Coming Clean in Bath, England

The Bath Abbey

“Can you make some room,” yelled a man from the platform.

“Can we get through? We have seats!” screamed a frazzled traveler trying to bypass the compartment.

Another passenger surrendered and sat in the bathroom. I found a foot of empty space next to the train’s door. With my bag resting on my two feet I prayed we would be moving soon.

Rush hour on London’s commuter trains. I had, clearly, not thought-through my travel plans to Bath, England. It  was only supposed to take only an hour and a half. It – trip number nine out of ten from London for less than $100 – felt like five hours as a I grappled for an inch of space.

Where else have I been for less than $100 for my Rock Fever Column for The Royal Gazette? Good question. It started with a ticket for $65 (one-way) from Bermuda to London with my frequent flier miles. Make sure you get them! Next I hit Stockholm and Sigtuna in Sweden; Sachsenhausen and Berlin in Germany; Hampstead, Dover and Brighton in England.

Now, with number nine, it was time to come clean. I was heading to Bath. Silly me decided to try and go at 7 p.m. on a Friday night.

After extricating myself from the mass of bodies I found myself stranded on the streets of Bath. Luckily it is not a large town and I managed to find my Y.M.C.A. hostel after negotiating very drunk college students in about 20 minutes. The Y.M.C.A. might be easy to find, but it’s not exactly inviting so I plunked down my bag and hit the town.

Roman Baths

Some 2,000 years ago the Romans also arrived here. Rather than the Y.M.C.A.’s pathetic shower they decided to channel Bath’s hot sulfurous waters into elaborate pools. These really took-off in the 18th Century when England’s ladies and gents began coming here for the waters and enjoying the season in terraced houses! These iconic homes that line Bath’s streets were featured in the musings of Jane Austen who lived here briefly in the 1800’s. And of course what else do you do with really old, beautiful buildings? UNESCO makes them a World Heritage Site!

I believe the city more than earned the right; even at night. As I walked through the varied lanes and roads of Bath, the yellow street lights illuminated a city haunted by visions of 18 and 19th Century England from Austen’s books. This includes the 18th Century, Pulteney Bridge which crosses the River Avon and is filled with shops. If you have ever been to Florence and witnessed the Ponte Vecchio, then you’ve seen the inspiration for this gorgeous bridge. Walking along the river’s edge and listening to the falling water was soothing, to say the least, after my horrendous train ride.

Ahhh Bath, I think I could get used to you.

With my train stress washed down the river, it was time to relegate myself to my bed for a full-on assault the next morning. First I would have to try my hand at the breakfast. Ugh. the crumbs of bread and poor attempt at an English Breakfast ensured that next time I go to Bath I will save my pennies for one of the quaint Bed and Breakfasts I continually walked-by.

Fully famished, I decided I would have to visit, well where else? The Roman Baths! This complex built by….the Romans (see you’re getting this) are essentially as they left them. In 75 A.D. they channeled the waters into this complex that rivals the baths in rome (and I should know I have been there). Visitors, unfortunately, are no longer allowed to bath in the waters that are 116 degrees Fahrenheit. At least the modern complex has built a terrace for visitors to watch more than 240,000 gallons pump through each day before descending into the underground chambers that offer a historical guide to the baths. With a ticket that cost about £11 I was able to walk around wishing I could jump in, but it also offered me an entrance to the Fashion Museum. Well I mean after you bath you need to dress, right?

Exiting the baths (not Bath, you get it, right?) I was bombarded by the Bath Abbey. This cannot be missed. I

More Abbey

don’t mean go inside, though you should. I mean it is the centre of the town. Established in the 8th Century, the first English King, Edgar in 973 was crowned here. Through the years it has been built and then fallen until Elizabeth I ordered it restored. The Abbey has been the same ever since her meddling.

