Shambling down the Shambles and lunch!

When I was a young history buff, I had a particular affinity for medieval history.  I mean, why wouldn't I? It's easy to get caught up in the romanticized vision of castles and nobles and all that guff. But I wanted to know what it was really like. I read books like Life In a Medieval Castle, which focused on the reality of the time, and came to realize that living in the 14th century certainly wasn't a fairy tale. Yet even knowing the grim truth of it all, I became even more interested. One of York's best selling points for someone trying to put their feet in the shoes of the past is that so very much of it remains intact from the 12th century on.  No major fires, no major destruction during the bombings of World War II - in short, none of the many things which disrupted the living-history of London and many other European cities. Stepping out of York Minster in many ways felt like stepping back in time.

Sprawling outside of and around York Minster is a neighborhood of narrow, crooked, medieval streets that still bear names going back to the Viking era. Those names are often indicative of which merchants used to sell their goods here: go to Spurriergate to buy spurs, Colliergate to buy or trade coal, and my personal favorite, Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate, which literally means "neither one thing or another". 

Looking back towards York Minster from Stonegate, I was shocked at how easy it was to imagine this narrow, crowded street of 21st century tourists filled instead with 15th century merchants and shoppers. It almost felt like a movie backdrop!

Although none of the shops remain as they once were, small details survive.  In a time when very few people were literate, the importance of the street names being reflective of the wares sold there is obvious. But then there's the Red Devil at number 33 Stonegate. This was neither a dark magic shop, nor a simply quirky decoration - it was a printer's shop! Anyone looking for the printer in the 16th century would have known from this on the facade that they had found their spot. Printers would often blame typos, spilled ink, etc. on a mischievous spirit - the printer's demon - and soon the red devil became associated with the printer's shop. And now you know! Very useful should you find yourself transported back in time and desperately need to find a printer.

Even though literacy rates by the 19th century were much higher, some merchants still used exterior decoration to indicate their wares. The statue of Minerva on the corner of High Petergate once adorned a bookshop.

Probably the most famous of York's winding medieval streets is the Shambles. Formerly the go-to place to find butchers in the city, the name derives from shelves, called shambles, that were used to display fresh meat. It is one of the best preserved medieval-era streets in the world. While it's unclear when it was first established, or when it first became a butcher's market, the Shambles can be found recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086.

The street seems almost impossibly narrow at some parts

Many of the shops along the Shambles still have butcher's hooks and rods outside their doors

Honestly, the whole street made me think so much of Diagon Alley, someone should really think of opening a Harry Potter themed shop along it!

Oh.

 Anyway, off to lunch! It had been recommended to me that we try to find the Golden Fleece and stop in for a nice lunch, so we did. It's one of York's oldest and (allegedly) most haunted pubs, so we pretty much had to give it a try.  It's easy to find - just look for the giant golden fleece...

... right next to the half-timbered building that looks like it's about to collapse on itself. 

Lunch (and a couple of ciders) was pretty good.  We may or may not have sat in the alcove which hosts the pub's "grumpy old man ghost". Rested and refueled, we wandered back out into the city. Adam and I are both big believers that if a boat tour is on hand, a boat tour should be taken, so we set off for the river. 

Along the way we found Clifford's Tower, the keep of York Castle. 

Let's take this opportunity to talk about a few things. First off, one of the reasons I wanted to travel to the UK was - and I'm not kidding here - I hate the sun. If the sun is in my eyes, I am almost instantly in a bad mood. Sun goes behind clouds - boom, my mood is much improved. I was promised overcast skies and clouds, and look at that sunshine and perfect periwinkle blue! UGH. Second, that tower appears to be up a rather steep hill, no? YES. And you have to climb a rather steep flight of steps to get to it. And they don't tell you it'll cost £5 to get inside until you get to the TOP.  Third, well isn't that just gorgeous?

Around the side of the tower, we came to this fascinating sign. It's a terrible and sobering reminder that humankind has long had the ability to be dreadful to each other - something I am sorry to say we have not outgrown.

With a more serious air we continued on towards the riverfront. We hadn't gone far when we encountered this spirit lifter. Not sure what's happening here, but ... yeah, ok!

We reached the boat dock on the Ouse and found a lovely pedestrian path along the bank. Many families were out for a walk in the sunshine, including this one.

The river itself was humming with activity. We saw a boat that had clearly been overtaken by pirates and Labradors.

Look at these people, clearly frozen in fear.

 Adam, who does NOT hate the sun, was enjoying the warm day.

Soon we were underway and enjoying the on-board narration of the sites and history along the Ouse. It wasn't the best boat tour we have ever done (Amsterdam I think still wins that one) but it was a relaxing way to spend an hour or so. And we did learn some things! Such as how to pronounce Ouse, which we were both shocked to learn is "Ooze". Because nothing says "delightful natural beauty" more than "the River Ooze". 

