Cities and Walls

I said goodbye to the lake last night as I read a little from The Amber Spyglass. That part of England is my England. We're in a city again, and I already miss the hills. Our hostel (which is nice but very basic) is on the same street as the Pizza Hut and Burger King. London will probably be more attractive since we're staying in a local college, but I still want to make that sidetrip to Wales if at all possible. The city I'll be visiting is on the Irish Sea and I think it will be a nice goodbye to this wonderful island. We'll see.

Today we went to class, ate our last meal in Ambleside at the classroom tables, and then got on a bus for Hadrian's Wall. The trip was uneventful but the views were spectacular. I can't quite do justice to what we saw, sitting in that bus with large windows, looking down and seeing that we were on the edge of a cliff that dove down into a rocky valley dotted with sheep. It was absolutely breathtaking. Some of the articles we read before we got here suggested that the England described in a lot of popular novels no longer exists. It does in the Lake District. It absolutely does.

We ended up at a Roman Military Museum. The Latin teacher in me came out immediately. It was a little cheesy and I definitely have been to better exhibits, but I still had fun looking at all the Roman artifacts and learning more about Hadrian's Wall itself.

Then we went to the wall and it was a great experience in a different way than I had planned. What was fun was being on there with my friends and taking silly photos and thinking about how imposing it used to be. Unfortunately, as is the case with most Roman ruins, there isn't much left but we had a great moment, sitting on the edge, looking out on the hills and thinking about the divide between the civilized world and the barbarian one. On a side note, there were some crazy sheep on the walk up. They kept making these death rattle noises. Very creepy.

Afterwards, we drove into Newcastle and got settled into our new digs. The hostel has free wi-fi....yay! However our room has two bunk beds and a fun house mirror (my legs have never been so tall!). And no more full English breakfasts. I'm back to peanut butter bread and apples. However, it will probably be a good thing for my heart because I've eaten a lot of hash browns these past two weeks.

Most of us went to an Irish pub tonight (well, a place that called itself an Irish pub) and had dinner. I went for something somewhat authentic--a chicken and mushroom crock pot dish that was super awesome. All my favorite things--chicken, mushrooms, mashed potatoes and cheese. Again, may need to improve the food intake soon.

Now we're relaxing and this old French man keeps trying to talk to us and we don't understand a thing he is saying. I think we got across that we're students studying literature, but I'm not sure. I will probably try to get some writing done tonight. I'm doing well with my critical class, but the creative juices are not flowing. We are traveling so much and have yet to find a place where we can be on a computer and snuggle down. Unfortunately I am not a handwritten manuscript kind of gal so the computer is a necessary tool in all extensive writing exercises. I even use it in class for our small exercises. I know London will provide regular library access and hopefully some comfy chairs and then all my problems will be solved. In the meantime, I'll try to get a page or two written tonight and maybe I'll feel like I've accomplished something.

The Girls on the Wall

Footsteps of the Past

One of the hardest concepts to absorb during this trip is that a lot of the places we have visited were in habited by the authors we love. Our time in the Lake District has certainly exemplified that since we have visited the Brontes, William Wordsworth, Beatrix Potter, and Arthur Ransome’s old stomping grounds. Visiting the homes of the first three listed there was especially intriguing. Admittedly you are never quite walking the same floors or the same paths as them since the floors have been refurbished over time and the ground has certainly eroded and changed over time. But you can’t help but go numb when you hear the words, “Wordsworth and Ralph Waldo Emerson walked here.”

I certainly don’t feel that the creative abilities of these authors have soaked into my skin as I have looked at their letters, run my fingers over their furniture or sat in their chairs. But it is amazing how much work has gone into preserving their heritages, and the diverse range of individuals who make pilgrimages to their homes. I think it truly puts into perspective how powerful beautiful writing can be and the impact it can have on the world for generations to come.

The Lake District has also been the intermission in our trip between the cities that bookend our studies. We did our time in Oxford and we will be in London on Saturday and spend the last two weeks there. There are definitely some perks to returning to the city—regular wi-fi access, individual rooms, easier access to grocery stores. But I think I will quickly begin to wish I was back here where you are surrounded by beautiful hills, gorgeous lakes, and you are serenaded to sleep by the quiet baaing of the sheep outside your window.

