Searching for Shakespeare: Stratford-on-Avon

So, time to talk about Stratford-on-Avon. The picture on the left is of Anne Hathaway's cottage.

Danielle, Laura and I rose early (about 6:45) and caught the 8:00 bus down the street for Cheltenham Spa, the train station. We bought our tickets and waited for the right train, which was a bit confusing because it's a small station and things aren't really clear. We hopped on a cross-country train to Edinburgh and rode along until we got to Birmingham, New Street. From there we walked a few blocks (in the freezing cold! We underestimated how warmly we should dress!) to Birmingham More Street, a much smaller station. We hung out in the cold, sipping hot chocolate, for about an hour until we caught our next train. It was an enjoyable ride, and we got off at the last stop: Stratford-on-Avon!

Once there, we all queued for the ladies room, having been unable to find one in Birmingham, and then set off at a walk for the town, not exactly knowing where we were going. We'd debated taking a taxi but were too cheap to actually pay for it. Could you blame us, really? After a couple of blocks, we met with a black post with signs pointing in all different directions to the many attractions of the town. We followed signs toward Shakespeare's birthplace (!!) until we came to a busy market square. We browsed he stalls, full of everything from homemade soaps to watches, scarves to fresh fish, and then ducked into a music store for a few minutes. We realized we'd gotten a bit sidetracked and then got down the task at hand: finding either Shakespeare's birthplace or Anne Hathaway's cottage.

We kept walking in the direction we'd been headed before the market, but couldn't seem to find any more signs pointing to Shakespeare's birthplace. We crossed a couple of streets and eventually came to a footpath, at whose entrance was a sign that read "Anne Hathaway's cottage," with an arrow pointing the right way. Encouraged, we hurried on. 

About a mile later, we'd passed through residential neighborhoods and fields and had seen several false alarms ("I see a thatched roof, there it is!" "Uh guys, that house has a satellite dish on it.") but didn't have the slightest idea where we were. Finally, signs pointing to the cottage resurfaced, and after nearly being hit twice by passing vehicles thanks to the thinness of the sidewalks and the unexpected bends in the road, we were standing at the end of the street, looking at the real cottage of Anne Hathaway. (Who needs a map? Ha!)

When we'd paid admission (6 british pounds) we passed through a little garden gate and found ourselves staring at a good-sized daub and timber, thatched cottage, surrounded by a large garden of flowers and herbs. We were shown into the house, in what would have been the family's living area, one of the two original rooms from when Anne Hathaway and her family lived in the house. We were given a short walk about the history of the home, then set loose to observe the buttery and the upper floor, where the bedrooms were. The upstairs was a bit treacherous: the floorboards creaked ominously with every stop, and the rooms were all on different levels, so that we were navigating tiny stairways with no railings and nearly bumping our heads on the ceilings. When we descended into the kitchen, we were talked at some more, and then we exited the home to explore the gardens.

Unfortunately we were all too distracted by the need for food to take advantage of the Woodland Walk (which sounded quite enjoyable) or to take in more than a bit of the gardens. Luckily, after spending too much money at the gift shop, we found a tea garden and restaurant just down the street. We ordered (Danielle and Laura, the special, myself a yummy-sounding spicy tortilla wrap) and after a few minutes, realized that the restaurant was completely full of Asian tourists. Seriously, we were the only English-speaking customers at the only spare table in the restaurant. It was crazy! We devoured our food within minutes, it now being after 1 in the afternoon, and then began the walk back to town.

Luckily, we were able to follow a more direct path back to Stratford-on-Avon and shaved off about an hour of walking time. We stopped in a book store to ask for directions to the birthplace, and a friendly young man with the most English teeth I've ever seen pointed the way. On our way there, we saw another of the black signposts, which had the wonderful words "Trinity Church and Shakespeare's grave" printed on them. We agreed that this destination was an absolute necessity, but that we should get to the birthplace first so that it didn't close. We walked the blocks until we came to the pedestrians-only street that led to the birthplace. We walked into a modern building that proclaimed itself the entrance, and paid our 8 pounds to get in. Once inside, we walked around museum-like exhibits that provided information about the Bard's family, work, homes, and other such things. Then, we went outside into the garden, where we had our first look at the home.

We were looking at it from behind, a large, brown, two-story daub-and-timber building with a shingled roof. We entered from the side, into a separate part of the house, where Shakespeare's sister and her husband lived. A doorway has recently been cut into the main building through the dividing wall, and so we passed through there into the guest room of the Shakespeares' home. We passed through the hall, with its dining table, into the workshop where John Shakespeare, William's father, made and sold his gloves along with his apprentices.

Oh, I'll finish later.