One of the tidbits I do remember from the tour, was that prior to there being bridges over the Ouse, there were ferries. Of course, those ferries were operated by people who collected coin for ferrying travelers. When bridges were built, those people found themselves out of business. However, in at least this one case, the city of York built a house for one of the former ferrymen, and allowed him to use his new residence as a tollbooth to charge people wanting to cross the bridge. The house is still there.

At one end of the river, the tour was impeded by a regatta, which meant the boat couldn't go down into the area of St. Mary's Abbey (more on that in the next post) and instead we got to see some of the quieter, more residential areas.

Sailing through an area of waterside pubs and restaurants, we had our first encounter with a Slug & Lettuce, which is, as it turns out, a fairly popular chain of pubs. But here's my question - who wants to eat or drink at a place named "Slug"?! 

I saw this one at at a distance and said "Chicken Dinner!" then laughed at my own cleverness, only to discover that yes, they do in fact serve chicken dinner.

We disembarked at the regatta's finish line and decided to explore the area on foot. 

This was also our first encounter with an ice cream house boat. Or would that make it an ice cream shop boat? We were so full from lunch we actually passed on sampling any. If you know anything about the Grimm obsession with ice cream, you know that means we were FULL!

If you look at the picture above, you'll see that behind the bank and the walking path there's a fence with a lot of greenery on the other side. That's where we headed next, but you'll have to wait I'm afraid. The next post will wrap up our time in York in spectacular fashion!

A New Yorker in York

Listen, I have to tell you something. When I was a kid, I was raised to be extremely proud of my Irish ancestry. My dad's idea of a lullaby was Molly Malone. As such, I always thought once I got to travelling I would go to Ireland and never want to leave. Well, I did get to Ireland, and I loved it, but I left and haven't exactly rushed back. For this trip, I thought for sure I'd love the Scotland part more than the England part. I mean, pffft, England. Whatever. Sure history is nice and all, but there's no way this Irish(ish) lass was going to love England. 

But that was all before I fell in love. With York. 

York is a medium to small sized city, which like St. Albans has it's foundations in a Roman town. Eboracum was established in 71 AD, but unlike St. Albans' gradual abandonment, the Anglo-Saxons took over the town after Roman withdrawal and renamed it Eoforwic. Vikings came along in the 9th century and reestablished the town as Jorvik, which was later anglicized into York when the Vikings were driven out. History!

The town has, historically, always been walled, and much of at least the most recent medieval wall remains. Some parts are older, or are built on older foundations, as well.  Interesting note about York: the city gates are called bars, but the streets are called gates (which stems from the Viking word for street). So my favorite saying from York is "here our streets are called gates, our gates are called bars, and our bars are called pubs!"  

Our hotel was just a few blocks away from Bootham Bar, which we had actually been through the night before as the Hole in the Wall is just on the other side.

Delighted to find that most of the city wall is still accessible, we headed up.

The banks below the wall were drenched in these lovely pale-gold daffodils. I couldn't get enough of them!

Adam paused in a lordly fashion:

And I took the photo op as well:

Atop the walls we had our first daylight view of York Minster, and oh, it was lovely:

We exited at Monk Bar, which dates back to the 14th century, and houses a still-in-perfect-working-order portcullis:

I was astounded by the four story tower at Monk Bar, and especially the figures on top.  They're shown holding boulders, which they appear prepared to throw.  Clearly a 14th century message that could not be missed: KEEP. OUT. 

 "One step closer and I will drop this on your head!"

Having ogled long enough at the wonders of Monk Bar, we moseyed along. Our destination this morning was York Minster, but passing by a pub I caught sight of something unusual.  This little guy was standing on a table inside, just watching the passers by.

Architectural wonders along the way were in ample supply.

Finally, we came to York Minster. Most of the current structure dates to the 13th and 14th centuries, but it is steeped in history going back long before that.  There is (of course) a Roman town under the foundations, as well as bits of earlier churches from the 7th century onward. I could not wait to get inside.

But first - foot problems. I bought a new pair of boots for this trip, as I did not really possess footwear one might utilize for the anticipated environment - namely wet and/or muddy - especially later in the trip. I was wearing them this day, and while they were mostly fine, I was wearing the wrong socks; I had ankle socks, and needed knee highs. Already a little chaffed spot was bothering me. Rather than let it get worse until I could hardly walk any more, Adam left me to sit outside the Minster while he hoofed it back to the hotel to get me the right socks. My hero!

I had a great time people watching and exploring the little square outside the Minster while he was gone. I learned that the Constantine the Great was actually declared Roman Emperor in York, not too far from where the Minster stands now. History!

