Curative Waters

Just before Tom started school, we spent a few days in Bath – essentially, a vacation from a vacation. Despite a great population on a tiny island, there really are rolling hills, quaint brick cottages and vast green expanses here in the UK, and these were our views out the train window to Bath.

With the whole city designated as a Unesco World Heritage Site, our walking shoes would need to prove their worth. We joined up with the free Mayor’s Guide tour and started tourist-ing. Immediately, Bath makes an impression with its distinctive white (“Bath”) stone and Georgian townhouses; this is obviously the hub of the upper class. Our guide clearly (and jokingly?) asserted his preference for the Palladian-style and scowled at all Victorian ‘mishaps’ along the way. He also frequently toasted his “hero”, Beau Nash – official Master of Ceremonies of Bath in the early 18th century, which meant ambassador to the rich (in fact, he allowed no one else in the city), dictator of city etiquette and fashionista. Truly, though, he almost single-handedly made Bath the most fashionable resort destination of the time and most of the city is a testament to this period.

Palladian revival aside, Bath is, of course, most famously known for its Roman baths. “As every English school boy knows”, Romans invaded England in 43AD, and they wasted no time (re)discovering the UK’s only hot springs and setting up a temple around it. Unlike their smelly 18th c. counterparts (complete with lice-filled wigs!), the Romans actually used the baths to clean themselves daily, as well as as a social venue. After their fill of steam rooms, their slaves would oil them up and then scrape off their sweat and dirt with a razor-sharp strigil (seemingly still a pleasant experience?!). And, a dive into the cold pools would finish off the experience.

Coincidently (?!), like the year of invasion, there are 43 minerals in Bath spa water. Even though the baths fell in and out of fashion over their 2000 year history, people never stopped making pilgrimages to Bath to seek its healing waters – simply to sit in the pools, but also to drink the water by the gallon as part of the ‘cure’. Leprosy-sufferers were common visitors, so you can imagine the state of the baths... Our (cynical) guide knew of only one proven effect of the water: laxative.

As we headed up to The Circus and Royal Crescent, the city’s most prestigious addresses, the guide had us spend a lot of time imagining the smells that would have accompanied these formal buildings. With no sanitation system / neighbouring field, multi-multi-layered clothing and no bathing culture, the place and especially the people would simply have reeked. In fact, ‘buffer’ housing built adjacent to the Royal Crescent was to divert winds from that open-sewer field. All of these imaginings are in sharp contrast to the elegant building facades. Unfortunately, without a wide angle lens / helicopter, I could not capture the full crescent-effect.

It is interesting to note that the architects of the time were only concerned with the front facades and left the tradesmen free to build anything they wanted in the back, and this led to the expression: “Queen Anne in the front, Mary Anne in the back”. Also, a wonderful feature of almost all houses in Bath (and only few in London) is the basement terrace. Originally the kitchen would have opened on to these outdoor spaces fenced at sidewalk level. Now, they are used as entrance gardens for daylit basement apartments.

We finished off our first day relaxing at Thermae Bath Spa where towel rental cost more than our Ikea towels(!), but it was worth it. Only a few years old, it is the only way to enjoy the hot springs now. A rooftop pool offered great views of the cityscape and powerful jets turned our tired muscles to mush. We alternated between this pool and the blissful, intoxicating heat and scents of the steam rooms: mint and sandalwood. We stayed long enough to enjoy the moon in the night sky and subsequently missed the bus back to the hostel. Much refreshed, the steep, long walk back wasn’t so bad. We even saw a rat on the way – how Victorian!

The next morning, we headed to nearby Stonehenge. There was apparently the potential for seeing crop circles along the winding roads on the way, but it seems university students / ufos have not been out lately. We did, however, see a giant horse carved into chalk hills hundreds of years ago, ancient burial mounds and the first thatched cottages since arriving.

The sky was appropriately grey and eerie for a visit to Stonehenge. The stone circles of this World Heritage site are ~4000 years old. Looking at the stone configurations, it is easy to associate mastery and mystery with Stonehenge. Our visit was solemn as we stood and contemplated the why and how of these structures.



We spent the afternoon exploring Bath Abbey and the Roman Baths. Bath Abbey has an impressive interior space equivalent to 8-storeys crowned with intricate fan vaulting. Its facade has curious depictions of angels making their way up and down ladders to heaven (although, we originally thought the upside down ones were fallen angels!).









The Roman Baths are part of a large museum complex that has organized all of its archaeological findings exactly where they would have been in Roman times – a kind of full-scale model in the making. The earthy ceiling drips and humidity is one of their greatest preservation challenges. You emerge from these subterranean foundations and arrive at the open-air Great Bath. It is a rich experience of history and society.










We ended our stay by downing a full serving of Bath spa water - hopefully treated since its days of leprosy and other contagions. When in Rome (sort of)...

