25 May 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
05/25 Bath, England
We caught a morning bus into Bath. There was such a beautiful view out the window I hardly noticed any of the other passengers. I could almost imagine hearing the hunter’s horn heralding from the hills, the sound of dogs running alongside the hooves of horses. I gazed at the many sheep spattered like white paint against the green, divided by a patchwork of trees and fences. It was if I was glancing at pages from a story book. Then the unexpected happened, a small green apple rolled to the back of the bus and a cute young smile soon followed. A smile that captivated Jim’s interest and woke him out of his attitude. A brief conversation enlisted our new friend into persuading her brother, waiting for her at the bus stop, to drive us to the youth hostel we had earmarked in our travel guide. We ended the day behind a few pints of local ale on the back patio of our house on the hill. I just watched all these strangers circulate among themselves and relaxed in anticipation of the next day’s trek.
It’s so enjoyable to wake to the sound of singing birds. I rose early and while Jim was still sleeping I trekked out on my own. Down through the hillside pastures towards the church in the middle of the city below. The city was waking up around me to the expectations of today’s festivities. There were vendors setting up shop to peddling their wares and acts of entertainment were claiming space for the day. Then I heard the sound of angel wings echoing from the walls of the church. A local choir was practicing for tonight’s performance. I sat in one of the vacant pews at the rear of the church, closed my eyes and let my ears dance with the notes of their song.
I toured the pump room and baths and upon exiting came across a group of young boys alongside the bridge that crossed the river. These boys’ eyes told stories of past mischief and solicited me for spare change. I inquired if anyone had ever jumped from that bridge into the river below. “I’ve done it” one boy quickly boasted, then two more chimed in “Me too”. “No you haven’t” as another boy punched the smallest of the boasters in the arm. “I have two pounds right here and I’ll give them to the first one of you that climbs up onto that bridge and jumps into the water below”. One young lad did not hesitate, until he reached the side of one of the buildings set upon the bridge. But like boys often do, they apply that negative peer pressure, “Coward”. To the crowd’s approval, one wet young man earned his pounds with pride. As the day began to melt away, I began wandering through the residential areas back toward the hostile. It wasn’t long before I stumbled across a gentleman struggling with a houseboat, attempting to make its way up the channel. It was obvious he was having some difficulty with one of the gates, so I thought I’d lend him a hand. Eventually we got talking and he invited me aboard for a cup of tea and crackers. As we traveled north I got wrapped up in the conversation. A few of his friends waiting along the way joined in and we began discussing religion and politics. Very interesting topics but in the back of my mind I kept reminding myself that I was getting farther and farther away from tonight’s lodging. Eventually I had to say goodbye and was forced to walk more than a few miles back into Bath, until I finally thumbed a ride. I reunited with Jim for dinner.
I explained numerous times but Jim either ignored my wishes, or I guess in his excitement he simply forgets. I prefer to be a fly on the wall and absorb my surroundings, in an attempt to be included as one of their own, to listen. But in the first couple of seconds Jim would blow any cover we might have had. “Hi, I’m Jim, did I already tell ya I’m from California.” I find it better to be on the edges of a party than in the center of it.
