well as a charming garden and a good selection of locally brewed ales. Behind counters of bars and pubs, so my experience, you can often find not only most charming bartkeepers, but on some occasions great artistic talent too. In case of the Black Boy, the girl, who was tapping my ale, turned out to be the singer of a terrific band called „Polly and the Billets Doux“.
Happy about having made an interesting musical discovery, I finished my final ale and headed back to my B&B, realizing that the next morning I would have to leave England. Leave a country, which I had only started to discover and which had still so many places I would have wanted to see. But I didn’t leave sad, because I knew I would take a lot back home with me. Memories of places I had visited, which had left me with the knowledge that everything I had expected, had been surpassed far beyond my expectations. Most importantly, I had learned and lived a great deal on my trip, I had been incredibly lucky to have met the most delightful people on the road and so I finally left England, convinced that I would have no choice but to return to continue my journey. Some day. Hopefully soon.
Useful Information:
Getting to Winchester from London: The train takes about an hour, the bus takes a little longer, but is considerably cheaper (round-trip from 10 Pounds).
Most important information on Winchester can be found on the city’s official homepage, where you’ll find links to accomodation as well. I stayed at the Wolvesey View B&B, which I can highly recommend. The rooms are pleasant, it is centrally located, but in a quiet neighborhood. From the yellow room, you have a beautiful view of Wolvesey Castle, I stayed in the blue room, which was just as nice. More information on Winchester can be found on Wikipedia.
There are many restaurants in Winchester, I can personally recommend the Wykeham Arms, which has a more upscale cuisine in the evenings, but still serves the pub classics for lunch – try the Wyk Pie! It is also a hotel. Nice pubs to visit are The Eclipse Inn, which is a very traditional pub that is frequented by the locals, or the above mentioned Black Boy Pub. All three places have a nice selection of locally brewed ales.
Winchester Cathedral currently charges 6 Pounds entry fee for adults, which includes tours through the cathedral and the crypt as well as the entrance to the library, the tower tour requires a small extra charge. More information can be found here as well as on Wikipedia.
If you like to check out „Polly and the Billets Doux“ – which I would recommend you do – you can do so here.
Susanne, 28 August 2009
So I finally made it back to the seaside. To a lovely town called Lyme Regis, which beat Dorchester in my search for literary locations. Not that I don’t like Thomas Hardy, but Jane Austen is always a good bet and in this respect it was plainly the attribute „seaside“ which was the decisive factor in the choice. And it was a good choice, because Lyme turned out to be the absolute highlight of my journey.
Before I elaborate on Lyme though let me tell you about the trip it took to get there. That indeed surpassed anything that I had seen as far as beautiful English landscapes were concerned, and I had already thought I’d seen the best of them. Lyme Regis is about 60 miles south of Bath. I took the train to Dorchester, from there the bus and found myself traveling fairytale country! Riding through a scenery that could best be described as a true rendering of Tolkien’s Shire (even if Tolkien seemed to have been inspired by landscapes farther to the north): rolling hills, green pastures blotted with white cotton balls, that turned out to be peacefully grazing sheep, tiny stone churches and secluded cottages with thatched roofs. I wouldn’t have been surprised had I seen unicorns galloping the meadows, or hobbits tending to the beautifully kept gardens. At last the many shades of green were contrasted by the deep blue of the approaching sea and the bus stopped short in Lyme Regis.
I had found a pretty B&B with a most welcoming host only steps from the beach and just minutes after I had arrived my first excursion led me to the beach. It was owing to Jane Austen and her book Persuasion, again, that I had become aware of Lyme in the first place. One of the characters in her book, Louisa Musgrove, fell, or I should say stupidly jumped, from a well known structure that’s called the Cobb, an incident which led poet Tennyson to demand „Show me the exact spot where Louisa Musgrove fell!“ when he visited the town. On this point I don’t differ much from Tennyson and with Persuasion being my favorite book by Austen I knew I should very much like to see Lyme. And so I did.