The Dragon's Ball

Now I know I told you all we were going to a concert last Friday and that I'd write about it on Saturday, but I didn't say which Saturday, so technically I'm still keeping my word. The crushing-sludge-schizo-mathcore band was called Ivy's Itch, and while they may not be destined for fame and fortune, (although of course you never know) they were entertaining. Here's the poster that got my attention:

Unfortunately (I guess), Elephant Vs. Leopard were a no-show, but their spot was filled by Andy K and his "stupid tech-noize." If you put Mario Bros, KMFDM, and Victor Borge in a blender, you might have an idea of what we saw. Video-gamey bleeps and bloops, called Gabba, were mixed with heavily distorted guitars and electric drums, topped off with a tiny cymbal, a floor tom, a cowbell, and a performer wearing a t-shirt that said "I need more cowbell!" Loud? Yea. Abrasive? Yup. Cliché? Rather. Entertaining? Definitely.

At last Ivy's Itch came on and at first I was a little unsure. Even two pints of Guinness hadn't taken the edge off of the lead singer's screech. The guitars were full and heavy, though, and the sludge portion of the compound genre title was coming through loud and clear. The drummer, one of a surprisingly large number of Englishmen who look like Melissa's brother Phil, kept a tight pace, but was essentially rocking a typical 4/4 beat. I began to think I had been duped by clever marketing when the second song began with a terrific crunch and a mind-bending rhythm shift. I spent the next twenty minutes or so rocking hard in my chair and picking out the different elements the had warranted such an ambitiously named style.

Sadly the band's set was cut short by technical difficulties with the bass. Somehow the guitarist, whom I suspect had the lion's share of the talent, was able to make it work, but the bass player was unable to get a sound out of it. The singer asked the crowd if there was a spare bass in the house and, when there wasn't, she simply said "Well, we're f&%ed then. Good night." How punk rock.

The Dragon's Ball, the event that hosted these two acts, happens the first Friday of every month. On top of that, there are at least two other pubs besides the Green Dragon within spitting distance of our place that regularly have live music. I expect, therefore, that I shall have plenty of opportunity to hone my music reviewing skills and you, dear readers, have the privilege of being my guinea pigs. Comments, criticisms, and questions are most welcome.

(Mental note for the next review: a band roster and a set-list would probably be helpful...)

Up for Air

Ok, so I started this post under the gun at the library, but then I ran out of time. Again. So we went over to the Carphone Warehouse and throttled the counter guy until he gave us mobile broadband to take home. Or something like that. (Actually he was very nice.) Anyway, now I can complete this post at my leisure, from the comfizzy of my own hizzy. This post will mostly be about my first week at school. Tales of the Dragon's Ball and Clarke's in Bath will follow shortly.

So I've already got my first week of teaching behind me and, although I've only got a partial timetable so far, I'm feeling a little breathless. The school's been great - there's a lot to learn, but the staff are all really friendly and there's a really positive vibe in the staff room. The students are less excited than we are to be back at school, but once the extra-curricular stuff starts rolling in earnest, I'm sure they'll come around. :)
As for my school, it's a pretty typical urban high school with 1200 kids packed into a building meant for 800. In a lot of ways it's like schools back home, except that there are interactive white boards in almost every room and all the kids walk around in jackets and ties. The kids get the cutest gleam of jealousy in their eyes when I tell them that most schoolchildren in Canada wear pretty much whatever they want to school.
My actual job is still being hashed out - my timetable is beyond light at the moment - so I've had lots of time to get used to they school, the rules, etc. So far I've got three groups of Year 7 kids (roughly equivalent to grade 7 in Quebec) and I'm sharing a Year 9 'form,' which is basically homeroom - we take attendance, check uniforms and equipment, and read announcements. With a few exceptions, the kids are generally very sweet and sometimes almost nauseatingly cute.
My timetable should be filling up soon enough, but right now it's crazy - a full-time load is 26 classes per week, but I only have three. Over the next week or two, teachers will be identifying students in their classes who could use some extra help with English and they'll be sent over to me. Thankfully I'm not being stiffed on my paychecks, or at least it doesn't look like I am - the first one lands in my bank account on Friday. Fingers crossed!! In the meantime, I'm spending my time patrolling the hallways, getting to know the kids, and covering/supporting classes as needed.
Everything is rolling along nicely for now. Things will obviously change quite a bit once my timetable (we don't really do 'schedules' so much here) fills up, and I may be singing rather a different tune in a couple of weeks, but for now I get up in the morning with a spring in my step, and I come home with a smile on my face.

Out and About – A Postscript to Tom’s Traffic Update Instalment

Streets are narrow and bike lanes almost invisible! Somehow, the large double-decker buses and even articulated buses manage to expertly manoeuvre through them. In the relatively frequent instances where two vehicles meet and cannot possibly pass each other, reverse is a common direction. The subtleties of right-of-way in these circumstances are beyond me for now.

With no stop signs and only inherent yields at every corner, the pedestrian has no priority. Crosswalks (with no traffic lights) do, however, work – don’t try this at home! But, at more major streets, it often takes three pedestrian traffic lights to cross the street in its entirety! Jaywalking is almost forced upon you. There are still quite a few things to figure out before this feels comfortable, though - do trams stop at traffic lights?...

People park in both directions on either side of the street. This is not helpful when you are trying to reprogram your mind to think ‘left’. It probably involves reversing...(?) If you happen to have a small piece of land in front of your house, though, this is likely where you park your car - and not plant a garden - often blocking the door.

