Summer 2012 - Day 8

Alternate title: How my mother ruined Stonehenge for me

I got up early enough today, for my 8:10 pickup outside the McDonald's on Baker street. I woke my Australian roommate, and when she said "have a nice day" as she left for the showers, I realized that it was time to go, so I packed up things and went downstairs. The Hostel worker told me to take the Bakerloo line, and I did. But I could not see a McDonalds on Baker, so I wandered down the street and asked another clerk to point me in the right direction, which he did.

I got breakfast at McDonalds, but coffee at Costa, next door, so as to spread my money around. After eating my breakfast, I was happy to feel my irrational anger fade away, and I no longer just hated anyone who was simply walking sort-of near me. I waited for the Anderson Tours bus, and waited, and then it was 8:10, and I still waited. I think the bus arrived at like 8:15, and I restrained myself from yelling "YOU'RE LATE!" in my most obnoxious [my surname] voice. I got on the bus, and we were off to pick up more people. We were 10 minutes early to the next stop, and the other people were not there, even though the documents with the booking said "arrive 10 minutes early". I had arrived like a bajillion minutes early, myself - ok, more like 20, but it felt like a long time - but wasn't terribly concerned.

The other people on the bus had, apparently, asked if we were stopping anywhere for breakfast and coffee, and the tour guide allowed them to get out and go to a store nearby, but to much annoyance. She came back and asked me if I needed to go get breakfast, and when I told her that I already had breakfast. This earned me the moniker, that day, of "The Prepared One". Eventually, we were off to get someone else, and I thought we would be able to stop so I could get water (I wasn't THAT prepared, I guess), but we didn't.

Then we were off, finally, to Stonehenge. I began taking video of what I saw outside the bus as we neared the ruins, and all I could see was cows and sheep. Then I perchanced to look to the other side of the bus, and there it was! A big circle of rocks, some piled on each other, and a big swarm of humans with their visual recording devices.

We got off the bus and were told that we had an hour, which is really all you need. I accidentally walked right by the audio tours pick-up station (again, an overestimation of my ability to know what I'm supposed to do and underestimation of my tendency to wander in any random direction), but went back and alerted the staff that they "may need better signage," cuz I walked right by.

I went back to the henge, which, in modern archaeological terms means "circle of ruins or something", and in Ye Oldee English means "hanging". I listened to some parts of the audio tour, but I began to get annoyed with assumptions that thousands of ancient peoples worked really, really hard to dig some pretty shallow (IMO) ditches, and prop up a bunch of stones. I stopped listening to the audio tour, went far away from the other people, and made a video of the ruins with my cynical commentary over it. Then I went up to the ruins and made a proper, non-cynical video. I then listened to audio tour number 5, which prompted a second, and possibly funnier cynical video, wherein I impersonate the woman on the audio tour.

My main point, with these cynical videos, was that when you plan which "wonders of the world" or ruins to see, make Stonehenge number 1, and go to Machu Picu MUCH LATER. You will be a lot more impressed with Stonehenge as a result. I mean, I know that it is like 5000 years old, and the first, lasting achievement of people from the British Isles, or something like that, but I was reminded of the ruins of the old pig barn across from the cow barn at my grandparents' farm.

But I saw it, and got some great photos - it is, nevertheless, a very photogenic old ruin - and picked up my souvenirs. Then I got some food, and stopped at the stand outside the parking lot, by my bus, where a woman was selling strawberries, cherries, and raspberries. I was happy to share my own family history of selling fruits, and hopefully, she remembered the website name and can find us. I relayed tales of picking raspberries as a [partially terrified] child, and, when she asked if that meant that I was sick of them now, I told her that no, the taste reminded me of home, and the better memories of the farm. I got some raspberries, and a photo of the stand, and our bus left.

We were off to Bath, or Bah-th, as the English say. We passed by the biggest pig farm in the UK, and I took some video footage and noted that the English countryside looked like Wisconsin, because it does. Then I entertained myself by indulging my narcissism and watching my own videos.

The Roman Baths were pretty cool.

On top of the Roman Baths.

The Abbey as seen from the top of the Roman Baths.

