After a morning of trudging through a battlefield, I was off to explore a more literary town: Canterbury. Of course, this is something that I HAVE been looking forward to since high school, ever since Ms.Robinson introduced us all to the Canterbury Tales and we dressed up like the pilgrims for our Lit Challenge and someone made a sign that said "Canterbury or BUST!" It was also the scene of one of the closing events in the book I just reread, Pillars of the Earth, Archbishop Thomas Becket's murder. All in all, I was quite excited to visit.
My overall impression of Canterbury is that it's lovely. I immediately fell in love with the atmosphere, lulled into a happy state of just enjoying the moment. The High Street (the main thoroughfare that crosses the city) is technically a traffic street, but pedestrians meander along the cobblestones at will. I love the ebb and flow of tourists wandering aimlessly in and through High Street, parting gracefully for the vehicles that patiently move with, rather than against, the traffic of pedestrians, then coming together again naturally to fill the vacant space once the cars have moved past. I am wrapped up in the crowd; we are some kind of living, breathing organism, connected by a common purpose and collectively drawn into an alternate way of existing. It's almost as if the town breathes a sense of pilgrimage into all of us, and we are all affected, together. It's serene, it's beautiful in its naturalness.
After finding my guest house and shedding my overnight bag, I set off to explore the city at night. I was jazzed by the fact that I could see the top of the Cathedral from my window, so I headed there first. I felt like I was being a bit sneaky, but I followed some people past the gated entrance and found myself staring up at the beautifully lit architectural masterpiece. I was absolutely stunned. I took a few pictures, wandered around a bit more. I soon discovered that I wasn't being that sneaky - other people were filtering through the same entrance I used and no one was stopping or questioning them either. Turns out there was a choral concert happening in the crypt that night! YES! That is just the kind of random event I would like to go to! I grabbed a quick coffee and muffin, called that dinner, and headed back to the Crypt in time for the concert. It was hauntingly striking to be in the crypt after dark, I can tell you that much. After the concert (okay, just half of it... the choir wasn't very good and I felt I had soaked up all the culture this was offering me) I wandered around the city and found...
The Canterbury Tales Pub! SCORE! I popped in for a pint, expecting tacky touristy crap on the walls, perhaps an audio version of the Tales repeating endlessly. At the very least the barmaids would be dressed as characters from Chaucer's great work? No? Wait, I'm sorry... this is a local spot? 90% of the people in here are just the bartender's friends? And there's two different sets of people on a date here? Seriously? Well, that works for me too. Pour me a pint and I'll sit back and relax. Oh, and this is what I'll listen to through the sound system instead recordings of the Tales: http://www.youtube.com/wat
The next day I did the tourist stuff. I went back to the Cathedral and took a moment to appreciate the Thomas Becket memorial. I visited the Canterbury Tales tourist attraction and heard Chaucer's Tales told while watching creepy mannequins being lit and unlit dramatically. Ah, Lit geekiness. How I cherish you.
My own pilgrimage was admittedly less than purely pious, so I shouldn't be one to judge. But I have to say I was a bit disappointed by the Starbucks and Pret locations dotting the High Street. Really? Even the little town of Canterbury isn't safe from touristy influence? Guess not. Oh well. I did need the coffee...
And, of course, it wouldn't be an Angela excursion without finding some kind of protest (akin to the one I've discovered with Monica in Greece and the random New Zealand Days with Anna a few weeks ago). I don't even know what these people were shouting, but it was in unison and it was loud. Good grief.
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