Think Visibility: Why I Traveled 15,272 Kms For My First Conference — Part 4
Welcome To York
York was truly beautiful. Being a touristy place, I was quite worried that the modernization would have taken away from its rich history and culture, but I was really impressed to see how much preservation and care was taken to maintain the look and feel of the city. It didn’t take much effort to imagine dukes, princes and princesses making their way down the main street in their guilded carriages.
I could see William Wallace and his gnarly crew as they poured through the gate, and I’m pretty sure I could imagine Robin Hood and his Merry Men cautiously making their way through the city, disguised by heavy woollen cloaks that have seen better days. Of course, that could just be the lack of coffee.
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Our first stop in the great city of York was the Minster. Now, if you’ve never been inside a European cathedral, I strongly suggest you take a virtual tour of one online. The cascading arches and intricate stain windows stand in stark contrast to the cold stone floors, many of which mark the resting place for a religious leader, member of royalty or an elite member of society.
They’re cryptic and have a way of giving you a sombre, reflective feeling that usually seems to stick with you long after you’re rescued by the sunshine. They’re simply stunning pieces of architecture that have to be experienced to be appreciated, and that’s truly what it is: an experience.
We were fortunate enough to arrive at about the same time as a German choir, which added a rich warmth to the place as we wandered through the exhibit and identified familiar names. It definitely fed the musician in me anyway. The harmonies were spotless and not a single voice waivered the entire time. I was a bit concerned that I could possibly fall to my doom in the tower, but once I realized this wasn’t the case, I was quite disappointed that we missed the last tour. No matter. There were plenty more sights to keep us amused. It just means we’ll have to make a repeat visit!
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We walked The Walls, which prompted quite a bit of chatter about the huge drop off the side, the odd sprinkling of fence, and the fact that I suggested we bring Carolyn in a wheelchair.
We walked past the remnants of the great castle, which time has withered away to nothing more than an empty shell of the great palace it must have once been. We visited the famous Shambles, and as we went, Tim fed my imagination with a multitude of historical tidbits and tales of what used to be. Of particular interest was something that also has a reputation for being the smallest in the country.
Whip-Ma-Wop-Ma-Gate or Whitnourwhatnourgate in Anglo-Saxon is the smallest street with the longest name. A whopping 3.5 metres! Believe it or not, that’s what I’m standing in front of. (It was windy! Give me a break! I hate pictures…)
It was definitely a full day by the time we got back to the flat. My feet had their own heartbeat thanks to walking on uneven stones, months of sitting on my backside, and an obscene amount of climbing. I was tired, but content. I’m sure I dreamed of knights and ladies that night. Oh! I also had the most delicious lamb sandwich. Should have gotten two!
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As if they hadn’t spoiled me enough, Tim and Carolyn managed to outdo themselves by giving me a trip to Harrogate’s Turkish Baths. Talk. About. Heavenly! Well, I had to get over a few things first.
My primary concern was my terrifying fear of water. I can’t stand it. Just the thought of that water getting close to my neck makes my blood run cold even now. If that wasn’t scary enough, I have to do it in a swimsuit! I know right? I’m sure Karyn Fleeting heard the screams coming from the locals for miles before they ever reached her. Blame my proper Canadian upbringing, but I’m just not very comfortable with public nudity. It just feels…odd and makes me horribly self-conscious, and in a swimsuit, I may as well be naked cuz…never mind. Let’s just say, it’s not a good thing for any of us.
Hot and Cold
Tim, being the smart guy that he is, knew better than to get involved in this, so he dropped Carolyn and I off and headed to the pub. After registering, Carolyn and I were eventually escorted off to change into our suits, get our instructions & tour the spa.
The first step in this mysterious set of female rituals is a rest in the steam room. Perfect, I thought. The heavy steam was just what I needed to get used to the idea of wandering around half naked in public. I eventually started to relax until I looked to my left. I was starting to think the lack of coffee was hitting me worse than I thought.