Adam soon returned to save the day with the correct socks and even a band-aid. He's the best. 

Into the Minster we went. I love grand cathedrals and history, but getting to experience grand, historic, ANGLICAN churches was something new. Adam and I are Episcopalian, which is the predominant branch of the Anglican conference in the US, so there was a nifty sense of "belonging" in appreciating York Minster. Of course, there's an irony there, as the Anglican church is known for being overwhelmingly inclusive - membership in most Anglican churches is open to everyone, regardless of sexual orientation, race, background, etc. It's one of the many things I love about being a member. But in regards to appreciating the minsters and cathedrals of England, maybe it just extended a little more understanding - I know the rites and rituals of these churches like the back of my hand, and it was really cool to see it in a historic and gorgeous setting. To know that I could attend my Sunday worship here made it feel a little closer to home.

Anyway, on to the pictures because words won't do York Minster justice.

This clock in the north transept dates back to 1749, and we were lucky enough to see it strike the noon hour. The two knight figures turn on their pedestals, and their lances strike the chimes to announce the hour. 

 I thought this dragon sconce was endearing.

Attached to the minster is the original Chapter House, an important building in cathedrals where meetings are held for the community or the church's deacons, etc. This is a much smaller building, although the intricacy of the detailing was jaw dropping.

Chapter House ceiling, overview and close up:

Carvings from over the seating areas of the Chapter House:

Being that this is England, of course when the church began to grow among the people in the early days there was much incorporation of early pagan symbolism to give a sense of familiarity to the new religion. As such, I was excited to find a few Green Men incorporated into the carvings all over the church. Here is one from the corridor that connects the Chapter House to the north transept.

We also explored under the Minster, although I have no pictures. In the 1960s an attentive architect realized that the building was in danger of collapsing. The primary cause of danger was that instead of resting on a proper foundation, the cathedral was built on top of the ruins of previous churches and a Roman settlement - all of which were starting to give way under the enormous weight of the building. An effort was put together to dig under the Minster and reinforce the foundations. While they were down there, excavators and historians left much of it open so that it could be explored by future visitors. If you get the chance, I highly recommend taking a tour of the exhibition they've laid out down there, as well as the church's crypt.

Next up: lunch, and exploring the Shambles!

A new trip begins, and gets off to a rocky start

Well, here we are again.  The Pandas have been on a fabulous vacation and I REALLY want to blog it. Just like I did with Japan... but I failed to complete that. And just like I did with our cruise last year... but I failed to begin that.

Don't give up on me yet, though! I have a few tricks up my sleeve this time. One of them is YOU! Yes, you! Please feel free to nudge me, pester me, gently encourage me, or yell at me to get this done. Whatever works for you! Please? Ok, thanks.

So let's jump in. Where are we going? The United Kingdom! You know, where the history comes from. (Bonus points if you get that reference.)  More specifically, England and Scotland. (Sorry, Wales. We'll catch you next time!) This post will be a little photo-shy, but don't you fret - there's plenty of that to come. It will also be long, but hey - so was our first day, ok?

We left on a Thursday from Dulles, and the plan was to catch a flight on Delta to JFK, then connect to a Virgin Atlantic flight to Heathrow.  This was our first time flying VA, and we were excited to try it out.  As we were in line for security, Adam got on his Delta app and realized our flight to New York was delayed. It wasn't a huge deal, as we had a decent layover, but nevertheless we kept our eye on it. By the time we made it through security, the flight was delayed again. Nope, this won't work. He got on the phone and started making changes.  Before we got to the terminal we were booked on a direct flight to Heathrow on Virgin, making our layover unnecessary.  They were even able to locate our bags and re-tag them, so we were all set.  The flight to New York ended up being delayed several hours, and we definitely would have missed our connection, so rebooking so quickly was a vacation-saver.

Now with plenty of time to spare, we went over to the Virgin lounge, figuring we would check it out and get our first taste of this hyped-up airline. Except we didn't get past the front desk. They didn't see us in their system at all. Back out to the main terminal, a few phone calls and everything was sorted. Turns out Delta was too fast for Virgin and hadn't sent them our information yet. All good, we finally made it into the lounge.  I got to sit and finish up some work that I had planned to do during our layover at JFK, and we both ordered drinks and food. The service was great, from the front desk to the wait staff, and the drinks and food were more than acceptable. I was definitely a little buzzy by the time we got on the plane. Because VACATION.

After about two hours they called our flight for boarding. First thing we saw when we entered was a bar. On the plane. Well, that's new (to me). It was sleek and had fun lighting, but I couldn't help but wonder how much it would actually get used? We made our way to our seats and settled in for the flight.