Tomorrow we will retrace the boundaries of the Roman Empire and go visit Hadrian’s Wall. As a soon to be full-time English teacher, there is some irony that this was the year I went back to Rome, and now will see Emperor Hadrian’s Wall for the first time.

A quick look at the sites from open two-story buses and walks along the hills:

Getting My Sea Legs

When I was a pre-teen, I went to sailing camp. We had several within an hour’s drive of New Bern, and I had asked if I could go away to sleep-away camp since so many of my friends did something similar each summer. So I went to Camp Don Lee, the more affordable of the two camps near my house. The fact that it was a sailing camp was by no means the draw. I just wanted to experience that archetypal adventure of so many people my age.

What followed was a testament to my awkward adolescence. I didn’t mesh with the cool kids because, well, I usually don’t. I spent many hours dreading the high dive (I did eventually overcome this fear). I tipped over a canoe, partly because of my own ineptness and partly because I hated the girl who was in the boat with me. And, finally, I rammed my little sail boat into a local yacht and ripped my sail. I was Camp Don Lee’s worst nightmare.

So today I came full circle when I accompanied an experienced sailor and Robin on a trip around Lake Windermere in Ambleside, England. Robin really wanted to do it because she is presenting on Swallows and Amazons later this week and thought it would be good research (most of the sailing terms in the book went over all our heads). I just wanted to get in a boat since we have a lake so conveniently close.

I actually had a lot of fun. Our instructor, Gary, was one of those philosopher boat men that you think only exist in Hemingway stories. He called me “Michele, ma belle” after the Beatles song and described me as “practical” (he nailed that one, for sure). He was extremely sarcastic and occasionally broke off into random tangents about life and finding one’s passion. I feel privileged to have met him because I definitely think there was a little of my dad in him.

The sailing itself went well too. I took to the tiller pretty well and was starting to anticipate the wind by the time we neared the dock. We also visited the boat house of an old castle along the shore that a rich doctor had built for himself and his new wife in the late 1800s. According to Gary, the man’s new wife decided (on their wedding night when she got her “present”) that she didn’t like it, so they never lived in it. The English call such projects “folly.” That is not an unfamiliar word to Americans, but the English use it quite often to describe frivolous and expensive projects that the rich do for impractical reasons.

I loved being on the water in a non-motorized boat. There were no sounds in our direct vicinity except for the murmur of the wind against the sail and the occasional splash as our boat glided across the water. I’m not going to run out and get my captain’s license tomorrow but I can add sailing to the list of outdoor activities that I enjoy.

I know I’m a different person than I was at Camp Don Lee so many years ago. I have the benefits of experience, the scars from various tragedies, the laugh lines from happy times, and the increased brain function that comes from trying to decipher Chip Sullivan’s feelings toward your written work. I have, in short, grown up. Not so much that I can’t discuss the merits of the Disney film Emperor’s New Groove with a favorite student, but I am certainly an adult. There are times, like today, when I am completely content with the adult that I have become.

Some Assorted Pictures

Our wonderful sailboat.

Sunset on the hills of Haworth, England.

Bad photography thanks to "back woods" English ladies.

Outside of Haworth Hostel.

The evil ride at Cadbury World. Scary stuff.

My bed (lower one) at the Oxford Hostel.

The stairs (so many stairs!) at the Oxford Hostel.

A dog that smiles in Haworth, England.

The Bronte Parsonage, almost as it was....

The hostel stairs in Haworth, England.

The boat dock of a rather young castle in Ambleside, England.

The yachts lining a dock in Ambleside, England.

A pretty bridge at the Oxford Botanical Gardens.

Me and the man himself, Philip Pullman.

English Countryside (Finally)

When one thinks of England, one usually channels Jane Austen movies. Lots of grass-covered hills, wind-swept moors, and ancient stone buildings with nothing around them for miles. I finally found that part of England yesterday. We drove away from Oxford and suddenly there were stone walls for miles, perfectly square fields and sheep grazing in the grass.

Ahhh....