Around the Abbey and the Roman Baths is a mix of modern shops in old buildings. I thoroughly enjoyed getting lost with in the Upper Borough Walls, Union Streets and Barton Street among others filled with shops and little cafes opening onto the side walks. Bath is, among other things, a town built for luxury! Eat your fill in the famous restaurants that include English Chef Jamie Oliver’s Italian restaurant and then, if you’ve got it, bath in the actual complex for it – the Thermae Bath Spa. It will cost you though! £24 for two hours!

I did not have the cash for this luxury so I enjoyed a free walk up to the Circus. No, not Barnum and Bailey’s. Bath’s Circus is  comprised of three semicircular terraces of Regency houses surround a circular park. It was designed by architect John Wood the Elder, who built much of 18th century Bath. I tried to get my landscape photo and decided to use the rest of my Roman Baths’ ticket and head for some fashion.

Not much to note here. A very small museum, Bath’s Fashion Museum main focus is, of course, a whole spread on Princess Diana’s fashion through the years. At least I did not waste the rest of my £11 ticket!

Before I could wish Bath good-bye, there was one more museum I needed to visit. Jane Austen’s of course.

The Royal Crescent in Bath

This illustrative author was a resident in Bath between 1801 and 1806 and the city features heavily in Persuasion and Northanger Abbey. She ended-up hating Bath when her, her mom and sister fell on hard times here. Perhaps that is why the city devoted the sad little home on Gay Street as a museum to the artist. My guidebook had warned me, but I couldn’t miss one of my favourite writer’s museum! It was dull.

Oh well, I was almost done with my trip to Bath. I wandered through some of the green and stunning parks including the Royal Victoria Park in front of the Royal Crescent and meandered back on the train. Luckily Friday’s rush hour was over and I could comfortably ride back to England’s capital fully refreshed.

Refreshed and ready for next week’s column: finding things to do in London for under $100. It can be done! I promise.

And of course visit www.robynswanderings.com for more all of your daily travel tips!

Traffic Tango

Guy with Goats in Hanoi

Why do I have to honk for Jesus? Let’s just say that I did believe in Jesus and I took my eyes away from the road to read your sign. And lets say the car in front of me came to a screeching halt.

Would I be honking for Jesus or visiting him?

Why am I on this rant? And what has it got to do with my Friday Photo of the week?

If you haven’t been following my daily blogs I’ll let you know that I have been working in an office for the past two weeks. I’ve made lots of friends. The fax machine hates me. The computer won’t turn on. I constantly forget the mail.

But the worst part? The commute in the morning. And that is even after I recognize that I live on a 21-square-mile island.

But recognize this: I ride a motorbike. It’s hot. It’s even worse with the car exhaust belting out behind the line of vehicles desperate to drop-off their passengers.

To top it off I now have to face a group of religious zealots standing on the entrance to the capital of Bermuda telling me to honk for Jesus. Somehow mixing religion and exhaust doesn’t really work for me.

And what is the point? What is the point of honking for Jesus? Are you trying to “OUT” the religious? Is Jesus really going to feel chuffed that he’s being honked at?

Do girls walking by construction sites enjoy being heckled?

To all these questions the answer is NO. (Ok maybe some girls do, but you get my point).

So why the photo? Well as I rant and rave and try to expel fumes from my lungs I try to remember that other places in the world (i.e. Vietnam) have worse traffic issues than Bermuda. Visit my photo pages for more views of Vietnam than just the traffic.

I have to remember almost a year ago I was taking overnight bus rides where I would get an hour of sleep. Then I was expelled onto a street in the middle of nowhere Hanoi, Vietnam.

Vietnam Traffic Cops

My only choice? Accept the lift of a hotel tout on his motorbike during their rush hour. This entailed meandering through guys with goats, police officers who looked ready to shoot, noodle sellers scrounging-up breakfast and coating myself in black exhaust.

I finally arrived at the hotel and immediately got a shower. Now I arrive in the office and try to recover with a cup of coffee.

And when I look at these photos I remember the difficulty last year. And I calm-down. Maybe Bermuda’s rush hour’s not so bad. Maybe I could get through it….if I wasn’t told to honk for Jesus!