Then the pilot came on and said there was severe weather coming and the whole airport had shut down. No idea when we'd be cleared to take off. Again, we breathe sighs of relief that we had rebooked a direct flight. The entertainment systems were on, so I sat and enjoyed a movie while rain poured and wind rocked the plane back and forth. I would much rather be on the ground during a weather system like that! After about two hours, the airport was reopened and it was time for take off! Hooray!

On our way, and dinner was served on the plane. It was ok. Nothing spectacular.  Service, too, was a bit indifferent and cold. And I haaaaaaated my seat (Adam did, too).  It was, frankly, uncomfortable, and while it had a lie-flat capability, you needed to get a member of the crew to convert it to/from the lie-flat configuration for you. I didn't love it. But as a side note, I did notice a whole bunch of people hanging out at the bar, so that answers that question!

The flight went smoothly and finally we were landing! Any doubts that our bags were actually retagged to our flight proved unfounded, as they showed up on the baggage carousel in perfect shape. At Heathrow we decided to take advantage of one more thing Virgin offers: the arrivals lounge. It was about 9:30 am local time, and as we had had a full day on Thursday and an overnight flight, we were both interested in a shower. They have a lovely set up with fully equipped spa-type shower rooms and we had a nice wash, change, and refresh. Then we stopped in their lounge for breakfast and some coffee. The lounge also offers a full-service spa and salon, but we didn't take advantage of that. I didn't love the flight itself, but having this available was all very nice.

Once we were ready, it was off to find our car! I will confess that I make Adam drive when we're overseas most of the time. Especially in countries that drive on the left. He lived in Japan for three years so he's used to it. Ok, so it was 15 years ago. He still has more experience than I do!!

Here's a pic of the little chariot we ended up with (please do excuse all the dirt and dust as this was taken later in the trip):

The rental agency had Land Rovers available, and it seemed so perfect, so we did check to see if we could get one. No love, but by the time we were done with this trip we were glad we had a smaller car.  Turns out that roads in the UK are really narrow. Almost as if they're not meant for cars. Who knew?

We left London and headed north! Our first planned stop of the day was St. Albans to get some lunch and look around the town. It's a small city, with some excellently preserved Roman structures and a famous cathedral, as well as some classic historical buildings, like this one:

We took a look around the visitors center, which does an admirable job of explaining the Roman settlement of Verulamium which stood here from about 50 to 450 AD before being mostly abandoned after the Roman withdrawal from Britain. Unlike a lot of other Roman settlements, no major city or town was built over the foundations, and so a lot of the ancient city remains. Such as this spectacular mosaic floor:

Not only is the floor so beautifully preserved, it's in the exact place it was originally laid down. 

Unfortunately, due to time constrictions, this was as close as we got to the cathedral:

I'm a sucker for living history.  I understand the importance of preserving historical sites and setting them aside from the world at large, but it always makes me a little sad to see something preserved in time, never to be touched or lived with again. So to find out that the remains of the Roman wall in St. Albans were essentially in the middle of a soccer field, well that was a joy.

I'm also a sucker for birds, especially ones I don't get to see every day.

After too brief of a stay, it was time to be off! But lady luck was still peeved at us for some reason. From St. Albans to our final destination for the day SHOULD have been a three hour drive. We left at about 2pm and expected to be having dinner at a reasonable hour at the other end of our trip. That did NOT happen.

Know what happened? Traffic. That's what happened. And I don't mean run-of-the-mill "oh it's the weekend, let's head out of the city" traffic. I mean, standstill. "Get comfy sweetheart, 'cause you're not going anywhere" traffic. After several hours (hours!!) of inching along, we decided to take the next exit we saw and figure out an alternate route. Which was just as well, as emergency services showed up and literally closed the highway and forced everyone off at the exit.  Those up ahead of us might still be there for all I know. Stuck on that highway. Unmoving. Forever. But hey, at least the scenery on the detour was nice.

A few miles later we had to ford a bit of a river to get to the other side of the road, so that was fun. By the time we arrived at our hotel for the next two nights, we were beyond punchy. And hungry! We were relieved to find a few parking spots left in our hotel's lot, but they were so tiny and precariously located that we had a really hard time squeezing the car into them. The front desk clerk finally came out and, taking pity on us, moved her car so we could get into a more accessible spot. I'd say she was thinking "ugh, Americans" except that she was EXCEPTIONALLY kind, and even recommended a lovely hole in the wall for us to grab a late dinner as it was almost 9pm. I don't mean that in a degrading way - the place was literally called The Hole in the Wall.

(Picture from their website as it was far darker when we arrived!)

Fed and watered, we turned in for the night (after lugging our bags up four flights of stairs, one of which was terrifyingly narrow) and were out within moments. Tomorrow would be our first day exploring York! 

And if you think this was a long post, just think how it felt to live this day!