Slice of Rome under the English skies

A famous legendary story around the city of Bath, Somerset in South-West of England is that the first human activity evidence was found during 8,000 years BC. The place had an air of mystery around it, with steam emerging from a green, hot, lush swampy area. Prince Bladud father of King Lear, had contracted leprosy and was cured after bathing in the hot muddy waters. In gratitude, Bladud founded the City of Bath around the springs in 863BC.

Inside the Rome Bath

Gorgeous Roman architecture

Outside view

                       

Today, in the 21^st century these springs continue to draw the curious wanderer, artists, lovers and poets. And why not? With its quaint high street, cobbled lanes, velvety gardens, niche boutiques and Roman honey-coloured buildings feasting your eyes in every corner, the beauty of Bath has to be seen to be believed.
A UNESCO world heritage site, Bath was named as “Aquae Sulis” by the Romans in AD 43. Much before Britain went around making colonies, Romans invaded and colonised Britain. In AD 70, the Romans built a reservoir around the hot springs before building a sophisticated series of baths and a temple dedicated to the goddess Sulis Minerva. As a religious shrine and bathing complex, Aquae Sulis attracted visitors from across Britain and Europe, making Bath a popular destination.

Julius Caesar was a regular visitor

Ancient artifacts

Goddess Minerva

With a very distinct air to it, Bath is very different from other English cities. A great walking city, it is a slice of Rome in England. Bath has many attractions but I could only manage the Roman Bath and the Prior Park Landscape Garden.

Terrace View

Green and hot

Holy Spring

The quaint neighbourhood

Inside the Roman Bath museum, I learnt how the seemingly simple ritual of bathing can be an important social and economic activity. Well below the modern street level, the Roman Baths are known for four main features: the Sacred Spring, the Roman Temple, the Roman Bath House and the Museum.




The bath complex is a remarkable example of engineering as well as Roman art and architecture. Once completed in the 4th Century, it housed five healing hot baths, swimming pools and cold rooms, sweat rooms heated by an ingenious early plumbing system, and the Great Bath at the centre, where the surrounding statues of the Gods would float eerily in the clouds of steam.

The honey colored buildings

Bath Abbey

Bathing, during that period, was a ceremonial ritual where you socialised with people and even carried on business. Today, the museum gives you a taste of Roman life with actors dressed in various characters around the bath area.


The buildings above street level date from the 19th century and are made in the Georgian style. From the Roman Bath, I went to the lush-green Prior Park Landscape Garden, just across the Roman Bath (the city is not a very big city). An intimate 18^th century landscape garden, it gives you sweeping views of the city. An ideal picnic spot, it is a place where you can get lost with anyone or yourself.

Palladian Bridge

Built by entrepreneur Ralph Allen with advice from poet Alexander Pope and Lancelot Brown, it is also very close to the famous Palladian Bridge, one of four in the world. A stream tinkling with clear, cold blue water breaks the harmony of the green landscape.


From here you can clearly see the Bath Abbey, an Anglican Parish church founded in the 7^th century. A fine example of perpendicular Gothic architecture, the Abbey is characterised by sculptures of angels climbing to heaven, peal of ten bells, 52 windows and a large stained glass window. But its beauty lies in the fact that it easily blends in with other Roman buildings in the area.

Greenery everywhere

I sat there for what seemed like forever and everywhere I turned my heart skipped a beat by the beauty of this magnificent city. Needless to say, I felt a pang leaving the place!




Until later dear Bath.

Scaling the Snowdon, taming the beast

The lovely snow capped mountain was staring at me quite audaciously. It was teasing me to come and experience it up, close and personal. I was in two minds—should I, should I not?? That it was a training ground for legends like Edmund Hillary was not lost to me. And there was that mind boggling number—1,085 meter high. It makes Snowdon mountain range in Wales the highest range in the area. It wasn’t a mere tease but flirting with danger for lazy city dwellers like me. So again the question remained—Should I, Should I not??

The husband prodded. I rolled up my sleeves, let out a small sigh and decided it was time to man up. And off we went. We gingerly started our trek on this Alpine topography. The path we chose was easy but still less used because the mountains can be a bit tricky with snow. Perhaps, it was this prospect of danger that kept us going. That the only way is up and if we falter…....well we did not. With each passing stretch the lovely village of Snowdon seemed like a mere dot. The landscape of bluish-white Mountains was beautifully broken by glistening, icy lakes and the mountain train which takes you through the range.

Snowdonia has its fair share of legends. Its Welsh name Yr Wyddfa means burial place and legend has it that the cairn at the top is the grave of Rhita Fawr a particularly fierce giant who had a cloak made out of the beards of all the kings he'd killed. Listening to these stories, we kept with our pace. As you go closer, the gentle U of the Snowdon Mountains stare right at you, the “U” was formed because of glaciers that were in the area some 18,000 years ago.