Lyme Regis is a beautiful little town on the southern coast of England, a tiny village, whose houses smoothly nestle against the bay. When you start out from where the buses stop, on Bridge Street, which forms the center of Lyme, you can either head east and explore the fortifications that protected the town from invasions from the sea (during 1588 Lyme Regis sent its own ships to meet the Spanish Armada, the battle could be watched from the coast) or you can stroll to the west along the Marine Parade, which will take you to the harbor and eventually to the aforementioned Cobb – a stone structure, first documented in the 13th century that impressively bends towards the sometimes quite rough waters of the English channel and thus protects Lyme harbor.
My first day in Lyme Regis was overcast and after a short walk around the town, the obligatory inspection of the spot where Louisa Musgrove fell and a stroll along the beach, I chose to explore some of the pubs. I first found myself at the Cobb Arms, a pub/restaurant/bedandbreakfast, where I treated myself to a small portion of chips, which, as I had by now learned, usually turns out to be an enormous heap of the calorie intense dish anyway. Additionally the Cobb Arms offers an impressive choice of ales, which by this time I had devoped a great fondness for. Later on I ventured to a place called Nags Head Inn, where they had live music that night. In this regard and as a foreigner traveling England I have to advise fellow travelers to not make the mistake and hide in their chosen accommodation. In an English pub you will always find someone to talk to, throughout my entire trip the English have proven to be most charming hosts…I got home late that night.
The next day I awoke to blue skies and bright shining sun and after a hearty breakfast, my first path led me to the beach. My agenda for the day included one pre-planned excursion, a venture which I had chosen, not only because it neatly fit with my current reading of Charles Darwin’s „Voyage on the Beagle“ and I was looking for a diversion to the regular touristy undertakings, but also because I had decided not to join the notoriously lobster-colored British sun-worshippers, who are reknowned around the world for stubbornly disregarding their celtic skins’ intolerance to UV radiation and who had already crowded Lyme’s beaches the day before. Instead, I planned to attend one of the fossil walks that were offered in town. Owing to my own academic pursuits, the trials and tribulations that have to be endured in order to secure a PhD, I opted for the one guided by a certain Dr. Colin Dawes. Fossil walks around Lyme are quite popular and one has to know (or will find out when they enter the local tourist information, like I did), that the coast around Lyme is made up of Jurrasic rock, which is rich with fossil remains that can be found on the beaches in the area. In this regard I find it most important to mention that it was a woman, who pioneered the endeavours in the sciences that surround the study of prehistoric life. It was Mary Anning (1799 – 1847), who was just 12 years old when she discovered the first complete skeleton of an ichthyosaur in the area and who subsequently contributed enormously to the then young field of paleontology.
First off though I ventured to the beach, where to my delight I found myself almost blinded by the sea, which boasted a turquois blue that I would have thought was unique to the Caribbean and which forced me to instantaneously sit down in one of the beach cafès and waste an entire hour and a half on „gazing at the sea“. Time, I find, which is spent much to easily when I’m at the seaside, because it is in itself a pleasure and one need not find any other distractions in order to pass the days. Ramble along the beach, stick your feet in the water, or head back to the Cobb and stroll along like Jane Austen or her Persuasion characters – watch out not to fall like Ms. Musgrove – and move on back to the harbor, where you might want to get yourself a crab sandwich like I did. And all of a sudden, just like me, you might realize, that the taste of that sandwich most perfectly harmonizes with the smell of the sea, which you love so much and which, however hard it is to describe, you’ll instantly recognize anywhere you encounter it. You might then notice, just like I did, that the fresh crab-filling of that sandwich is the perfect synesthesia, that all of a sudden you’re able not only to smell the odor of the sea, but taste it on your palate as well and when after this quasi-psychedelic experience you slowly come to, you’ll realize, just like I did: Goodness, it’s almost 1 pm, my fossil walk starts soon!
