The White Cliffs of Dover

Bridges Crossed: 6/12 (Lambeth, Westminster, Hungerford, Waterloo, Blackfriars, and Millennium)

Train Stations: 5/10 (Liverpool Street, Waterloo, Paddington, Euston, King’s Cross) 

You may have heard that the Queen has been on her throne for 60 years. This is considered to be quite a big deal here. In her honor, nearly the whole country received Monday and Tuesday off of work to properly celebrate her. I stood for hours in the cold alongside the Thames with a million natives on Sunday, and eventually had the opportunity to climb up on the shoulders of a fellow intern to photograph the Queen standing on a barge. Or rather, a barge that the Queen was standing on, although no one could actually see her, small as she is. Strangers all around passed their cameras up to me, but I failed to take one with my own camera. 

Monday’s bank holiday was spent on Brick Lane where the vintage shopping is famous. I also saw the movie Prometheus in 3D and almost successfully hid my eyes during the scary parts.

Several weeks ago—when I was just arrived, someone mentioned to me with disdain how Americans always “want to go to Dover,” but they had no idea why. Having never once thought about Dover, I was naturally and immediately intrigued. Turns out it is a town on the English Channel, on the narrowest part, in the shadow of the famed white cliffs. It also has an almost as famous castle. Moreover, just a few stops farther on the train, is the charming seaside town of Deal, and beyond that, the medieval style town of Sandwich—famous for bread and meat combinations that have satiated travelers and schoolchildren for centuries. How could I resist these Kent delights?

Therefore, on Tuesday I bought an open return to Sandwich. Although train travel is hitting my budget hard, there are some handy features. If you return the same day that you go to a place, roundtrip will cost the same as a one-way and you can take almost any train on return. Also it is perfectly allowable to get off the train en route and get back on later on the same ticket. So by buying one ticket with open return to Sandwich, I was able to get off for 4 hours in Dover to see the cliffs and the castle, get back on and then off at Deal for 3 hours of fish and chips and a street jubilee party as well as a walk down the pier, and finally I could pop on the train for a short ride to Sandwich, stay for a few hours and then get back on the train to London that evening. It was a long day though and I was beat by the end of it.

Dover Castle is lovely and marvelously preserved. The entrance fee is steep (as was the walk up to it), but I was soon appeased by its sense of atmosphere. Someone dressed as Henry II bid me hello with a hearty: "God serve you, madam" as I walked over a drawbridge. Dover Castle has seen many battles with France, and was fixed up by King Henry II to distract his people from the fact that he had murdered Thomas Beckett, the popular Archbishop of Canterbury (Distraction! One of the best political devices--I don't think it worked too well in this case though.) Also, there are tunnels beneath the castle that were used as a hidden war hospital during WWII.

Deal was possibly my favorite stop of the day. The channel is a surprisingly aqua shade of blue and the fish and chips were the best I’ve had in England so far. Moreover I was able to witness a (in my mind) hilarious irony: How do the good people of Deal celebrate their Queen's jubilee? By wearing cowboy hats and a rollicking street party with a Johnny Cash cover band. Yes, a good ol’ Americana-style celebration of a monarch, who would’ve thought? Here is a short video I made of the party:

I almost didn't make it to Sandwich. It started to rain hard while I was on the platform to leave Deal and I had to give myself a stern little talk to keep onwards. Once in Sandwich, I was walking head down against the wind and rain on a deserted and charmingly medieval-style road when I was hailed. An older woman needed my assistance, since there was no one else around. She had vertigo and needed to cross the street but couldn’t bring herself to do it safely. I was happy to take her arm, and walking her across several streets, about 50 meters, to a wall along a straightaway, where she insisted that I leave her. "Buy yourself a lotto ticket, child. You've done your good deed for the day," she said. 

I ducked into The Crispin Inn, in business since the 16^th century, and read P.G. Wodehouse by the window while the rain stampeded across the glass. Buoyed by cider, I ventured out to “see the sights.” While I was cold and wet, I couldn’t really be too dismayed. After all, the medieval Guildhall and the Barbican reminded me of the hard lives that they must have led back then. Compared to the days of plagues and feudalism, a few hours of chill followed by a warm train and eventually a warm meal would seem like paradise.

This summer here is a gift. A chance to discover what my true interests and preferences are, without the heavy insinuations of my career path. I must bring this sense of calm resolve home again.

How grossly I’ve been trying to stuff my nomadic soul into a small box for too long. It is a poor fit. I am not meant to push ruthlessly forward every day of my life until I die. I will go the longer route, by way of the sea and the cliffs and the stream. I will go by train, by boat, by foot—ever by foot!