tintern abbey

The last few days have been rather boring, inasmuch as days spent in the (desparately rural) English country-side can be.

And by that, I mean that there has been a lot of home-work, hiking, and (help me think of another word beginning with H? I do so love alliteration)… you get the picture.

Only thing really notable: I hiked to Seaton again Saturday afternoon (about a four mile, quite hilly, trip—my calves thanked me later for the definition) and gathered a few groceries as well as browsed through some charity shops. I think it’s quite amusing that they’re called that, as charity shops just sound so much more patronizing than “thrift stores,” as we say in the states. 

Sunday was rather rainy. I don’t think I left the hostel once. Read my Bible, Othello, and wrote a bit.

We left Beer this morning. I’m not going to lie—I was quite ready to leave, although it was “home” for two weeks, so I felt a bit nostalgic. My boyfriend called to my attention that I tend to do that—grow nostalgic right before leaving/right after leaving a place. Do most people? I’m not sure. But he’s right—even if I’ve hated the place (not to say I hated Beer, but two weeks was a long time to spend there), there’s a bit of me that says “Hey, you spent some of your life here, left a piece of yourself here, and that means something.” Whatever. Maybe it’s the romantic in me.

Drove two hours and crossed the Welsh border to arrive at Tintern Abbey (ok all you lovers of the Romantics—pull out your Wordsworth because, yes, you’re right—he did write “Lines Composed Above Tintern Abbey” here!) around 11 a.m. I know I say this about most places we go but—this place was truly incredible.

ain't she a beaut?

Founded in 1131, Cistercian monks used the Abbey for the next few centuries before it slowly crumbled into abandoned ruins. The skeleton of the original Abbey is still there—a place for tourists to wonder through, marvel at, and climb on. We spent an hour just walking through it. In the used-to-be-kitchen, you can see the stone shelves where monks would have placed their bread, or you can descend down the stone steps into the cathedral, as the monks would have done, coming from their dormitory to sing their 2 a.m. services. Grass dotted by white daisies grows where monks would have once wondered for evening prayers, and the ceiling is gone, topped off instead by cobalt blue sky. The Gothic architectural style means that there’s sky-piercing arches and enormous gaping windows where stain glass once shone.

AJ scaling some walls

look at those windows!

inside arches

i loved these illustrations-- also, the left side is in Gaelic!

panorama standing on the second floor of the abbey

          After wondering in the ruins for about an hour, we headed into the village and over a bridge, hiking uphill until we could overlook the Abbey. Dr. Colon then read Wordsworth’s famous poem (a WIE tradition) before we headed into town for lunch. I had a Ploughman’s platter (apparently an English thing) – aged cheddar, ham, crusty bread, salad (fresh veg! with dressing!), pickled onions, and an apple. It was some of the best food I’ve had here—I was delighted! Afterwards, I bought some chocolate ice-cream for the long bus ride. It was a good afternoon, and I was happier than I have been for awhile.  

            Two hours later, we arrived at Swadlincote Youth Hostel in the National Forest. We’ll be here for a few nights, and it’s pretty spacious which is nice. Also they have wifi, which we're all very happy about. Tomorrow we’re taking a day trip to Stratford-on-Avon, where William Shakespeare lived, and after a few more stops we're heading to see the play Othello. Should be good. I’ll keep you updated as I can, friends!