We went to Sarehole Mill first where Tolkien grew up. He didn't have a very easy childhood. His father died in S. Africa (where he was born) when he was taking a trip to England, and his mother also died from complications with diabetes when he was still quite young. He lived with an unhappy aunt, in various boarding homes under a certain priest's guardianship, and finally on his own in Oxford. Despite the hardship, Tolkien had quite the playground to enjoy as a child and the thick forests, green bogs, fierce fords, and tall buildings that surrounded his early home may certainly have played a part in his later works. There was even a pair of tall towers in town that may have influenced him when he was writing a certain trilogy....

However, it's all conjecture, and I, nor the tour guide, can really say for certain what influenced him and what didn't, but he grew up in an area that was certainly reminiscent of the Middle Earth he created in his novels.

We then traveled to Birmingham where we visited the Cadbury Chocolate Factory. Free chocolate. Good. Really lame rides through psycho chocolate-man town. Not so good. We enjoyed the historical portions but some of it was down-right creepy. And not Gene Wilder creepy because that would have been OK. Unfortunately you don't really get to see much of the manufactoring first hand, and I felt really sorry for the factory workers who have to watch people walk past them all day. Then the Cadabra ride. Oh man. My fellow riders and I were supposed to make funny faces when they did the automatic picture at the end. However, I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO DID IT. The picture that resulted is one of the most frightening images of me I have encountered, and I spent the next fifteen minutes bent over laughing. I look like a troll. I can't even post it on here because if someone who didn't like me got their hands on it, I would probably see it again...perhaps in a less flattering setting. Sorry, folks. If you want to see it, I might have to get you to sign a waver or something.

We then took a really long bus ride to Haworth. However, that's when we really got to see the hills of England. Gorgeous! If I could live in England, I would definitely want to live near Haworth. Our hostel was the best yet; it looked like an ancient boarding house with a huge, grand staircase, stained glass windows everywhere, and a English charm that made us swoon. Robin and I took a really long walk up one of the adjacent hills and we met two lovely English women. We tried to get them to take a picture of us but they were not familiar with digital cameras and they had the hardest time figuring out how to use mine. One woman finally got a picture, but she did it just as Robin was smacking her forehead in amusement (it was a great day for pictures). The other woman took over and took a picture with my right side cut off. Failed effort but a great story.

We had a late night pizza with our main professor, Julie, and talked about marriage and literature and England. It was nice and apparently entertaining because a fellow guest was in the room and commented on how "interesting" our conversation was as he was going to bed. At least he was honest about listening in. I guess.

In the morning we went to Haworth proper and saw the Bronte parsonage where the entire Bronte troop grew up. Sometimes I marvel at how one family can have so much talent. The Sedaris' are all really funny and peculiar. The Williams sisters dominate the tennis world. And the Brontes could all magically write amazing novels (or paint amazing pictures or both). Their story is a tragic one and it was interesting to walk the fields nearby, see the couch where Emily (of Wuthering Heights fame) died, and see the rooms where their famous works were created. The town itself should be renamed Bronteworth because almost every establishment is named after the family or the books (they apparently had a Jane Hair salon once upon a time). However, it was very picturesque and I would love to see it again some day.

Finally one more bus ride and now we're in Ambleside, England. To my left is Lake Windermere and a host of sailboats. It rained on and off today, but, no matter the weather, the sky was a beautiful mixture of blues and grays and greens. I can see why English people vacation here (including Philip Pullman). Tomorrow Robin and I will rent some sort of boat and paddle around during our first free day. In the meantime, I have to write something for class and continue reading for my paper. We may be traveling the countryside and enjoying ourselves immensely, but we are still doing quite a bit of work.

Tomorrow I'll just post pictures so you can get a better idea of what's going on. Our room is up a maze of stairwells and I left my camera upstairs. And that is where it will stay until tomorrow.

By the way, the weather finally broke and it's been extremely pleasant the past two days. I am one very lucky girl.

A Dream Come True

Today my favorite author answered all my questions. He told us about his work, what he likes to read, and what he thinks his books mean. He said many brilliant things, and I wish I could quote him because no one can put it like he can, but there are two things that I think are worth paraphrasing. He said that children can read anything if they like something about it. No matter how complicated His Dark Materials has become over time, he says that children will still read it because they love Lyra and that anything important to Lyra will naturally be important to them. He said that he would give a 10-year-old a quantum mechanics book if he thought he/she would have even the slightest interest in it. He also said that the most important thing we can do for children is read nursery rhymes to them. He said that sitting a child in one’s lap and reading those beautiful poems to them will help them love language long before they enter a classroom. By igniting that love in them at a young age, we will be that much closer to getting them to read once they are too big for our laps.

