Bath: It's Wet! (It was raining)

Anyone who's ever read Jane Austin knows of Bath.  It's where gentile Georgian ladies in empire-waisted gowns go to take the cure, sip sulfur water for their health, and spend their evenings dancing at balls and hunting for wealthy husbands.  That, and the fact that it is named for its famed Roman baths was all that I knew of Bath before my weekend getaway from London.  As a history geek and Classicist, that in itself was enough of a draw.  But my sister-in-law put it on my must-see list, so I found myself on train, in the rain (which I thought was appropriate, if less than picturesque), on my way to Bath. 

From London, Bath is only 90 or so minutes away by train, and you pass though oodles of picturesque countryside on the way there.  I only had the day to spend, so I intended to hit the highlights and ended up wishing for more time in this lovely, picturesque little town.  Unlike London, Bath is easily walkable and accessible on foot, and after a quick walkabout to orient myself, I stopped  at Bath Abbey and the Roman Baths which are catty-corner from one another in the same square.

I am fascinated by cathedrals and always stop in when I see one here in Europe.  Like many other English cathedrals, Bath Abbey has an incredible history.  The site has been occupied by Christian religious institutions since the 7th century A.D, and may have been built atop earlier pagan temples.  The first crowned "King of the English," King Edgar, was crowned here in 973, and the current construction was built in the 12th and 16th centuries and restored in the 18th century.  Don't miss the angels ascending Jacob's Ladder to heaven on the west front.  Legend has it that a 15th century Bishop of Bath, Oliver King, had it constructed after he visited the Abbey, found its monks more interested in earthly delights than the kingdom of heaven, and had a dream of the Heavenly Host ascending and descending a ladder.

Just around the corner from the Abbey is the famous Roman Baths, and you can smell the sulfur and minerals from the moment you walk into the modern construction on street level.  The ancient baths themselves are below ground, and still run with hot, bubbling, steaming mineral waters, millennia after their discovery, and the bath's construction in the 1st century A.D. by the occupying Romans.  During Roman rule, Bath was known as Aquae Sulis "the waters of Sulis" and dedicated to the Celtic goddess, Sulis, a mother-goddess equated by the Romans to Minerva.  The Museum provides an excellent audio-guide of the baths and the Roman artifacts found at the site,  and you can even taste the sulfur-y waters at the end of your tour.

Steam and bubbles rising from the surface of the water at Bath

After my tour of the baths, I stopped by Sally Lunn's for tea.  Just a couple of streets away from Bath Abbey, Sally Lunn's flowery window boxes and bright red sign can't be missed, and my sister-in-law had told me that it was her favorite place to eat in all of England.  I was sold.  I had the traditional tea with Sally Lunn's famous bun, reportedly a 17th century recipe, served with jam and clotted cream.  If you're like me, the words clotted cream are a bit off-putting to say the least.  It sounds revolting, and possibly unsafe.  But don't let the name throw you off. Clotted cream is quite possibly the single best gastronomic invention of mankind.  It is super rich and creamy and tastes as if butter, whipped cream, and frosting were having a delicious menage-a-trots in your mouth.  Seriously, it's sinful.  I only have a picture of the aftermath, because I was too busy having a flavor orgasm in the moment.  It's that good!

After tea, I made my way to the Royal Crescent, a semi-circular row of houses at the heart of Georgian Bath.  Number 1 is a museum, furnished and maintained in the manner of an 18th century resident.  Nearby, you can tour the Bath Assembly Rooms and Fashion Museum, where the fashionable Georgian ladies and gentlemen (Jane Austen and Charles Dickens among them) would gather for balls, concerts, and gambling.

On the way back to the train, I stopped at Pulteney Bridge, spanning the Avon River, and lined with shops.  You can take a one-hour river tour here, but I (wet and tired) declined the opportunity, and took the train back to London.