After about five hours we reached the peak, which was perpetually playing hide and seek, despite reaching the top of the mountain. The snowy wind was billowing with full thrust. It’s only with lot of willpower you try to move up to reach the peak. Finally, we reached the peak. And it was like experiencing God, the wind doesn’t kiss here it bites you. You reach top and you feel very humbled. There’s a reason why it’s lonely at the top because no man or beast is quite strong enough for nature. If the peaks decided to unleash its fury; only the unseen God can save you. But then the view, the calmness of mind, the agony of the untrained muscle is worth all the efforts.

Mountains are not to be underestimated. If going up is challenging, coming down is equally is tricky. With each step I gingerly took I felt the snow melting right under my feet, the surface stirring me a bit. It was demanding every ounce of attention. Meditation! We reach down in about two hours passing through hordes of pretty little yellow flowers and school of sheep munching away oblivious to anything.

When you reach down, it’s a moment of realization--that  Earth can really hold you down.

It’s strangely calming.

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Worth Remembering

             The World is a book and those who do not travel read only one page: Saint Augustine

The mystical Stonehenge

As a kid, I have often been mesmerized by this structure, staring at me from the  computer screen. So, it was only natural that I visit this mystical site which is just an hour from my home in Hampshire. This prehistoric monument, located between the countryside of Wiltshire and plains of Salisbury is one of the most iconic structures of present times. Believed to be the centre of Neolithic and Bronze Age monuments; it is certainly a destination for the curious wanderer and history lovers. From the rubbles of the plains, you will notice a circular structure where bluish rocks stand rather tall breaking the harmony of the green plains but lending it more charm. Welcome, to the enigmatic Stonehenge. 

 

As you go closer, the site draws some serious awe. True history aficionados would love this place. The first stones were erected way back between 3000BC to 2000BC. Completed and restored in many phases from then on; today the structure is listed among the World Heritage Sites. The rocks are said to be Bluestone and Sarsen. Folklore and legend abound this place. Some called it the one of the most ancient burial grounds; for some it was the place of worship while some termed it as healing rocks. The rocks were once called Giant’s Dance and were believed to be brought from Africa and Ireland for its healing properties. It is also believed to be a site where followers of Neopaganism practiced religious rituals in the twentieth century. Whatever be the belief, no one really can tell how the rocks appeared here in the first place. There are also rumours of UFO sightings here!

 

Just outside the main entrance to the Stonehenge is the Heel Stone or Friar’s heel; a rough, giant stone which leans towards the ground. An interesting folk take around this stone is that the devil brought many stones from a woman in Ireland. While he was a carrying around the place, he stated that no one will find how these rocks came. A Friar then audaciously challenged him and said only he thinks so. The devil in his fury threw one of the stones which struck the friar in his heel giving birth to the Heel stone.  

 

Despite these interesting stories, many feel the entire place to a bit of a dampener. Why? Because there is nothing else here but an explanation would be that it is a sensitive area, an area which is still researched time and again for Neolithic and Bronze Age cultures. Hence, it should stay away from “development” as much as possible. While some call the place rocks randomly scattered I cannot help but wonder if we ever made a similar structure in today’s modern age will it able to stand the test of time?

Food for thought

                                             Not all those who wander are lost. J.R.R Tolkien

Southsea, Portsmouth. Another trip to the sea side

The skies are bright again but the mind knows no relief. I am bleary eyed, ridden with insomnia and a doubtful mind; I look for a quick out from the mundaneness. Sometimes, escapism brings a great joy, calmness and clarity of mind. Introspection, I call it.  As I have said many times in this blog, ocean and beaches is my favourite spot when riddled with the various obscurities of life. The beauty of the ocean, its greatness, the sound of waves lashing against the rocks calms me, uplifts me, inspires me, awes me and definitely humbles me. 

With the rays of sun slowly teasing my senses and my heart fluttering at the prospect of yet another new discovery I step out hopeful and head towards Southsea beach in the water front city of Portsmouth.  The sea comes in many tantalizing forms as I discovered. Here there is no sand but the beach is made of many  different types of stones, scattered and littered. I gingerly walk on them collecting some which catch my attention. They are pink, jade, sea green and some with a bit of sea weed on them. Aaah…the joys of finding something new out! Life would be so much more interesting if each day was different than the last. 

 In the horizon, somewhere where the sky meets the sea line, I see piers. There are two piers, I am told. The south parade pier and the Clarence Pier; the sites are now amusement centers. But to me from this distance the sight looks like a picture perfect postcard evoking great wonderment. 

People come and go. Some are running, some are cycling, and many are flying kites. It lends an added charm to this already wonderful tapestry. As for me, I am once again lost in my bubble. I am at the safe place where the sea and its waves is my biggest comfort. Once again, the sea has succeeded in wrapping me around its safe arms. I feel uplifted, a tiny smile plays on my lips and the former frown lines are disappearing. The sea whispers to me to march on with head held high and that everything will be alright. 

 

The dark clouds which were hovering around me are long gone and I am at a beautiful, happy place. 

Just me, my thoughts and of course the ever calming sea.

Thought of the day

                                             My name is Bond. Vagabond.