It was exactly what we all wanted. He was charming and intelligent and very generous in his responses. We got some insights into his world and sharing that beautiful tea room with him for two hours was the experience of a lifetime. Also, he brought his personal alethiometer. The one he had a jeweler make for him. We got to play with it.

We capped the evening with a trip to the Botanic Gardens where Lyra and Will would “meet” in their separate Oxfords once a year to remember their love for one another. Erin, Carly and I were walking around and we saw Tolkien’s favorite tree (which we noticed before we even knew what it was because it was just that cool).

We then passed by a bench and I made the comment that it was the perfect bench for the book because it was a little tucked away and looking out on a portion of a water garden. I even said, “I could see thinking about someone I love in a space like this.” We continued on our way and later realized that we couldn’t find the right bench. After consulting our maps, we realized it was the bench we had talked about earlier. Good choice, Mr. Pullman!

Overall, it was a great last day in Oxford. We had an amazing time here and saw sights related to Wind in the Willows, Harry Potter, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and His Dark Materials. We spoke to an inspiring modern author, drank tea on the grass next to a world famous Regatta, and saw Tolkien’s personal illustrations for The Hobbit. If my trip was ending tomorrow, I would be satisfied.

Tomorrow we go to Haworth and will see some Tolkien sites. Then we’ll go to the Cadbury Chocolate Factory and channel Roald Dahl for a few hours. We’ll be traveling by bus and lugging our lovely luggage around with us (which for me has grown slightly), but we’re all ready for a change of scenery. And weather (fingers crossed).

Sculling Along the River

Tonight I sat by the Thames and read from The Subtle Knife. I think it’s a fitting way to spend the evening before I meet the man himself—Philip Pullman. All of my classmates are excited to meet him, and I’m sure I’m not that much more excited than they are, but I may be a little. After all, I have been a fan of Pullman’s since I first read The Golden Compass. He was the first modern writer to really pull me in, and we share a lot of the same philosophies, which makes the connection that much stronger.

I’ll hopefully pull (ha, ha) myself together tomorrow and sound reasonable in my questioning. We’ll see….

As for today, we started with a wonderful lecture by Peter Hunt (British children’s lit. guru) on Alice and Wind in the Willows. He is one of those darling British men who mumbles under his breath and spouts brilliance every five seconds. It was a great experience, and he accompanied us on the next phase of our journey which was to travel to Henley on the Thames and experience our first Regatta.

Apparently, as a part of the British “seasons,” aristocrats travel to Henley at the beginning of July for a five-day regatta that features 4 and 8-person rowing teams from all over the world. The men wear their college blazers that can be all shades of the rainbow and some even have lovely vertical stripes. The women dress up and wear little flying things on their heads. We were a little out of our element and it was blazing hot, but we got through it and had tea in one of the tents. I did try the hot tea, with one sugar cube and some milk; I, unsurprisingly, did not like it. I did also have some tea sandwiches and my first scone. Was not expecting it to be like a biscuit. However, the cream and fruit inside were much better than a Bo’ Berry. I also tried Pimms which is a famous English beverage that tastes like orange soda.

We made it through tea and ventured inside a rare bookstore which had a 1st edition of The Hobbit for a mere 45,000 pounds (around $75,000). We also saw a 1st edition of Peter and Wendy and some original artwork from The Wind in the Willows. It was a neat surprise.

Then we caught the train, and I went for my little reading excursion. The Thames portions near my hostel are interesting. There is graffiti all along the walls of the townhomes on the river but the bank is covered in wildflowers. The bench I sat on was surrounded by trash and cigarette remains, but in front of me were two adult swans, two young swans, and a dozen ducks of various colorings. I did a little bird watching and saw a duck eat out of an elderly man’s hand on the bench next to me. All that nature and all that destruction in one small place. That is Oxford in a nutshell. There is so much beauty here but so much commercialization. You have to learn to watch the swans and ignore the trash.