Follow the pink teddy bear...
..Hot on the Tourist Trail.
9/29/20245 min read
Many years ago, when we lived on the beautiful Pembrokeshire coast in Wales, B. and I resolved to stay at home whenever public holidays brought the crowds. Now that we live in France, we feel the same way, and have discovered many beautiful places to go that do not attract tourist hordes. However we recently began a three week Interrail journey, which would initially take us from Montpellier to the beautiful Lake District in the north of England in one day, to visit family. This has suddenly immersed us in a world of international tourism that is difficult to avoid.
Our journey began well. Having bought a special Interrail offer with first class seats, we found ourselves in comfortable spacious seats for our five hour journey from Montpellier to Lille. The train did not seem crowded, and above all it was peaceful, thanks to an announcement which asked passengers to refrain from using their mobile phones in the carriage. Indeed the journey was a dream. However , by the time the third leg from London began, we were feeling fraught. We had had to dash to Euston station to make up for train delays, and the concourse was very crowded. So was our train carriage. But worst of all were the subsequent telephone conversations and banter between our fellow passengers, which were all carried out at high decibels. B. donned his noise cancelling ear phones, while I suffered in silence.
Our first few days in the North of England were full of nostalgia as my brother took us around places that we had visited as children on family holidays in the Lake District, including a tiny cottage where we stayed. It was called 'Greenbank' and was lit only by gas lamps. It was so remote that it involved walking for two miles before we could even take a bus along the shores of Lake Ullswater to buy supplies. We had no car, although the local pub did supply us with bread.
This walk to the lake took us close to Aira Force, a spectacular waterfall that I have always longed to revisit. But when we did this time, the onslaught of increased tourism came home to me. For in place of the totally natural surroundings and simple beaten pathways of our past, metal railings had been placed to protect us from steep drops. Moreover, at the very bottom of the falls they had built a large metal viewing platform, robbing this spot of its simple charm. Nonetheless , in spite of these additions, and the increased number of visitors, it was still captivating.
Yesterday, we crossed the Pennines to Durham, the beautiful city where I had once been a student, well over half a century ago. But my dreams of how this visit to old haunts would go were shattered by reality when I saw crowds of people thronging the narrow streets, not to mention hundreds of cars. We walked past the 'brutalist' Dunelm House Students' Union building and the adjacent Kingsgate Bridge which links it to the opposite bank of the River Wear. These were newly designed and engineered by Ave Orup in 1965, the very year I arrived. It was a stunning building to sit in, overlooking the river, but today it looks dirty and tired, and in my view, does not compare well with other brutalist architectural gems.
But what had happened? As we approached, we were caught up in a crowd of people waiting to pass through the enormous doors. Some were even eating sandwiches as they went inside. Here, where once I had come to seek peace, there was a constant buzz of activity. Commentary from sporadically spaced loud speakers and new attractions all seemed to add a 'Disneyfied' air to the proceedings. How sad! But hey ho... the ancient bones of St Cuthbert still lay in their sanctified setting, and the enormous columns seemed as solid and beautiful as ever. No one could ever take away the stunning beauty of the Cathedral interior. If only people could realise though, how much we have lost by introducing noise and bustle into these places.
A very different architectural gem however stands close by. It is much much older and dominates the cliff before us. It overlooks a bend in the river. where we used to come as students: a crew of four , plus our cox, who would look up at the enormous grey towers of Durham Cathedral as we rowed past. How many times had I longed to revisit this stunning building: to feel dwarfed again by its soaring walls, and calmed by its silent interior . I would often pop in for a few minutes to admire the enormous, beautifully decorated columns, and Norman arches. And above all to enjoy the peace that pervaded the whole building.
Clutching our Interrail pass, we took the train to York, that evening, where we are now spending a couple of nights. Our first port of call was to be the magnificent York Minster with its soaring towers and beautiful Gothic arches, and so we rose early the next morning, planning to avoid the crowds. It was around 9a.m as we stood under the enormous bell tower and heard it strike the hour. And then it got even better, as the bells continued to peal as if for ever, calling the faithful to church that Sunday morning. Even though the Minster would only be open to tourists later that afternoon, the streets were filling up with tourists, be they in pairs, small groups or long lines of largely foreign tourists, following their guides like crocodiles of schoolchildren. One guide held a Union Jack aloft at the head of the group, while another held up a pink teddy bear on the end of a long pole. We quickly surveyed the surrounding area, including the picturesque 'Shambles' area of narrow medieval streets , and promptly left.
