Yorkshire, Day 5 (Saturday)

I'd like to say it was my stellar planning and forethought, but we arrived in York on the only train that made it on time from London that evening, thanks to the person who chucked it all in and ended it on the London-York train line. But it was really just dumb luck, and our train happened to be the cheapest at the time of the booking. Anyway, we easily found a taxi and showed up at Elly's house...a twee Victorian-era terraced brick house. Jo and Elly greeted us with mugs of tea, we flopped on the couch, and ordered pizza. It was a relief to be in a house with friends rather than a small hotel room.

Saturday morning we were off to York city center to pick up our rental -- erm, hire -- car, then to explore the city. First stop, my favorite cathedral ever, Yorkminster Cathedral, and that's saying a lot from a girl who avoids churches and any mention of g*d. I'd promised Matt that it would be more impressive than Westminster Abbey, and he agreed. There's something about the light through its windows and the soaring height and openness of the ceiling that is more peaceful and gothically breathtaking.


The steps to the top of the cathedral had never been open during my previous visits, so we decided to make the climb. Despite the hilarious (sorry, Jo!) story of Jo's paralyzing fear of heights angering the tour leader and the signs warning us to stay down if we suffered any tiny little hint of any kind of health issue, we joined the next group going up. The narrow stone winding staircase opened up to path across the roof about halfway up, which I didn't realize, so at this point I breathed a sigh of relief and started snapping pictures of the view below..."Ah! That wasn't too bad. 275 steps? Piffle!" Then Matt nudged me ahead and through another door, and lo, there were the remaining half of the steps to the top. Even narrower and windier. But anyway, we made it, took the photos, then wound our way down.

We explored the narrow Tudor and Victorian shopping streets of York, "oohing and aahing" over centuries-old cobblestoned alleys and stucco/tudor buildings that were sagging and crooked from age. We had tasty sandwiches in Swinegate at a place called Piglets, then headed back to our car for a trip into the Yorkshire countryside. But first, Matt happened across the birthplace of one of York's infamous Guy Fawkes, which completed his impromptu 48-hour tour of the life of Guy Fawkes, from the site in the Tower of London where he was hung, drawn and quartered, to his birthplace on a humble cobbled street in old roman York.

After apologizing profusely for the smell of the car and realizing that the gear I had believed to be first was actually third (you can imagine the hilarity that ensued. Uhm, it will be hilarious tomorrow when the smell and cloud of blue exhaust has faded from memory) we were smoothly on our way to Scarborough. I didn't have too much trouble driving on the other side of the road...to be honest, it's easier than trying to navigate the crowded sidewalks of London because at least the roadways have lines and you just kinda follow the other cars. Mostly. Heh. Just gotta pay attention to those right turns.

Scarborough the city is a seaside resort, and like most British seaside towns it's gaudy and bright and tacky and depressingly decaying between the cracks. They all had their heyday in the Victorian era but once Brits started going abroad for their hols, these places lost their allure. We avoided the main touristy drag of the city and headed up a steep hill (more steps? more climbing? srsly?!) towards Scarborough castle. It was built in the 12th century to protect against Viking invaders and is of course strategically located high atop the cliffs overlooking the North Sea. Cliffs and sea aside, the steep climb to the top would be enough to deter me from invading. Perhaps I would not have made a successful invader. A moany and whiny one, definitely. The castle was mostly in ruins, but I loved the views of the sea and the surrounding town, and it was eerily quiet and still atop the cliff.


After the castle...as per usual, we were exhausted after our long day. We scrapped our initial plans to eat fish and chips in Scarborough and just drove straight back to York, content to have leftover pizza and falafel. Hey, the combo worked. Elly and Jo treated us to a tear-jerking history of Ireland via The Wind That Shakes the Barley (I give it 5 stars, highly recommend it, moving, informative, and very well done...hey, you get movie reviews on at travel blog! Lucky you.)