Only a little while later I found myself joining Dr. Dawes fossil excursion. Actually he calls them fossil hunts, rightly so, because Dr. Dawes, who amiably introduced himself as Colin, is somebody who, with all due respect, would rightfully qualify as a hybrid between a fossil and Indiana Jones. And who, in every respect, is an extensively knowlegeable, most friendly, tour guide and fossil hunter. So we were off, a group of about 10 people, children included, to which Dr. Dawes proved a most attentive teacher, and for the next two hours we rambled along Lyme’s beaches, hunting for our own fossils, having a great time. During these two hours we learned that it is Jurassic beef we should be looking for, rocks, that when they’re split, display an almost beef-like structure – hence the name – and which most often contain fossilized animals. Or we would find out, where on Lyme’s beaches one can find the „Graveyard of Ammonites“ and that the curious shape of fossilized oysters cause them to be called Devil’s Toenails. Finally we headed home, every single hunter happy about having secured their own fossil, even the Dr. himself delighted, because he had found a part of the backbone of an ichthyosaur.
This way time flies by, already it was the afternoon of my last day in Lyme Regis. And so much yet to be seen! You might for example want to stroll along Sherborne Road, one of the oldest roads in Lyme, where each little cottage carries its own whimsical name, displayed on a neat nametag next to the entrance. Or you might like to explore the Long Entry, a lane where the author Henry Fielding (1707 – 1754) botched an attempt to abduct a young lady, an experience which he later incorporated in his famous novel „Tom Jones“. The renowned painter James Abbot McNeill Whistler (1834 – 1903) lived in Lyme Regis for a while and, among others, painted the portrait „Little Rose of Lyme Regis“. The author John Fowles (1926 – 2005) wrote the novel „The French Lieutenant’s Woman “ here, which was filmed on location with Meryl Streep in 1981. You may want to wander from Monmouth Street to St. Michael’s Church, walk across the serene churchyard, where Mary Anning lies buried, and head out to a hill high above the English channel. There you’ll find a few lonely benches, where you can seat yourself and enjoy a great view of sea.
Plenty more places to see in Lyme Regis, but time was limited. A bite to eat at the Harbor Inn; one last pint of ale; one more glimpse of the sea and I admit, I felt my heart slightly aching, knowing I had to leave Lyme the next morning.
Last stop: Winchester
Useful Information:
Travel to Lyme from London: By train to Dorchester (the ride takes about 2.5 hours) and then by bus to Lyme. You can also take the bus from London to Dorchester, that is considerably cheaper, but it takes longer.
All useful information on Lmye Regis can be found on Lyme’s official homepage. I found my accommodation by referral from another B&B, my most generous host prefers to find guests this way, which is why I won’t mention her address. Plenty of other accommodation though, can be found in all categories throughout town. Be advised that Lyme Regis can be very busy during the summer season, which is why I would recommend a visit during the off-season, at best during the week, if you prefer solitude, as the natives tell me, Lyme is deserted in winter. More information on the town and its sights can be found on Wikipedia.
There are plenty of Restaurants, Cafés and other places where you can grab a bite to eat in Lyme, especially on Broad Street and at the harbor. For seafood I can recommend the Harbor Inn and the Royal Standard. Outstanding crab sandwiches can be found at The Lyme Bay Sandwich Company (at the harbor)
Information on Dr. Colin Dawes’ fossil hunts can be found here. From June until September tours take place on Sundays at 1 pm, during the holidays extra tours are added on Wednesdays, no reservation necessary. I advise you to wear reasonable shoes (no flip-flops), bring a hat (the sun can be relentless on the beach) and adequate clothes (the wind can get quite chilly even during the warm months).
Susanne, 13 August 2009
ps: By the way, just in case you care to know, this is the exact spot where Louisa Musgrove fell…supposedly.
I had finally made it to Bath. It was only a short trip from Salisbury, barely an hour through the charming countrysides of Wiltshire and Somerset, each one vying with the other for the top spot in my personal list of the most beautiful, not knowing that both of them would be crushed by a yet unknown competitor. Dorset. But that is another story, soon to be told.
It was around 10 in the morning, when I got off the train in Bath, my hotel, a guesthouse actually, was conveniently located just minutes from the station and by the time it was noon, I had checked in, freshened up and was ready to explore Bath. So I headed straight to the center of the city and the first impressions that I got were sufficient to decide on the spot that I would extend my stay an additional night, giving me three full days in Bath. Three full days in the city that I initially put on my itinerary for just two reasons. Number one: Jane Austen. Number two: „Persuasion“. I’ve admired Austen for a long time, this particular book is my favorite among her writings. The author herself has spent considerable time in Bath and it is here as well, that essential parts of Persuasion take place. I came here to see for myself what it is that makes this city special, I left with a number of additional reasons why one should come and see Bath, not just because of Austen or Persuasion.
