Gallivanting

I'm in York!

(If staying in academia means I get to keep gallivanting around Europe periodically, count me in.)

I went with Karen to the train station this morning, so she could head off the airport to go back to Vienna, and I could get on the train to England for my conference.  I was seated next to a really sweet French girl who was going to London alone for the first time, hoping to find work for the summer.  We mostly spoke French, although I tried to help her practice her English a bit too.  It took us about 2 hours to get to London, and only about 20 minutes to go through the English Channel!  It was really weird knowing we were going underwater, and picturing where we were on the map, and then - hop! - back above ground, with all the signs in English again.  I keep trying to speak French to people here, though.  It's like my brain knows I'm in a foreign country, in Europe, and it just won't let me speak English to strangers.  It's quite odd.

Well, Karen and I finally went to the Sainte Chapelle over the weekend, an amazing cathedral that dates from the 13th century and that I meant to visit the whole time I was in Paris last time, but never made it for various reasons.  I got some stunning photos from that, but I don't want to post them just yet - I want to show you my photos from this evening.

So I changed trains in London, which involved going outside and across the street from St. Pancras station to King's Cross, and that was all I got to see of London, unfortunately.  Then it was just over 2 more hours up to York, through the English countryside.  I got in around 5:45 this evening, only that was 6:45 my time, meaning I was starting to get hungry.  I took a cab from the train station to the guest house where I'm staying, and the cab driver was fantastic.  Super friendly, jovial, joking, with a great northern English accent, and he pointed a lot of things out to me on the drive to the guest house.  He also apparently lives a block down the street, and he told me to come knock if I need anything!

He also helped me count out the money I owed him; I took some English pounds out of an ATM in King's Cross station, but it is just funny money to me.  I'm totally fine with euros, they seem like real money and I recognize the denominations of bills and coins and can count them out just fine, but English money might as well be Monopoly money printed in Chinese.  It's ridiculous.  I've never had the experience of holding a handful of coins and having absolutely no idea what any of them are worth.  I have so much more sympathy for foreigners who can't count change now.  It's a very odd feeling to have to turn every coin over in your hand multiple times in order to find the small print that tells you what it's worth, and then to have to do some weird calculation in your head to figure our what it's really worth.

Anyway, I got to my guest house, which is on the south side of the city, dropped off my bags, and headed out exploring.  Here's where I'm staying while I'm here:

It's the dark brownish one on the very left, with the sign, called Friars Rest.  My room is the one immediately above the main entrance.

The city of York has about 200,000 people, according to Wikipedia, and the city center is surrounded by walls from medieval times.  It's maybe a 5 minute walk from where I am to the walls surrounding the city.

You can take the steps up on top of the walls, too, and walk around the perimeter of the city, like so:

And just like all European towns, there are awesome churches peaking out at you wherever you go:

What I really, really love about England so far is the color scheme, though.  It's all very earthy and drab, and then you get these catchy little punches of color everywhere you look.  If it's not some shade of brown or dirty green, it's a bold and vibrant flash and catches your eye right away.  It really stood out to me while I was walking around, and it really stands out in the photos I took of the town center.  Look for it.  :)

I wandered around for a while, looking for a place to eat, when this tea shop finally drew me in.  The view was lovely, and there was a woman playing the piano, and it was all very soothing.  Everything looked so delicious, but I ultimately had to go for the fish and chips and peas with a delicious English lager made right in the area.

Right after I took that picture, a very English looking young man came and sat down next to me and ordered "one of your lovely cream teas, please".  He was so not from York.  The accent up here is really down home, inn-keeper sounding, and this guy sounded straight out of Oxford and was carrying a small bit of luggage.  So after both sitting next to each other, alone, for a while, I eventually decided to make good on my promise to myself that I would talk to random strangers while I'm here, and I said, "So how weird is it if I strike up a conversation with you?"  And he said it wasn't that weird at all, but that it might be a bit awkward, with him being English and all.  He was a historian who had taught at Cambridge for 10 years and now teaches history at a school in London.  A taaaad bit on the stuffy side, but quite friendly, and it was a nice little chat.  I wished he was from York so I could get a better handle on the accent up here, though.  Although I guess this is what happens when you choose a lovely tea room for dinner; you meet other people who choose lovely tea rooms for dinner.  If I want to talk to some Yorkies, I'll have to pluck up the courage to go into a pub.

After dinner, I needed to walk off the fish and chips, so I took a nice, roundabout, indirect way back to the guest house.  There are two little rivers that go through the town, and I crossed one of them on the way back:

There was also a sandwich shop with a rather cryptic message on the left side of its sign:

And I walked by the tower that either had something to do with Jews being executed during World War Two, or the Duke of York nursery rhyme, or maybe both.  My taxi driver mentioned both things at one point, and I can't remember if they were both in reference to this landmark or not.  It was a bit of a whirlwind tour, and I had no idea where we were for any of it.

These people live a few doors down from my guest house, and they apparently consume a positively comical quantity of onions:

And finally, I made it back to my temporary home!  Doesn't even the door to my room look cozy and cute?  And I'd like to think the teddy bear was put there just to welcome me.

Last note on this evening: it is somewhat terrifying that they drive on the left side of the street here.  You don't realize how much it messes everything up until you have to cross the street a lot, and you can't keep straight which way the traffic should be coming from...

(aaaaack there are French people walking by outside my window and it's messing me up)

... so every time I have to do it, I look both ways about four times.  I also keep walking on the wrong side of the sidewalk, or through tight spaces, or whatever, because people tend to follow traffic patterns when they walk, and you don't realize it until you're in a place with different traffic patterns.  When I got off the train I kept thinking "What is wrong with these people?  Why do they keep walking right into me while I'm trying to get around with this big suitcase?"  And then I would realize that I was going up the wrong side of the stairs, or walking on the wrong side of the pathway again.  D'oh.

Well, I think it's time for some tea (I have my own electric kettle in my room!), and probably bed pretty soon.  I'm tired, and it's going to be a very long couple of days.

And I have to get up early in the morning, because I'm having a full English breakfast, which I'm ridiculously excited about.  This is only my second time staying in a bed and breakfast, and I wish I could do it more often, because it's so very fun.

Well, goodnight for now!