I should state here that I am allergic to sugar in order to give some context about the following entry. So, here it is: I’m allergic to sugar, all kinds of delicious, glorious, sweet, velvety, nerve reducing, calming and comforting sugar, including fruit sugar.
That out of the way, let’s begin, shall we?
We had to transfer trains at Bristol Temple Meads for our 10-minute train ride to Bath Spa. The Bristol Temple Meads train station is relatively big, bigger than I assumed it to be based on the size of the town shown on the map. Teaches me once again never to assume. Since the Bath Spa stop is only the first of many on that particular line, it would not be listed on the departure board. For example, the line begins at Bristol Temple Meads and ends at London Paddington, that’s what would be listed along with the departure time and platform number. Well, how is one to know which train to catch, if multiple trains leave at the same time as the train showing on our ticket?
I knew we had about 20 minutes to catch the train, nevertheless my mom asks a station attendant in order to make sure. He told her we had 8 minutes until the train leaves from platform 9. In order to get to platform 9, we had to follow the signs downstairs towards the subway and then back up.
Confusing? You just wait: ignoring the signs directing us to the subway, we find our way up at platform 9. We had to be careful, though, because the platform might be long, but walking too far to the left led us to platform 10. So, we walked back the way we came and waited. Over all the noise in the station, constant service updates and announcements we almost missed the crucial info that the platform number has changed to number 5. An entire platform filled with people, moved as one unit to go back downstairs to get to the new platform, only to be squished like sardines on a three-coach train that stood idle in the station, because of delays.
The short train ride was a rather interesting one. A bunch of travellers didn’t bother looking for a seat, since they would all get off at Bath, so for the next 12-18 minutes we were nicely squished in the vestibule between two coaches, moving out of the way every 30 seconds to let someone pass. There was a young man, a university student, who started chatting with us. He was very polite and friendly and reminded me of a university acquaintance from 15 years ago. There was also a very nice young woman sharing the tiny space with us. She happened to like the look of the young man and was able to insert herself into the conversation expertly to gain his attention. I was impressed and had to stop myself from staring at them. All I could think was good for her for taking the initiative.
I was so happy to have finally arrived at our rented apartment in Bath, pulling my extremely heavy luggage up old streets that I wasn’t sure yet if I liked. I was hungry and exhausted, but also happy about our accommodations, we had a kitchen!!
I was surprised to see that everything closes here in Bath between 5-6pm (with the exception of a grocery store or two), not only on Sunday, the day we arrived, but also throughout the week. In need of finding a place to eat, we started walking through the historic section of the city and it was so beautiful to see it untouched by construction, remodelling and renovations since the days Jane Austen walked those cobblestone streets. I was mentally preparing myself for a stay of geek proportions.
We found a small cozy pub called “The Raven”, based on Edgar Allan Poe’s story. A two-story establishment with all the charm of a sit-down eating area upstairs and the rugged pub and ale feeling of the downstairs bar section. They specialise in making meat pies from scratch and it was the most delicious steak pie I have ever had (I still dream about it).
On our way back, we stopped at the nearest grocery store to pick up some breakfast foods and my mom was slightly freaked out by security personnel working at the store. It seemed kind of out of place, having security at a small grocery store in a rather smaller city, but I thought better to be safe than sorry.
Later that night I realized why security was needed when I heard the drunken pub visitors walking home, singing and shouting.
Returning to an apartment that felt more like home, made this part of the trip feel especially cozy and waking up that first morning to sunshine and birds singing had me so excited to start the day.
One thing I have noticed so far on this trip is that the seagulls are bigger than at home. Plus in between the wonderful chirping of the singing birds that slowly woke me up, there were also the extremely loud and creepy cackling noises of those seagulls. When I mean cackling, I mean cackling like an old hag of a women, one of those with a smoker’s voice and a few missing teeth.