When one enters a city like Bath, a place that is too big to just go wandering around trying to get a first impression, but yet small enough that an initial inspection can be accomplished in a walking manner, one wonders what’s the best way to get a good first look. I am basically a walker and there’s nothing that beats exploring a city by just, more or less, aimlessly wandering about. You can only do that though, when you’re equipped with sufficient time. I needed a controlled version of rambling the city. And so when I headed into the tourist information office, which is conveniently located in the building next to the Abbey, I knew I had to be persistent, in order not to be ushered onto one of those hop-on hop-off bus tours (which I personally try to avoid unless I really have no other choice, as for example when visiting Stonehenge). It didn’t take much persistence, the friendly lady at the counter freely let me in on the open secret that walking tours through the city are indeed available and to my great joy they were completely free of charge! My heartful thanks go out to the Bath mayoralty, they have been organising these walks since 1930. A service which I’ve commented on in my entry on Salisbury and which to this day impresses me very much: volunteers, mostly senior citizens, who possess an astounding depth of knowledge about the various places in the city, guide the interested tourist, such as me, in the most informative, humorous and pleasant way, all this free of charge and for up to two hours!
With the next tour starting in only an hour I passed the time in a charming little pub called Coeur de Lion, which not only serves locally brewed ale, but excellent food as well. At two o’clock I finally found myself joining a colourful group of tourists, who were being welcomed by an elderly gentleman, our guide for the next two hours. So we walked around Bath and learned about various sights, such as beautiful Pulteney Bridge, which was constructed in the late 18th century by a man named Robert Adam (1728 – 1792). Adam claimed to have been inspired by the Ponte Vecchio of Florence, which is in fact visible, but you have to look closely.
We passed different sights and learned about the guidlines of Palladian architecture. An architectural style that aims for the greatest possible harmony in appearance. An example of it can be found in The Circus, one of Baths most prominent buildings. It is an arrangement of three circular segments, each of the same length and hight, with the classical order of columns – Doric, Ionic, Corinthian – separating the different tiers thus paying homage to the ideals of the past. The fact, by the way, that Bath presents itself as such a harmonious architectural ensemble is mostly owing to the efforts of two men: John Wood the Elder (1704 – 1754) and his son John Wood the Younger (1728 – 1782).
Another impressive witness of their endeavors is a structure just a few steps to the west of The Circus, it is called Royal Crescent. Again a building shaped in the form of a circular segment, it towers most impressively on an elevation, with its front lawn elegantly flowing into the city below. No wonder it is, as The Circus, one of the most prestigious addresses in bath. Our well informed guide didn’t forget to point out a curious garden design, which is part of the Royal Crescent’s front lawn. A so-called Ha-ha. Basically a type of ditch across the middle of the lawn, acting as a sort of sunken fence, it can only be seen when looking uphill towards the building. Facing away from the building, viewing the city below, it remains hidden and can be quite treacherous when walking the lawn in this direction. Falling into the ditch, while peacefully pacing along the lawn, might result in the exclamation which gave the construction its name: Ha-ha! I suppose that is the price wealthy people are more than willing to pay in order to not have a hideous fence disturb a beautiful view.
On we went down the Gravel Walk, a path that plays a most significant part in Austen’s Persuasion, which I will not elaborate on – just read the book, it is worth it in any case. We viewed an example of a Georgian garden, which is open to the public, then passed the historic baths of the city and after two hours found ourselves at the end of our tour, equipped with first rate knowledge such a glimpse on Bath could afford, forever grateful to our expert guide!
The first evening in Bath was spent on yet another walking tour. Quite different though as the first one: I took part in a comedy walk called Bizarre Bath. Nothing that can adequately be described in words, but it successfully served the purpose of providing a fun distraction from the usual touristy undertakings.