Public transit:
- Hooray for trains! – they are speedy and more frequent than metros at home – 15 minutes to downtown... but which platform? Thankfully, we have not boarded the wrong train yet.
- The bus to downtown, however, was a West Island experience – it took longer than expected by the least direct route possible. The double-decker novelty managed to lessen some of the frustration.
- To put it mildly, the Underground is not ventilated. It is a vacuum – it even sucks out the air from your lungs you came in with. It is especially bad on a hot day if you require breathing to survive.
Note: ‘Subway’ signs lead to underground passageways and not the Underground.

And, here's the photo of the 'towtruck' Tom promised:

Domestic Living

I guess it’s fitting for me to write a post about domesticity while Tom is off at his first day of teaching and I’m at home (looking for a job, of course?!). No worries, though, I’m far from playing housewife.

I’m including photos of the flat for those interested or those wishing to scope out the facilities for their future visit. You’ll likely notice the spartan furnishings, but we’ll sort that out before the first guests arrive. The place is already on its way to becoming an IKEA-special - although, unfortunately, this does not likely jive with my usual tendency towards sustainable purchases…

Flat Stats:

- 1 living room (reception in Brit speak) / kitchen, 1 bedroom & 1 bathroom
- 4th floor
- Double-glazed windows – seemingly enough of a rarity that it figures into rental ads
- Location: Maximum 10 minute walk to High (main) Street, train station, pubs (naturally), main shopping centre, grocers, cinema, great park for running, library.

We live in Croydon, a former village, but now swallowed up by Greater London. To my happy surprise, there’s lots of greenery. You can tell from our view that it’s mostly small-scale development and that we’re a mean highrise. It’s a new building and comes with that new building smell which just means it’s not VOC-free. Nice enough, but poorly planned – was the structure coordinated last by any chance? The column in the middle of our bedroom leaves just enough usable space to squeeze in a bed. The building design also seems to treat the first four floors as second-rate tenants with a back entrance and separate, tiny lobby/elevator landing. This is either some lingering Victorian snobbery or (more likely) the fact that there are two building owners.

Another oversight is the absence of storage – this is, at least, typically architect-y of them. I agree that we should not have cupboards large enough for items to disappear into never again to be seen, but, since the Fall of Man, we are required to have at least certain possessions... You can see our solution in the photos. Tom remarked that he feels like he’s shopping in a store when he gets dressed in the morning with the clothes rack and glass shelves.

Odd bits: Switches are on in the down position and off in the up position. Outlets have switches! Does this mean we should fear the 220V or the electric bill? We’ve generally developed a healthy (?) paranoia about turning off switches or the gas (for hot water and heat) while we await the inevitable utility bills in the mail. On the plus side, water pressure is great – something I remembered being problematic when I was here 10+ years ago. The water, however, is lime-filled and needs filtering to avoid an unappetizing white coating on tea...

Other odd bits: I need a stool to access the bath. All the doors have door closers – why? – so, we have them all wedged open. There is a mixer tap in the kitchen, but not in the bathroom – I don’t get it (I’ve been told you fill the sink to wash your face, but this seems very inefficient). We have ‘fobs’ to open the front gate and door (works like a key card). As a sort of mixed blessing, we have our own washing machine / dryer – yes, everything happens in the same chamber, but this combo appliance takes 4.5 hours (or longer!) for a full wash-dry cycle (standard according to the guy at the appliance shop on the corner)!! More concerns over electricity costs... At least the brilliant integrated clothesline over the bathtub saves us the 3-hour drying cycle.

We’re still sorting through much administration over the flat – big delays and confusion just to get the post box (more Brit speak) key. And once we finally opened the box, we were immediately harassed by months worth of letters from the London South West Enforcement Division of TV Licensing – a license to simply watch cable-free TV. It should be interesting trying to prove that we don’t actually watch TV – in this rare circumstance they must visit the premises and confirm that we have neither the means nor intention of watching TV – I’ll let you know how that goes over.

So, we finally caved in and got a mobile phone. It seems difficult to maintain my anti-cell phone position now, but I am still and particularly anti- I-have-a-free-moment-and-instead-of-letting-an-independent-thought-enter-my-head-I-must-play-on-my-phone. How uninspired! (please do not send hate mail, I acknowledge the loneliness of this opinion).

And, I’m in a bit of recycling distress since last Friday. After a chat with the friendly neighbourhood garbageman, I discovered that the green bins and black bins are all equally rubbish bins contrary to what the landlord told us – we don’t have recycling! And since they don’t have deposits on bottles here, this means we’ll be storing incredible amounts of recyclables until this gets sorted out. I’ve got a call in to the City and am expecting a visit from one of their environmental agents this week...

Finally, a warning for anyone thinking of renting over here: it’s called inventory madness. Well, that’s what I call it. Your lease comes with an elaborate document listing the appliances, built-in furniture, windows, doors, door hardware, finishes, etc and the state they are in, including everything from cracks and chips to fingerprints!! It’s expected that the place remain as you found it – surely I can wash away the fingerprints??!