The night before we decided to start watching the 1995 BBC production of “Pride and Prejudice” (the one with Colin Firth), which the next day would be renamed “Mr. Darcy”, because my mom developed a fancy for the character.
The reason for visiting Bath was, of course, to geek out and do research on my favourite classic literature author, Jane Austen. She lived in Bath for a period of 5 years, set two of her novels in Bath and it is here that one can visit the Jane Austen Centre. My brain couldn’t process any of it and I’m still trying to tell myself that I had the opportunity to see where and how Jane Austen lived.
In addition to the centre, which had a small talk about her life, an exhibition and some hands-on experience, and a gift store, there was also the Regency walk through Bath, which shows all the spots Jane had lived. A few of those buildings still exist to this day.
We got our tickets for the centre in the gift shop. Stepping into the house had me tingly all over with excitement, but the lady working the till gave off a strange energy that almost made me want to apologize for having inconvenienced her. During the hands-on experience, we had the opportunity to dress up in regency costumes and pose beside a mannequin resembling Mr. Darcy. Unfortunately, the same lady was working that section of the museum when we got there and once again I had this strange feeling creeping up the back of my neck that we should just leave. Such a weird experience.
Obviously, we had to have high tea at the centre, where I tried the Jane Austen tea blend, a blend of tea Jane herself would have drunk on a regular basis. More scones, more clotted cream and more jam was to be had, as well. The waitress who brought me my tea, wearing a blue regency dress, with short black hair and a very friendly face, smiled at me, hesitated for a moment and then paid me the sweetest compliment on my blue/purple hair. Even half-way around the world, my stylist’s work impresses people.
Dinner was again at “The Raven”, more meat pie and once snuggled up in bed, more “Mr. Darcy” was watched.
The next day was rather grey and windy, but we made the best of it. I love going to local grocery stores and discovering local treats and foods that I can’t get back home. We kind of filled up our shopping cart with tea and chocolate to send back home via the post. Which brings me to another experience I always enjoy having, that of using normal, every day services, such as sending a parcel from the local post office. I don’t want to admit how much I spent on sending a parcel back home, but the service provided was excellent and such a difference to post offices in Berlin. They took their time, were courteous and provided all the info we needed.
A bit peckish and slightly cold, we made our way through the city, looking for a place to have lunch and ended up in the Pump Room. For everyone, not familiar with Bath or Jane Austen’s stories, the Pump Room is where the pump is located that provides the famous Bath water. Based on Jane’s narrations one can also imagine this to be the water cooler area of the 1800’s, where people went to see and be seen and get the latest gossip. The water itself was awful. Imagine sucking on warm, salty rocks and that’s the taste of the famous Bath water. No wonder Jane didn’t believe in its healing powers.
So, the Pump Room now is a converted restaurant that serves lunch and tea until 4:30pm. My mom informed the waitress of her nut allergy, which prompted the manager to stop by and ensured her that an entire new tea menu would be prepared with all nut-free dishes. And it was delicious!
We made a quick stop at the Jane Austen Centre to take a photo with the world-famous greeter and to buy my mom a Mr. Darcy tea mug. At the cash register, the girl ringing me through also paid me a lovely compliment on my hair. Before I knew it we were in deep conversation about different hair colours and I showed her a photo of my hair before it began fading, kind of ignoring the growing number of customers in the small shop.
And before we knew it, we had to head back to the apartment, shower, have dinner and pack for our next destination.
Of course, we still had time to watch an episode of “Mr. Darcy”. While all snuggled up in bed, having some water and relaxing I noticed that I became very itchy mostly on my neck and back, and my forehead was covered in little bumps. I could barely keep from scratching. Cue: my sugar allergy finally kicking in from all the jam I had been enjoying. Worth it!!
The next morning was a bit hectic until we got to the train station and found out that our train was delayed by half an hour because a broken-down train was blocking the traffic.
It was a short 50-minute train ride through the beautiful English countryside with blue skies and warm temperatures promising to accompany us for the rest of the day.