My second day in Bath was spent with leisurly walks through the town. In case I haven’t mentioned it before, Bath is certainly one of the most beautiful cities I have seen during my trip through southern England, since 1984 it carries the title „UNESCO World Heritage Site“. The first stop on my places-to-see list of that day, was called Jane Austen Centre. With her being one of my favorite authors, I had to go see this place, even though I was quite doubtful to begin with. If only I had listened to my scepticism, for by entering the Jane Austen Centre I entered into a purgatory of kitsch! Kept in hues of mauve, lavender and rose, it was the embodiment of a romance inferno that contained everything the so inclined woman would be looking for: from guidebooks on how to find your own Mr. Darcy, to advice for well behaved young ladies, all the way to david-hamiltonesk photographs of melancholic Colin Firth (it is a truth universally aknowledged that desperate women will spend a fortune in the self-help section of a bookstore…).
After less than 10 minutes I fled the dreadful place – barely being able to ascertain that the one and only thing I was interested in (the Jane Austen…guess what…walking tours) wouldn’t be available for me, for I would already be on my way to the next stop on my intinerary – and found myself standing outside waiting for the mists of lavender and rose to clear, horrified that a brilliant writer and (I can’t say it enough) one of the few women in literature, who rightfully went down in history as an equal to the male authors of her time, was being reduced to nothing more than a corny romance writer.
But, thanks to the soothing influence of Baths honey-colored limestone buildings, I was soon in good spirits again and decided to take a bath in Bath’s new bath (sorry, but this was just too tempting). It’s called Thermae Bath Spa, opened in 2006 and the centrally located building beautifully combines traditional and modern architecture most spectacularly, all the way to a roof-top pool which lets you bathe in warm water while enjoying the view over historic Bath. The pleasure is not cheap, but well worth it. You’ll find your roof-top pool as well as one on the lower levels of the building, there are steam baths and much more. I was pleased with most of the experience, however one big downside was the lack of resting areas. Simple rooms with comfortable chairs to relax after the steam bath or a swim? Nowhere to be found, except for on the terrace (which is a bad place to relax if it’s cold outside), or near the pool in the basement, which is quite a walk from the roof-top pool or the steam rooms (the elevators take forever!). Neither would I recommend one of the packages that include a meal in the restaurant. Firstly, because the restaurant isn’t all that recommendable (the continous harp music was just a tad bit too much relaxation; the food is ok) and secondly, because the time you spend eating is subtracted from the time you spend bathing, which makes the entire stay a little bit hectic. Nevertheless, if you have time and like spas, it’s worth a visit.
Day number three again was spent with some quiet walking around town. I visited the Abbey, which is another exquisite example of gothic architecture, afterwards the Roman Baths. The latter are what gave the city its name, for it was the Romans who discovered the hot springs during the time they occupied England. Around 70 BC they started constructing a center of religious and physical worship. A temple for protective goddess Sulis Minerva and a spa that would quite match some of todays health farms. After abandoning Bath and England in the 5th century AD, the baths were left to decay, bathing culture didn’t become popular again until the 18th century when the healing powers of the hot springs were rediscovered and the English upper-class flocked to Bath in order to find cures for their ailments as well as a considerable amount of entertainment.
Today the remains of the Roman baths can be visited and are well worth the 11 Pound entry fee, if you heed just one piece of advice from me (read my entry on Salisbury and Stonehenge for backup evidence): Please stay away from the audioguide! An accumulation of strange sound effects (when mentioning that the Romans built something, you can hear hammering in the background….), ludicrous efforts to establish emotional rapport with the Romans (by adding a soundpiece of a wailing mother lamenting her child’s death by reciting the inscription of the tombstone on display!), and the addition of comments from a renowned writer, who ventures his self-righteous views on the adequateness of Roman religious practice (he can’t understand why the Romans were so smart and yet chose to sacrifice animals on their altars…) and is puzzled by the fact that the face of goddess Sulis Minerva seems so unattractive, while the sculptures of Roman men make them all look like nothing but jolly fellows one would just love to go for a pint of beer with….). I shall abstain from further commentary, let’s just repeat one more time: Stay away from the audioguides!
