Magnificent York

Hello everyone! Yes, miracle of miracles, I am alive! Sorry for not blogging for almost two months...my only excuse is university classes starting and a lack of interesting things happening. I'm finally getting around to telling y'all about our adventures in the city of York even though it was almost three weeks ago. It was that amazing that I remember most everything despite being sick as a dog for the first day. I will say though, my pictures do York more justice than I think my words ever could.

With an early 8 am start, we began our journey north for a three day stay in the city. The highlight of the six hour coach(bus in British) was our lunch break. We had packed our lunch, making our own sandwiches, and decided to follow in the footsteps of one Readingite group by having fun with Dr.Franke. Instead of writing our real names, we chose our own. They ranged from Oliver (who's response was 'Please sir, may I have some more), Aslan, Eric Bloodaxe, Queen Ermengarde, and MC Hannah. As for myself, I couldn't resist and labeled mine 'Arwen Undomiel'. We found it highly amusing.

Upon arriving in York, Dr.Franke took us on a short tour of the city, which has a surprising navigable labyrinth of streets and little connecting alleyways known in local lingo as 'snickelways'. Personally, I like that word better. Hiking part of the city's surviving Roman/medieval wall was a pretty cool experience with wonderful views of York Minster and the city itself. Afterwards, we checked into our hostel, Ace York, which is actually a Georgian townhouse. It's really beautiful inside, with a gorgeous staircase and Rococo ceiling. The thirteen girls stayed in the spare ballroom. Pretty fancy, right?

Anyway, the next morning was another early start, but a pleasant one. You see, Dr.Franke knows the city quite well and thus knows how to get the good stuff. In this case, the good stuff was fresh, high quality artisan bread for cheep. In York, there's a small side street, almost alley really, with some of the best food and souvenirs in York called the Shambles that is a must visit. On certain days, a small shop, unmarked except for a red shield with a diagonal gold cross on it, sells this bread and om gosh it was amazing. I got a cheese herb roll and I ate it throughout the day, not wanting to finish it.

I had to hide my tasty bread in my bag soon after getting it though, because right after that, we went on our tour of the York Minster. I won't bore you with the history of it, but to give you a glimpse of just how impressive it is, the cathedral took over 250 years to construct and has 128 massive stained glass windows. The inside is absolutely magnificent. The ceilings soar to an unbelievable height, especially when you consider it was built in the Middle Ages. Almost every section of the space is full of carvings, some incredibly detailed and as small as my finger. Despite the awe you feel with the elegant kings, tombs, and history, you also get a very human sense. Some of the carvings and windows are very funny. For example, the Monkey Window.

If you look at the bottom, starting from the right, there is a sick monkey being checked by monkey doctor. In the middle, the monkey has died and his monkey friends are taking him to be buried. Finally, a cock presides over the funeral. How did monkeys get in York, you ask? Apparently, because York was heavily involved in shipping, monkeys sailors kept as pets would often escape into the city. Another interesting bit in the cathedral I didn't get a picture of was a carving of Eleanor of Castile. Apparently, no one in England really liked her, so a sculptor captured her in a small carving with an eagle biting her nose off. Very nice.

Once done with the Minster, we set off to York's other historical highlight: Clifford's Tower. It looks beautiful, a simple round keep sitting on a steep, grassy hill, but this just belies it's bloody past. In 1190, the citizens of York massacred the city's Jewish population who were taking refuge inside the keep by setting it ablaze. Later on, Edward hung Roger de Clifford from the walls for treason, hence the name. Despite this, it stills provides a very nice view of the city from atop the walls.

Towards evening, we set off to Fountains Abbey. Again, I'll spare you the history lesson and just tell you that this once enormous abbey suffered the fate of many abbeys during Henry VIII's split from the Church, eventually being sold off and all but torn apart. What's left though is still a breath-taking sight though, especially since we had the privilege of seeing it illuminated at night.

As you walk through the empty vaults and down what were once the side aisles and high alter, you can barely begin to fathom what this place must have looked like in it's prime. I honestly feel I cannot do justice to what the abbey made me feel. It was incredibly sad and chilling to see what this magnificent house of God had become, but at the same time, it had an undeniably sacred feeling. I felt goosebumps when I entered the bell tower where they were playing recordings of Gregorian chants. The holiness of it literally forced me to my knees and pray. It had that kind of power, something I've never felt before nor can I truly describe. Despite these feelings and the heartache I felt for the past, I couldn't help thinking at the same time that for all the bad we humans do, all the pain we inflict, there are some things we do right.

 If we can build something whose beauty and meaning are retained even through deliberate destruction and the weathering of time, we have to still have some good in us somewhere. Even in its decay, the abbey was beautiful. The original ceiling would have a hard time competing with the awe-inspiring night sky, covering the golden columns. Grassy floors and empty windows held some of their original magnificence, both because of their ruin and because they force the mind to imagine how they were before. Tombs of forgotten people who dreamed of eternal remembrance, now too weather worn to read, live on in anonymity in the romantic dreams of those who visit.

Oh, wow, sorry for going so philosophical on you all. On to more mundane stuff, okay?

The next day we largely had to ourselves after a visit to York's Viking museum, Jorvik, with its Disney like animatronic Viking village tour. I set off on mine, first heading back to the Shambles. There's an amazing market there, full of cheap food, clothes, knick-knacks, crafts, and almost everything else. I bought myself a much needed coat, gloves, and a fresh bun bigger than my palm. I also found a small deli and completed my small lunch feast with local cheese and an apple. Armed with my lunch, I set off to explore the city through its Cat tour. What is the Cat tour?

People in York have loved cats since the Middle Ages when they believed putting up statues or sculptures of cats would chase away rats and the Plague. Not many survive, but the tradition of good luck cats thrives in modern York. Thus, the city has a self-guided tour where the person tries to find the twenty cat sculptures as they wind their way around the city, map provided of course. It was actually a really fun way to explore York, even if some of the cats were rather hard to find. Yes, I did find all twenty. It gave me a sense of accomplishment for the day.

So, thus ends my experiences in York. It is definitely one of my favorite cities and I want to go back before I leave England. Other than this trip, I don't have much else to report. University or uni, is going well. Classes are challenging (except Chinese), but very fun and rewarding. The professors are engaging and amazing. Seriously, my linguistics professor, who's brilliant, ended my class last week by letting us watch a kazoo rendition of a KISS song as a demonstration of controlling pitch as an aspect of language. It was amazing. With that, I'll end this very late blog and get back to researching my several papers. Until next time.