Lest You Should Rest in the Southwest

By way of an introduction - an article I wrote this winter as part of my AS English Language coursework. The assignment came with a bonus in the form of a word limit; hopefully in next texts I'll write as much as I please.

Lest You Should Rest in the Southwest,

or The Value of Perpetual Amazement

“Once a year, go somewhere you’ve never been before” – states a supposedly optimistic sign that hangs in one of the school corridors. “Once a year” – that always gives me a laugh. If living in a city you first saw half a year ago doesn’t count as visiting a new place, our weekly excursions certainly fulfil all the criteria. So it is once, sometimes twice a week that my family and I go somewhere we’ve never been before. “Once a year…” – I would’ve died if I travelled so rarely.

Of course, most people don’t get the chance to move to a foreign country every couple of years… Living in a place you had never seen before makes it much easier to find new places to explore. It’s also a huge motivating factor that allows you to get out of bed and plan a day out – after all, if you’ll live in the same place all your life, chances are you’ll have plenty of time to see everything there is to see, so why bother to see it all now?; whereas if you’re in a particular place ‘only’ for a year, you’d better hurry up and use all the time you’ve got on travelling, 'cause you still won’t see it all, no matter how hard you try.

People often complain that they don’t have enough money to travel. I suppose it’s all a matter of preferences – if your definition of travelling necessitates living in a luxury hotel and eating out every night, then sure, hardly anyone has enough money to travel somewhere each month, let alone each week. But if you’re prepared to bring along a picnic, sleep in a tent or get up early and go on a day-long round trip instead of booking a hotel, there’s a whole exciting world out there for you. And it’s really not as scary as it sounds – lack of luxury leads to wonderful rituals and memories; I wouldn’t exchange my family picnics out in the fresh mountain air for anything.

So, have you decided to go somewhere this very weekend? Where, then? From a fresh, foreign perspective, I think I can recount some of our recent experiences from a whole range of places, all reachable on a one-day excursion from Bristol, and you can have your pick.

Everyone’s heard of Stonehenge, but what about all the other stone circles in the Southwest? Yes, there’s a whole bunch of ’em. A real must-see is Avebury, which has the advantage over Stonehenge that you can come as close as you could wish to the prehistoric stones, of which there are a good deal more than its famed sister site can boast. Incidentally, the place is also free, and there’s more to see here than just stone circles. The downside: the stones don’t have quite the orderliness of those in Stonehenge, and there’s a whole lot of sheep (whatever could be unpleasant about these furry animals?...).

When we visited Avebury, it happened to be Halloween. It also happened to be very cold, but we soon forgot about that, warmed up by all the wonderful sights. After the stone circles, it was time for Silbury Hill, supposedly the largest man-made mountain, dating from 1600 BC. As my brother put it, these people really knew how to make a mountain out of a molehill. Interestingly, no one has much of an idea as to what exactly our ancestors were thinking when they built this. In a way, it makes the place all the more fascinating; one can imagine a tower of Babylon of sorts being here (“If God can build mountains, why can’t I?”). Or you could imagine a spoiled princess with a passion for sledding and an inventive father…

Unfortunately, due to recent excavations, you can only experience your visit at Silbury Hill from a safe distance. The same cannot be said of Avebury’s next attraction – the prehistoric barrows. Since, as usual, we left home some time into the afternoon, it was already getting dark by the time we got to the barrows. Ah, the sun sinking below the horizon of the flowing hills, illuminating our entrance into the resting place of our ancestors… And the candles scattered about the cave, living proof that people still remember, after almost four thousand years.

I wonder whether Britons realise how muddy their country is… If I had to give a concise description of the landscape of the southwest of England, I would mention the neat little houses, each almost the same as all the rest, but all utterly charming; the unbelievably narrow and picturesque roads, usually bounded by eternally trimmed hedgerows; the ever-present flocks of sheep (for whom, since coming here, I’ve lost some of my fondness, I’m afraid); the astonishingly green grass (“is it plastic?” ask friends in Poland when I send pictures to them); and of course the gooey, slippery mud. But I am digressing…

In order to get to our final destination, we had to carefully consider each step, for fear of slipping or being sucked in by the afore-mentioned muck; but regardless of our cautiousness, our shoes were beyond recognition after this excursion. It was rather fun, though, groping for anything to hold on to in the settling dusk. Soon enough, the mud was replaced by grass, and we entered the stone alley, Avebury’s final attraction.

There’s something really moving about darkness; perhaps it’s the quiet that surrounds it, perhaps the light that penetrates it. It adds an air of mysteriousness to everything, especially to rows of huge stones that once, thousands of years ago, marked the route of a religious procession. Especially on Halloween night, when the megaliths tend to remind one of enormous tombstones.

We only realised how cold it had been when we got to the car and tried to consume our ‘tea’ – the candy bars we took along almost resulted in some tooth breakage. But what a way to spend Halloween! Much better than throwing a party and getting drunk, I daresay (though I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been drunk)…

The inadequateness of the amount of space available for this article is beginning to dawn on me… I’ll have to try and make do with what I’ve got, summing up this particular piece, and promising to continue my tale in the next issue.

What else is there to see in the vicinity of Bristol? Obviously, there’s Bath (and the museum there is brilliant) and Stonehenge (to which Avebury should be an addition, not a rival). But what else? There’s an unimaginable number of castles (if you want to see something truly spectacular, try Cardiff castle, the product of an obsession with the Middle Ages and a whole lot of money), cathedrals (Wells and Gloucester are both dizzying examples of Gothic art), abbeys (e.g. Glastonbury, which, apart from being an exceptionally picturesque ruin, is a treat for those with a taste for the paranormal). There are prehistoric tombs, beautiful mountains (ah, the Brecon Beacons in Wales!), and the seaside (according to my family, the seaside of the Southwest is the ugliest in the world; nowhere else can you find such muddy beaches and such an abundance of algae; isn’t that reason enough to visit it?). And all this is just the tip of the iceberg.

But why would you want to see all these places? Every traveller has his own answers. As for myself, I think that what really gets me about travelling is the fact that you are finally permitted to be amazed at the world around you. In ‘real life’ you can hardly be expected to grin like an idiot at every passing sunrise... Days come and go, and you never stop and wonder why cars go on one side of the road or the other, what determines the number of taps in a sink, and whether sheep poo can be used to produce paper; you never stop and notice the beauty of this ridiculous world.

So, when in the Southwest, don’t rest at home; pack your backpack, visit one of the millions of nearby attractions, and be amazed!