And so I found myself quite at the end of my stay in Bath. One last evening, spent in a pleasant pub called The Raven, a quiet night in my hotel and off I was the next morning – finally headed for the place I actually intended to spend most of my vacation at: the coast, the sea!
Next stop: Lyme Regis
Useful Information:
From London take the train or the bus. The train is much faster, but more expensive (round-trip from around 20 Pounds when you book early), the bus takes twice as long, but round trip tickets can be bought at bargain prices starting at 10 Pounds.
All necessary information about Bath, its sights and potential accommodation can be found on Bath’s official website, further information also on Wikipedia. I stayed at a guesthouse called Annabelle’s, which is centrally located, clean, hospitable and has great rates (breakfast included), but might not be as charming as a true B&B. Be advised to book ahead of time, especially when visiting on a weekend, Bath is a very popular city!
Bizarre Bath: A fun alternative to conventional tourist activities.
Roman Baths: Entry fee for adults currently 11 Pounds.
Thermae Bath Spa: Great way to relax and enjoy a terrific view of historic Bath. Different packages available.
Food: Great pub food can be found at the Coeur de Lion and The Raven, the latter specializes in pies – I’ve witnessed a local guest ordering another serving of an already quite enormous portion of pie. Not having eaten there myself (apart from some chips aka fries), I take that as enough evidence for the food being great!
Mayor’s Guides: More information on the excellent service provided by the Bath Mayoralty, they have their own website as well, tours are at 10.30 am and 2 pm from Sunday to Friday, as well as on Saturday at 10.30 am, the meeting point is in front of the Pump Room, no reservation necessary.
Jane Austen Centre: Whoever wants to see it, enter at your own risk and don’t say I didn’t warn you. The Jane Austen Walks may be quite interesting, during off-season they are held on the weekends only, in summer additional tours are added on Friday and Saturday.
Susanne, 2 August 2009
Next stop on my trip was Salisbury. I do admit that the only reason I went to Salisbury was the fact that two of the places I wanted to see were close by. Number one being Stonehenge, which is only about 8 miles north of Salisbury, number two being Bath which is about 38 miles to the north west and which was included in my itinerary as a must-see, mainly because of my admiration for the writings of Jane Austen. Thus Salisbury was a perfect stop-over, even more so, because it turned out to be yet another beautiful town, that I unhesitatingly recommend for a visit, regardless whether you like Stonehenge or Bath.
So, after a little more than two hours, the train from Brighton stopped at Salisbury and the lovely lady from the tourist information, which keeps a tiny outpost right at the trainstation, didn’t take very long to get me booked in a new Bed & Breakfast close to the town center. Not only that, she also made sure, that I would be put up in one that satisfied my need for a wireless web connection. In this respect I have to admit that among all the positive stereotypes one attributes the English with, the one that holds them to be the politest people on this planet, certainly holds much truth – on my entire trip I didn’t have one unpleasant encounter, in every single instance I was treated with a most charming friendliness. As for some of the quirkier clichés…yes it’s true, no matter how cold, the English will still run around in shorts, T-shirts or skimpy dresses. Admirable!
After a 10 minute walk from the station I found myself in front of 50 Trinity Street, the B&B of Ms. Stephanie Paul, which would be my home for the next two nights – and a home it was. Stevie, which is how Ms. Paul introduced herself, provided an extremely pleasant accommodation. Among other things, it was furnished with a table, that was armed with all necessary ingredients to observe the traditional English tea-time and a perfectly functioning (free) wifi access.
The first excursion took me to Stonehenge. Special buses leave Salisbury every 30 minutes, in addition they also stop at the site of Salisbury’s earliest settlement, which is called Old Sarum. I have to say that the reason I was interested in Stonehenge is partly owing to the fact that I have a certain propensity to myths and legends. Not because I feel that something supernatural hovers over these places, but because all the stories that surround certain monuments or people, are what I consider early forms of literature. That’s why I believe the knowledge of the myths that have shaped England, such as the legend of King Arthur, is essential for understanding literary developments in the country itself.
