20/05/07: Canterbury

Being a city of great historical, religious, legal and literary importance, I couldn’t leave Canterbury out of my to-do list. So today was the day for Canterbury.

There was much commotion on the way to Canterbury when someone got the lines mixed up. Everyone had to get off the train and try to board another one. There were a lot, a lot, a lot of very angry commuters. Especially those who had prams and bikes, like myself, because we had to manoeuver stairs. Lots of stairs. Good thing I discovered lifts when I came to this station with my bike yesterday! When we got to the platform to wait for the new train, the information screen said that it wouldn’t be there for at least an hour. Boy were people seething.

There was an eccentric, mad-scientist-looking older gentleman who had shared the lift with me. The bike was a self-made EV; there were reflector panels attached to every movable part on it, and if that wasn’t enough, he had at least four clip-on battery-operated LED lamps clamped tightly onto several parts of the bike. On the back was your standard metal parcel-rack, upon which was a tightly taped up brown box held down by ocky-straps. And of course, the whole ‘look’ wouldn’t be complete if he wasn’t wearing some form of tweed with a flower in his lapel!

I was busting for a pee and figured that since there was an hour, surely it’d be okay if I just nipped off to the loo really quickly? And since he already had a bike, he wouldn’t need another one. So I asked him to mind my bike while I ran off to the loo. ‘Of course!’ said he. And off I went.

What kind of a story would this be if the loo was just there? Not mine! The loo was, naturally, in the furthest recesses of the station platform. And though I hurried through the ordeal as quickly as I possibly could, when I came out, the platform was empty save for my bike propped up against one of the roof pylons. The train was there, just about to pull out. There are allocated carriages for people with bikes and wheelchairs, but I had no time to find it. I ran to my bike and went to pull open one of the doors nearest me when I heard a voice. I looked up and there was the man, sticking his head out a carriage door, holding it open for me. ‘In this one!’ he called. ‘You can put your bike here!’. So I ran and got my bike into the special carriage just as the beeps sounded for the closing of the doors.

Phew.

Needless to say, the gentleman didn’t stop talking the entire way to Canterbury. He was an inventor in his days. Helped to get the reflector lights on bikes mandatory in the UK. Ah, thought I. That at least explains his multitude of reflector lights on his bike. He asked me where I was going, and when I told him ‘Canterbury’, he took it upon himself to be my personal guide to the town. What luck! I couldn’t help but grin. When we got to Canterbury station, he had a station attendant put on a fluorescent jacket to escort us (‘she’s with me’) across the tracks to get to the other side. Then with a simple ‘follow me’, he peddled off towards the city centre. My god the man had no fear. He just peddled through oncoming traffic like there was no tomorrow. I had to learn very quickly that the only way to survive the onslaught of pedestrians, cars, busses, taxies and so on was to stay as close to him as possible. Can’t beat ’im, join ’im!

When we got into the town centre, he motioned for me to follow him into Canterbury Cathedral. Now, there are two little doors to Canterbury Cathedral. You pay to go through one as a tourist. And apparently, you walk through the other one if you’re a local parishioner – like Mr Reflector Lights was! And luckily for me, ‘She’s with me. The package there’s for Pastor X’. He showed me where I could lock my bike up by the security guards’ hut, and insisted I come to mass at 11. So I did. What better way to get to the real heart of a Cathedral than to participate in mass right? What made it all the more special was that I hadn’t been to mass in a while, and this was a sung mass. And the Canterbury Cathedral Choir, all dressed up in their purple gowns, were amazing. There were several moments where I literally forgot where I was and just drifted off with their ethereal voices.

When mass was over, I went to walk around the town, deciding to leave my bike locked up safely by the security guard’s hut at the Cathedral. The town centre was much like any other town centre that I’ve seen here so far: a quaint mixture of old and new. I wandered the streets for a while, then went to see The Canterbury Tales show. Insert cheesy grin here. It was… ah… a little corny, but good fun. Actually, it was strange because I was completely alone for the entire walk. And at some points it was a little creepy because it was very dark and the characters were pretty well replicated. Basically it’s a bit like a theme park of sorts. You’re on the pilgrimage with the rest of the gang and you walk through each of the travelers’ tales. A good experience anyway.

One of the things I had to do before I headed home was use my English Heritage membership pass for a free entry into something. So I went to St Augustine’s Abbey, which is really important because it marks the rebirth of Christianity in south England. While I was walking there, a Chinese girl asked me for directions to the abbey. I told her that I was heading there myself and that she was welcome to follow me. We talked as we walked. She was from Beijing, and was here on a study-abroad program for her Social Work degree. She had a thick American accent, suggesting that perhaps she was taught by an American or Canadian. Strangely, when we got to the abbey, she decided that she didn’t have time to see the place, and turned around and left. I never got her name.

St Augustine’s Abbey was interesting. By the time I’d walked there and around it, I was quite tired though, and I don’t think I got the full experience out of it. Once again, I was alone, and because of that, there was a decided feeling of eeriness as I wandered through the graves of past bishops and so on. The skies were cloudy and dark, and it was spitting. I left early and went home.

As an aside, England’s famous for several of its ‘whitehorses’, carvings into the chalk hills made ages ago and maintained till this day. I was unable to get to them when I went to Salisbury but there’s a white cross in my area. So I took a picture of that on the train ride home. Click here to see other photos from this set.