I looked again. Then looked a third time to make sure I really was seeing what I thought I was seeing before blushing like stupid because I realized I just looked three times at what I looked at. Let’s just put it this way…this girl was just as much of an…uh…enthusiast as I was shy. I wasn’t sure if I should ask her name, so I never did catch it, but let’s just call her Cheeky, shall we?
Anyway, by this point, Carolyn and I were getting pretty restless and were ready to go on to the next step, which is fondly referred to by the staff as the ‘Plunge Pool’. In Canada, it’s eerily similar to what we call a ‘polar bear dip’. Before I get to the excitement of that, however, let me introduce you to a fun game Carolyn and I played called ‘Surprise!’
In this fun little exercise, we have to get under the shower and rinse off. But here’s the fun part: ready? You don’t know if it’s hot or cold! It was a bit like doing a blind taste test, but with a lot more sharp inhaling and cringing.
We left the showers, hung up our towels, and braced ourselves for the inevitable experience. And holy crap was it cold! I wasn’t sure if I was shaking more from fear of the water or the cold. We were supposed to stay there until our bodies reached the temperature of the water, but I was ready to get out. Good thing too. My legs were all rubbery from the heat change and threatening to give out on me at any second.
We then proceeded to the first of three hot rooms. We roasted there, played Surprise, froze in the plunge pool, and got into the second room, with Cheeky right behind. Once we couldn’t take sitting still any longer the heat, we played Surprise, took the plunge and ended up in the last room, which was held at a steady 160C heat.
Carolyn and I both noted that, even though it didn’t seem like we had really done anything, we both felt terribly relaxed. We agreed that, next time we go, we’re going to order massages. If you ever make a trip there, be sure to get it.
We collected the lost boy from the pub and walked over to the famous Betty’s Tea Room.
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Again, being in a fancy place like this is nothing new, as it wasn’t my first time, but it was my first official, lady-like English tea. Well, screw the tea, I had coffee! The best coffee I’ve ever tasted. Hands down! Tim and Carolyn also ordered these towers of odd looking sandwiches (with no crusts! *sniggle*), treats, and goodies.
I have to admit that it really was tons of fun. I wasn’t sure if I was going to like some of it and was worried I WOULD like it if I tried it. It took most of the tea to relax enough, but those towers of treats! Wow! I couldn’t believe it was all for me! I don’t think I’ve eaten that much sugar since my mom left me at home alone with an unattended brown sugar pail.
In the end, I decided I could definitely get used to that kind of thing. It was also decided that I’d need a butler of my own and I’d need to marry a rich old guy who could afford to send me to Harrogate and Betty’s Tea Room on a weekly basis. (By the way, the Turkish Baths left my hair and skin so silky smooth and soft! It was great! You had to be there…Anyway…)
We did all sorts of other things I didn’t mention here like going to my first 3D movie (Toy Story 3!) and I don’t think we could have fit in any more activities if we tried. But, before I knew it, I was back in *shudder* London being kicked sent back to reality home.
I cried, Carolyn cried, and while Tim would never admit it in a million years, I’m pretty sure he would have cried too if no one else was around. (We’ll just let him maintain that macho image. You and I know different 
)
Again, I just want to thank Tim and Carolyn for everything, from the bottom of my little maple leaf shaped heart. It was truly the trip of a lifetime, and one I’ll remember forever, particularly when I’m old and losing my marbles. I’ll never be able to repay your kindnesses, but I’ll certainly do my best.
This trip was also highly educational for someone who has lived much of her life in the Canadian Prairies. Sarah Carling, this is where you’ll want to pay close attention. I know you’re moving to the city, but there are still some important things you need to know about us Canadians.
You see, this might come as a shock to you, but you’re weird! So, in an attempt to help make your move a little easier, I’ve created you a ‘how to tell the difference between a Brit and a Canadian’ guide you’ll have to check out tomorrow.
Other Posts In the Series:
A Canadian in the UK: An Introduction (Part 1)
ThinkVisibility Conference Coverage (Part 2)
A Day Spent In Leeds (Part 3)
Brits VS Canucks: What I Discovered (Part 5)
September 22, 2010 at 6:35 am | Lighter Side | No comment