So, yes, when visiting Stonehenge, there is a certain aura to the monument, but only insofar as it admirably represents the technical skills of mankind, being able to erect these stones without the means and tools that one would think were neccessary to do so. And this is why I would like to give out just one piece of advice to anyone who intends to visit Stonehenge: Stay away from the audioguides! I am by nature sceptical of audioguides and I usually never take one. At Stonehenge they were included in the entry-fee, which made me make the mistake of grabbing one. If you would like the condensed version of the explanations offered on this device, three words suffice: Why, oh why?! For anyone interested in more detail, here’s a list of the most important words heard throughout the tour: „Possibly, potentially, maybe, is not certain, cannot be proven scientifically, perhaps, we don’t know, most likely, but not sure etc. etc.“ The only one sentence in the entire litany, which by the way also included horribly stupid soundbites (yes, there were „druidic chants“ and „mystical music“ in between the spoken passages…) was the final quote. A passage of Thomas Hardy’s „Tess of the d’Urbervilles“. Excellent book, great writer, a pity to be thrown into a silly audioguide.
Nevertheless, Stonehenge is worth seeing, and if you don’t care to walk around the stones, want to save the entrance fee and are in possession of a car – just take the local A303 or A344, stop at the side of the road and you will have a great view of the monument.
On the way back to Salisbury I found that the inner circle of Old Sarum was already closed to visitors (if you’re very interested to see the settlement, check for the opening hours, to make sure you don’t miss it), those parts of Old Sarum where the remains of the first cathedral of Salisbury can be seen, were open to the public after closing time. A walk around the structure is well worth it no matter if the inner circle is closed or not.
The next day in Salisbury was dedicated to the town and even more so to the Cathedral. Another beautifully constructed gothic church, which was erected in 1220 and which boasts England’s tallest spire (404ft). The medieval megalomania turned out to be almost catastrophic for the church. It was built as a later addition to the church and the spire proved to be too heavy for the construction. The whole building thus had to be fortified with buttresses, arches and iron ties. To this day the spire is slightly leaning, if the windspeed passes a certain limit the entire church gets closed off. Another interesting sight in Salisbury Cathedral is the Magna Charta. One of only four remaining copies can be admired. The document which was signed in 1215 is an inspiring witness of legal history, for the first time containing clauses that entitle free citizens to something like a presumption of innocence and the right to protect them from unlawful imprisonment (habeas corpus).
Worth mentioning also is the extremely helpful service of guides at Salisbury Cathedral. These volunteers, most of them senior citizens, proved to have an exeptional knowledge of historical facts and never seemed to get tired of answering questions or providing information. They did so in a way that was always entertaining and informative, and thankfully they never forgot to add a few anecdotes or samples of greatly appreciated British humor. This system of senior citizens as tourist guides proved to be working very well in all the other places I visited along my trip, every single guide I subsequently toured sights with turned out to possess an above average knowledge of historical facts, was generally very charming and even when groups were small would tour the respective sight for up to two hours. All this of course free of charge, or included in the general entrance fee – I still am, moderatly speaking, very much impressed.
The rest of my stay in Salisbury was spent wandering the town, which, considering English towns in general, was usually delightful as there always seemed to be some pleasant river nearby that invited you to stroll along its banks or provided beautifully restored town centers, that never ceased to be interesting. That way I found out that Nobel Prize winner William Golding resided as a school master in Salisbury and even wrote a book about the cathedral’s spire – fittingly titled „The Spire“, and I discovered a lovely pub called „The Wig and Quill“, which serves excellent food, local ales and for colder days offers a cozy fireplace. Definitely one of the best ways to end a long day of sightseeing – a pint of ale, a huge serving of fish&chips and then lean back and relax.
Next stop: Bath
Helpful Information:
To get to Salibury from London, take either train or bus, the train being considerably faster (about 90 min), the bus being the cheaper means of transportation (rountrip available for as low as 10 Pounds).
Additional Information on Salisbury, its sights and nearby attractions can be found on Wikipedia, as well as on Salisbury’s official website. There you will also find information on accommodation, personally, I can highly recommend Ms. Paul’s B&B, which is centrally located, offers every comfort at a reasonable price and includes free wifi access.
Bustours to Stonehenge and Old Sarum depart from Salisbury every 30 minutes, more information can be found here.
Susanne, 21 July 2009
