A long, hot Bath

Leaving the huge landscape of Stonehenge behind, the intrepid travellers (Barb, Paul and me) made our way through the English countryside (and the Pom's equivalent of Waiouru!) to Bath.

Bath: ancient city of pagans, Romans, society of the 18th century (think the Duchess of Devonshire) and now, well, still the creme de la creme of English society. Our first glimpse was of a white city built on the side of a hill. Wikipedia tells me that much of Bath is built from Bath Stone, an Oolitic Limestone comprising granular fragments of calcium carbonate. This makes the stone reflect the sun, and turns it into a stunning, bright white city. Especially when it is a baking hot day - as it was when I was there.

Parking was a breeze, then finding the city centre almost as easy. After a quick lunch in a non-touristy pub, I joined a walking tour. These are free, and organised very professionally - given by the 'Mayors corps of honorary guides'. We started off in the main square, outside Bath Abbey - a fantastical church with amazing carved stone figures climbing up and down the outside - to heaven and to hell. I remember standing in awe, listening to its history, merely five hundred years old it was a baby compared with Stonehenge, but awe-inspiring nevertheless.

Walking through Bath, we saw Roman baths, architecture like nowhere else, and heard the stories of the city that had its heyday due to being the 'in place' for society. The Royal Crescent is huge. Built in a massive semi-circle, what fascinated me was the green park in front. Not that long ago, I watched an episode of Time Team where they dug up that very park. Seems amazing when standing on it, that the city of Bath ever allowed that sort of excavation.

We were lucky enough to see the inside of the Assembly Rooms: one thing took my eye here - a stunning chandelier. Worth a million pounds, it shone, sparkled, was just stunning in real life.

Walking back through the narrow streets to the square, I saw a woman about my age, with a little girl about Lili's age. Beautifully turned out, I wondered how a child would feel growing up in a place that felt to me like a well-preserved manor-house. Where there was grass, it was smooth, manicured, perfect. Where there wasn't grass, there was stone. I didn't see a single playground anywhere.

Bath struck me as a beautiful city, full of history (and a UNESCO World Heritage Site). But would I live there? Not a hope. And not just because the prices were comparable with London. Give me rough-and-ready New Zealand cities any time!

Mysterious Stonehenge

Having a fascination for all things old, Stonehenge was a 'must-see' for me. After all, it was less than two hours away from our home-base of Reading.

Setting off at a reasonable hour, we made good time on the English roads and found our way to the tourist mecca of Stonehenge. It was packed. Tour buses, cars, tourists, cameras... all very odd as it was quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

What the books don't show is that Stonehenge sits supreme and lonely in the midst of a massive, blank landscape. It is as if past travellers reached the Salisbury Plains and their children immediately said 'we're bored, there is nothing to do here', so in typical parent fashion, the adults moved heaven and earth (or a number of very large rocks) to give their children something to look at. Perhaps.

Seeing Stonehenge is believing. Seeing the massive monoliths standing, incredibly upright, in the same place they were set thousands (yes, thousands) of years ago can bring about some strange reactions.

For me, a sense of history. A sense that people lived, worked and died here. A sense that this place had been busy, once. Not busy in the sense it was the day I visited. Busy with tourists and cameras, people looking but not belonging. No, I had more of a sense of a busy community, centred on the stones, but living and working in them, around them. The stones were a part of their community.

For us now, Stonehenge is a museum piece, complete with ropes, guided walkways and a personal headset for every tourist. These headsets isolated us from each other, giving us the stories, myths and legends about the place, individually. I found it hard to share the wonder when I was hearing the stories in my own time, with my own personal headset.

While Stonehenge filled me with wonder, almost with a sense of ownership (it was my people who put this here), I know that not all feel this way. For some, it is a place of horror, a place where they feared to go. Where dreadful things happen(ed).

So what is Stonehenge really all about? When I was little, I thought it must be possible to know. Now that I'm an adult, I've had to realise that some things will always be a mystery.

I will leave you with this thought on Stonehenge. When I was there, the place was packed. The car park was full. When I was walking around the stones I had to dodge, thread my way through, walk around individuals and groups of people. It was like being in a busy Westfield - think school holidays. But take a look at the photos. Can you see the hordes of tourists? The hundreds of people who were viewing this monument to civilisation? I kid you not, they were there. But where are they in the photos? Was I really alone on that day?