Time will tell whether having a first class Britrail pass was worth the additional expense. Certainly the larger windows in the first class cars enhanced the pleasure of the views.
The noon high-speed train pulled into Bath right on time at 1:30. I had no lodging waiting for me, and some time spent at the railroad station tourist information center came up with no openings at the nearest B&Bs or hostels for the 5 nights I needed. A music festival was starting this weekend, and many places were booked.
"Try the YMCA in the middle of town," said the clerk. "They're the biggest."
Strapping on my pack, I headed into town and stopped at Aimee's B&B a block from the station--it was available for 5 nights at £40/night for a single, but by then I'd called the YMCA and found they had 5 nights available for an average of £17 per night...plus the bonus of a central location and the opportunity to bunk with 13 other women in a dorm on the weekend because a single room wasn't available for all 5 nights. While the single room would be great for the first 3 days, I was looking forward to experiencing the energy of a group slumber party on Saturday.
After settling into my third-floor room at the Y, which has a wonderful view of the hills to the east of Bath, I wandered the main streets to get my bearings relative to the Abbey (primary landmark here) and was sucked into Minervas by the smell of handmade chocolates. This high-end, chocolates-only candy shop is named after the goddess of the original Roman Spa and Temple that defines Bath. It is run by Philippe, who owned a restaurant for twenty years. I bought 8 chocolates, one of them an unusual rose and violet creme, and asked for a dinner recommendation. He sent me to The White Hart--the chef there had once worked for him.
The White Hart is at the south end of town, just beyond the train station, in Widcombe, which is like a bedroom community of Bath. You have to get to it by walking through a tunnel at the train station where taxis wait under the elevated rail.
I left my order up to the recommendation of the server and took Spanish Treballano wine and an appetizer of rough pesto (whole roasted pine nuts, olive oil, grated parmesan, minced basil, salt, garlic) with warm crusty bread. My main course was a beheaded baked crusty sea bass with lime, ginger, and chilli (that's how they spell it here) butter with tomatoes, and mixed vegetables of snow peas and fine (thin) green beans.
They were completely booked for the night later, but I had been able to walk in at 6:00. The place did start filling up by the time I was done, and I skipped dessert because they needed my table. Besides, I had a Minerva's hazelnut creme or two waiting in my pack.
On the way back into town, I caught the evening's 8:00p Bizarre Bath comedy walk that had started a few minutes before I arrived. It's run every night by a very energetic improv guy dressed in a bright purple long coat and carrying bright purple balloons attached to a bright purple satchel. Alas, my camera fades the hue to blue tones; he was quite spectacular. He’s the guy on the left, spouting water.
The show was a Rick Steves must-do and indeed funny--lots of audience participation and jokes at our expense (there were only 9 of us foolish enough to huddle out there in the rain with umbrellas and raincoats), a few magic/illusion tricks, and very light amount of walking in the heart of the town. There was also the bit in which our guide explains that all non-tourists are supposed to show their savvy by hopping on one foot across a certain street like the locals. We all gamely took the opportunity to look totally ridiculous. The Dufflepuds of Narnia did it a lot better.
Things went slightly off track when we got to the Avon River, where our guide was to do a bizarre Houdini gag involving a white stuffed rabbit wrapped in chains and that didn't drown. The UK has been inundated with unusually torrential rains this month, and apparently the Avon River was too high to pull off the stunt. Our guide explained the gist of it to us, but it lost something in the translation.
We were stopped cold ten minutes later in the abbey courtyard. Throngs of people were pouring out of the abbey after an evening musical performance--one of many events in the International Music Festival and something that our guide hadn't expected.
Overrun with scores of black umbrellas, our flummoxed guide grunted, "This, my friends, is what is known as a complete cockup. A complete and utter cockup. If you'll all follow me, you'll get your £8 back and two free tickets to tomorrow's show."
He had been so full of gags all evening that most of us thought he was joking again, but he marched us all to our starting point, gave us our money back, and handed out free tickets. Boom. Done. Over just like that.
I was just as glad to have the program stop an hour early. The jokes were funny, but things like this are much more fun with a larger group and a companion. I didn't realize until now that experiencing comedy alone or among a very small group of strangers isn't so easy. No wonder TV shows use laugh tracks.
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