I have no idea how people generally refer to Bath, UK, but it will forever have a type of white and golden glow about it in my mind. Perhaps this is because we arrived there mid afternoon, and walked about during the waning hours of the day. The city has much of the charm of the more historic parts of London or Paris, but without the business of either or the language barrier of the latter. After about and hour's walk, I determined we should move there.
After a rather delayed train ride from hectic and bustling London, we deposited our bags at our lodging, then ventured out again to catch a glimpse of the interior of Bath Abbey and the Roman baths. We were lucky enough to join one of the last "tower tours" of the day, viewing the interior of the belltower and appreciating the city even more with an evening, rooftop-view of its charm. One of my favorite aspects of the tour, however, was that we were the youngest in the group by about 30 years, and the other "tourists" were British, some even from Bath! Providing the excursion with wit seemed to be the order of the day for several of them, which helped keep the trek up the 240-some odd stairs a less arduous task.
We rushed off post-tour to sneak in the gates of the baths just before closing. The museum artifacts were more fascinating than I'd have expected, containing many coins, pieces of jewelry, and curses found in the ruins. Patrons of the baths would occassiom
ally have things stolen from the "locker room" if they had no slave to guard their belongings, and so they would write curses on small parchments and throw them into the sacred pool, begging the goddess to punish the thief.
Afterward we wandered up the road to catch the Royal Crescent before the sun set entirely, then shopped for some groceries for dinner. The next morning saw us catching a train bound for Oxford.
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