We went to Bath on one of our class field trips (only three more left now).
If you didn't know, large parts of two of Austen's novels are set in Bath. In Northanger Abbey, one enjoys Bath from the visitor's perspective, spending a great deal of time in the Assembly Rooms and Pump Room. Seeing. Being seen. The protagonist, suitably, is an ingenue on the cusp of maturity.
In Persuasion, one enjoys Bath from the resident's, learning the socio-economic undercurrent of a city that focuses on fashion and wealth. The protagonist is an older woman, one who has made mistakes and lived with the regret of them.
Austen herself visited Bath, staying with her Aunt Leigh-Perrot. Aunt Leigh-Perrot was a bit of a character-- she knew and traced the Perrot lineage for anyone that would listen from an ancient Anglo-Saxon tribe who took their name from a river, then migrated to Normandy to give their name to a river there, but returned to Enland with the Conqueror, down through the blood of Henry VIII, and into the relatively poor Austen family. (Fabrications. By the way.)
She, Austen, was forced to move there for several years in her late 20s, as her father's health faded. She didn't write while she lived in Bath, but her experiences and observations shaped her writing. Directly after leaving Bath, over a period of roughly six years, she finished and published the majority of her works.
(On a side note, I like to think of her not-writing in her 20s. It gives me hope for myself; all hope is not lost. Austin is my version of Bath, that's all.)
Austen did not like Bath, in case you wondered-- especially in the sunlight. The brilliance of the sun rebounding from white stone bothered her eyes-- well, she did live before sunglasses. She said that she saw the city better through the rain-- figuratively as well, I'm sure.
Okay, background-- check. You're up to speed on the city of Bath.
Now-- for my experience. The bus driver first took us to Prior Park, where the entire program hiked about for nearly an hour. After what is becoming the usual, which is to say, after climbing rocky precipices like a mountain goat, all attention trained on the ground and the delicacy of my ankles, I stumbled upon a sudden grassy plateau, looked up, and was overawed by-- this.
The city in the background is Bath. I couldn't believe there were even cows-- couldn't ask for a more 18th century setting, really.
We half-skidded down the hill to the little bridge you see in the picture above-- one of the four surviving Palladian bridges in the entire world according to the National Heritage woman (3 in England, 1 in Russia). Amy, Alisa, and Rachel grace the bridge with further beauty.
I look so proud, as though I had something to do with the bridge, or the setting-- well, I did skid successfully down a stony, uneven cliff on flip-flops, so that is something to be proud of, if not something particularly monumental.
After our walk, the bus picked us up and moved us to Bath proper. First things first: a couple of us went to tour the Roman Baths.And, when they say "Roman Baths," they mean Roman. This building (given there have been restorations and renovations over the millenia) survives from that brief period in time when the Romans bathed in Britain. They were civilized, you know. A quote from a Roman emperor on why he bathes once a day reflects a sentiment held by many an American: "Because I haven't the time to bathe twice."
The clashing contrast of the Roman bath with a medieval abbey (Bath Abbey) rising behind, caught by yours truly: a combination as delicious and impractical as peanut butter and jelly.
One of the Roman bath areas. Kathleen and Prithi, two of the girls I wandered about with, actually drank some of it, and came away with twisted expressions. Evidently it has a metallic tang, though it's also supposed to have healing powers. Of course, leeches and letting blood were also supposed to have healing effects, back in the day.
A sign that I shall graciously allow to explain itself.
The west baths; now a wishing pool. 
After lunch, at my persistent demand, we went to the Jane Austen Centre. Do we look alike, do you think? No? The tour was actually a bit of a disappointment-- we sat in a stifling room and listened to our guide speak. Furthermore, I knew the majority of what the guide shared already, having read a 400 page biography earlier in the summer.
Given a) I was determined to enjoy this. and b) I'd never heard the information in a British accent before, and that adds something elemental to the story.
There were painted pigs all over the city-- everywhere. It reminded all of us of the painted cows that appear (around Livestock Show & Rodeo time is it? Periodically, anyway) in Houston. Someone said there are "Pigs of Bath," and this painted pig parade plays off the phrase-- When I asked what that meant, no one had an answer. If you know, please tell me. In the meantime, there are painted pigs all over the city.
Piccadilly Circus: where the rich live. Significantly, none of Austen's characters live in this part of town, not a one.
The Assembly Rooms and, tellingly, now a Museum of Fashion. Notice how the sky begins to grow a trifle threatening.
One of the Assembly Rooms. Up to a 1000 people in evening dress would gather here to play cards, gossip, dance, etc. I believe this is one of Catherine Morland's first stops when she arrives in Bath in Northanger Abbey, and the passage describes a claustrophobic crowd of people. It's not like the rooms, beautifully appointed as they are, had AC.
When we left to hunt for the parking lot and our Jeffs bus, it was pouring rain. We got soaking wet and dashed back into the Jane Austen Centre-- given that, this time, there was a man in period costume standing in the doorway and advising us to be careful and not to slip.
As we left on the bus, I saw a fire station! This is the Avon Station in the Bath District, according to the sign.
Piccadilly Circus: where the rich live. Significantly, none of Austen's characters live in this part of town, not a one.
The Assembly Rooms and, tellingly, now a Museum of Fashion. Notice how the sky begins to grow a trifle threatening.
One of the Assembly Rooms. Up to a 1000 people in evening dress would gather here to play cards, gossip, dance, etc. I believe this is one of Catherine Morland's first stops when she arrives in Bath in Northanger Abbey, and the passage describes a claustrophobic crowd of people. It's not like the rooms, beautifully appointed as they are, had AC.
When we left to hunt for the parking lot and our Jeffs bus, it was pouring rain. We got soaking wet and dashed back into the Jane Austen Centre-- given that, this time, there was a man in period costume standing in the doorway and advising us to be careful and not to slip.
As we left on the bus, I saw a fire station! This is the Avon Station in the Bath District, according to the sign.
Sorry if this entry is rather garbled. Bath is such a confusion of connotations for me-- stories from Austen's life, scenes from two of her books, and now my own memories-- And not enough time to get around everywhere and see everything! Really, I wouldn't be satisfied in leaving until I had remained in Bath a month. At least.
But we had dinner waiting for us at Brasenose, and even with the bus driver running yellow lights and threatening pedestrians as she careened down the main streets of Oxford, we all had to scamper to the dining hall to make it in time for the starter (tonight, cheese and asparagus wrapped in thin slices of ham. Twas followed by the main course, a delightful chicken and potato dish trumping anything that I could make myself-- and a dessert-- sticky toffee pudding, according to Liz, which I should have refused, not having walked that much-- and yet... and yet ate the whole thing. They feed us well here, that is for sure).