A fuse blew while I was trying to buy my souvenirs and tribute for my host in Edinburgh. This was the second time, in the UK and during my entire trip, that I was present when someone plugged something in, and a fuse blew. Then I went to the Bath Abbey and rested in the pews, admiring the handiwork of medieval architects, and wrote some commentary on the flyer that the clergy gave me when I entered. I walked around the church, taking care to not step on any of the engraved markers on the floor, so that I did not contribute to their deterioration. I lamented my inability to buy anything at the gift shop because I didn't have luggage space and I didn't want to really give the church any more money. I had given them slightly more than the suggested donation to enter the abbey, but I do appreciate that they take care of the place, and completely recognize their need for money in order to do that.

After the Abbey, I considered going to see the Jane Austin Experience, even though I only know the Wishbone versions of Jane Austin novels, and have the distinct feeling that I would hate reading them - I just really like playing pretend, and like people that like it too. However, my concern that I would get completely lost in Bath trumped any desire to go hang out with people in costumes. Instead, I decided to sit in the square between the Abbey and the Baths and write post cards to my parents. I also ate the sandwich that I had purchased at Stonehenge, and it was great.

After that, my next goal was to find a post box, so that the post cards to my parents had Bath postmarks on them. The women that I sat next to in the square were not able to give me directions to a post box that I could remember, so I went to some information stand/tourism shop. They told me that the post box was on the other side of the Roman Baths. I left the shop and headed in that direction, but when I got there, I could not see a red post box, so I wandered a little bit, then asked the security guard at the exit from the Roman Baths gift shop if he knew where the post box was. He was able to point it out to me, so I walked over to it, dropped my post cards in, and felt utterly triumphant.

At this point, it was like 3pm, and I had one more hour in Bath, but wanted to make sure that I did not get lost. I walked around the Abbey a little bit and got a few photos.

I also came across a Christmas store, and went in to look at the sparkly, Christmasy things for a little while. After finding the pick-up spot, and standing around, looking at things for a bit, I saw a Moroccan restaurant and decided to stop there for some hummus and pita bread. It was very delicious, and just the right amount and kind of food for that time of day. I went to their restrooms just before 4, paid my bill, and went to the bus. The tour guide asked me if I had used the bathrooms, and when I said yes, she said "oh, you're the prepared one, I shouldn't have had to ask". I did some writing on the bus until we started to move, but eventually decided to listen to Morrissey and Smiths songs for the rest of the trip.

There was terrible traffic getting into London, apparently, and I was prepared to get off the bus at Earl's Station, or Court, or whatever. I also chatted with the tour guide, who told me about a London magazine for the New Zealander community, called TNT. They had meet-ups in London, it seems. I also did get a photo of the painted sign seen below (or not yet pictured), and was glad that they underlined the word 'not', because I totally would have littered without that addition.

At the station, I found my way to the appropriate train, the Piccadilly line, to Cockfosters. However, instead of getting off at Green Park, to get the Victoria line to Oxford Circus, I decided to get off at Leichester Square or Circus, because the tour guide said that it was the "red carpet" area of London. There were many fancily dressed ladies that got off at that stop too, and I noticed that it was also near Chinatown. After getting caught in a human traffic jam while getting out of the station, I discovered that I still had no idea where I was and where Chinatown was. Luckily, there are maps on the street corners, so I was able to find my way to Chinatown.

I found a restaurant, where they seated me very quickly. For some reason, every time that I go to a Chinese restaurant or order take out, I read the menu like it is the first time I've ever seen a Chinese Restaurant Menu. This is mainly because, in my experience, Chinese food items can vary from restaurant to restaurant, and will often include unlisted ingredients that I might hate. I settled on pork dumplings and sweet and sour pork, since that was predictable. They served me pretty quickly, but then let me sit at the table and write for a long time before I requested the bill. I paid, left, and began the walk back to the hostel. People were out at bars, since it was Friday night, and I thought about whether or not I wanted to be with them. I decided that no, I did not want to be at a bar, because I had been out all day, didn't like drinking, and was exhausted.

Getting back to my hostel, and preparing for the next day were the ends to Day 8.