British Isles - Day 6

 Would it be too repetitive if I start by praising the public transportation system in London? As usual, I was able to catch the two subway rides from my housing to the train station without a hitch. Both departed on time, to the minute. So did the intercity train bearing me to Canterbury. I’d first heard of the city when my father visited, and subsequently praised, the cathedral. Then, in high school junior-year British literature, we spent a fair while reading and discussing Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, a story about a group of pilgrims heading to the same cathedral. It is only a 55 minute train ride from St. Pancras International to Canterbury West Station and the round trip is under $45. 

I arrived just past 9:00, so most tourist attractions were still closed. Consequently, I took the longer, scenic route along the river as I headed to Canterbury Castle. Kudos where they are due, the city does a great job with signage, and I found my target without the aid of Lord Google’s map. There I did find a slight issue with my plan- the castle was closed due to the danger of falling rocks. Yikes. 

Only slightly disappointed, since I at least saw it from the street, I headed up the old city wall to Dane John, an earthen mound with a view of the city.

I then moved on to the real gems in the city- the three UNESCO churches. St. Augustine’s Abbey was supposed to be open by that point, but as I approached, I saw a locked gate.

“Alright,” I decided, “Off to see St. Martin’s Church first.”

I arrived at the church, which frequently limits visitors to the church yard, to discover that it would be letting in visitors beginning at 11:00. I didn’t want to miss my chance to visit, so I headed back down to the abbey’s ruins to try visiting (the second attempt). Once again, the gates I had seen were locked. Confused, since it had long since supposed to have opened, I kept walking and stumbled upon a quaint little café (Pheobes Canterbury). I decided that a double espresso would do me well, so I entered. The daily special board caught my eye- Mediterranean Vegetable Tart, with potato salad, and rainbow salad. Well, who can resist that? Time for elevenses (disregard that it was only about 10:00). The café had a small yard, so I comfortably lounged, sipping my espresso, as I waited for the main dish. And it was totally worth it. The potato salad was fairly run of the mill, but when the weakest component, by far, of a dish is average, it really makes the great parts stand out. The rainbow salad evidently got its name from the multitude of colorful vegetables and berries making it up- green salad leaves, orange carrots and bell peppers, red strawberries and tomatoes, purple grapes. Roasted vegetables topped with goat cheese filled the tart, the base of which was made of a thin and delicate pastry dough. The dish was well balanced, with the richness of the goat cheese tempered by the freshness of the salad, and mellowed by the soft roasted vegetables. 

After a meal like that, anyone can feel confident that all is right in the world. It was, without a doubt, the best meal I had eaten in England, even if it isn’t exactly traditional fare. Content with existence, I decided to give the abbey a third shot. After all, third time’s a charm? At least it was in this case. I approached the same gate from a slightly different angle and noticed the door in the building the gate was attached to. That door was the entrance… Please take a moment to imagine just how foolish I felt as I realized that it had been open the whole time, I just didn’t notice the entrance. I really shouldn’t complain though, since my wanderings helped me find my delicious second breakfast. Silver linings do exist. 

Anyway, St. Augustine’s Abbey is in ruins. It didn’t fare well when Henry VIII decided to break with the Catholic Church. His advisor, Thomas Cromwell, ensured that the Catholic Church’s possessions were transferred to the crown and, frequently, destroyed. Unfortunately this abbey was among the destroyed ones. There is evidence that the Romans had been there, the Normans did a lot of building there… And all of that turned to rubble. Luckily, it was excavated in the twentieth century and is now a museum.

While I was there, the clock had struck eleven, so I headed back to St. Martin’s. It is a small church, surrounded by a neat burial ground with graves dating back to the 1660’s. The church itself is much older, with the original part of the building built by the Romans. It is small and neat, painstakingly maintained by a team of devoted volunteers. 

Those were just the first two parts of the UNESCO triplet. The third, and biggest, part was the Canterbury Cathedral. It is absolutely massive, and even though it was partially covered in scaffolding for maintenance, absolutely beautiful. A mix of architectural styles can be observed inside- from the high and airy 14th century gothic arches in the nave to the Romanesque domed arches in the crypt, dating back to the 11th century. Among the famous folks buried there is the Black Prince. His armor is now on display in the crypt, protected from the bleaching effects of the Sun.

Since the Romans played such an important role in the development of the city, of course there is a museum dedicated to them. It is pretty basic, but does show authentic Roman artifacts and uncovered ruins. Actually, there was one particularly interesting fact that I learned- the Blitz contributed to historic knowledge. When the bombs damaged Canterbury’s streets, they revealed Roman ruins. As I said earlier- silver linings do exist. 

At this point, the tourist attractions had started to close, so I wandered the streets. There’s a vibrant old city, filled with all sorts of shops, cafes, eateries, and stores, many of which are small businesses, which I like to try to support. Among the notable ones- the Crooked House, which has a bookstore inside, the Western Gate, and a less noble, but mildly entertaining store: "American Candy Shop". Among the things on sale there- Coco Puffs, Lucky Charms, Pop-Tarts, and other common American breakfast staples. That might explain a thing or two...

I still had a couple hours until my train and, since I like the “When in Rome, do as Romans do” rule, I headed to the pub. Actually, everything up to this point was written in the raucous company of ale (hopefully that isn’t too detrimental to my writing…). 

The ale’s warm embrace came and went while I waited for the train. Luckily I had my Kindle with me. I think I jinxed myself when I wrote about the trains being accurate to the minute- my train back to London was late by a whole three minutes! In case it wasn’t clear, I’m jesting. At home, I consider myself fortunate if they’re only ten minutes late. The train ride itself was uneventful, just like the journey to Canterbury. Green fields and pastures split into plots by rows of trees smoothly passed the windows. Perfect environment to get some work done.

I arrived back at St. Pancras. It is just across the street from King's Crossing, and the tube stop I needed was in the other train station. Luckily, I remembered about the  Platform 9 3/4 plaque, so I stopped by.