The Canterbury Tales [Canterbury & Herne Bay, Kent]

by - March 24, 2015




On an early Monday morning, the old and heavy voice of Canterbury called to us, and we answered. I woke up in an old-fashioned hotel room, whose windows opened up to a blooming garden. Statues of nude women arranged by the wall made the scene look like it belongs at the bottom of a sea - remnants of a long-lost civilisation. Amore and I were the youngest guests there by about ten years.





Hand in hand, we passed beneath the remains of a castle and entered a time distortion, where (or when) the view alternates between metal pubs and glass showcases, Ancient Roman walls, and Renaissance facades. The air itself seems to have a different taste to it here, or maybe it's just the wine fogging my senses with a pink filter. Did you know - pink is not actually a colour? It does not exist. I wonder if I could make a metaphor out of that...



I do not think that the call that summoned us had come from Canterbury Cathedral (and wouldn't it be awfully cliché if the case was such?). I do, however, know that it is the kind of place, which I could not possibly enter alone. If Canterbury is a flurry of time, then the cathedral is the complete absence of it. The architectural beauty of it has changed throughout the ages, but it has stood since the XI century (X, if you count the original building) and the whispering ghosts hidden among the towering columns promise that it will remain standing.






We covered Canterbury in about two days, so on the third day we got in the car and drove to wherever the road signs took us. We ended up along the stony beaches of Herne Bay. The clock tower contested to time's smooth, regular flow here, but there were very few people around to see it. I'm sure that if I lived here, I would prefer measuring time by the sunsets instead.






 The rest of my stay in England was spent at mi amore's place, with frequent outings to parks and pubs. On the final day, we packed the telescopic lenses and headed for Richmond Park, London, in the hope of making some new friends - the deer there. It's ironic that the first thing I look for in a big city is the closest patch of green to where I'm staying. The weather wasn't on our side, however, and neither were the deer, so we soon gave up. We left with the promise that we would return when the weather is better. I don't think that the deer cared much.







 And so, it was once more time to say goodbye for us as well. I might still be a bit shaky, my mind - still absent. But no matter how many wrong turns and detours we make, or how many steps back we take, we are two sides of the same magnet, Amore and I. It's only a matter of time before we get back on the right track. The inevitable will happen, especially if you're sprinting toward it with all of your might.

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5 comments

  1. Много хубостни снимки <3

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    1. Изпитах лек момент на fangirling.
      Благодаря! ^^

      Delete
  2. Много красив пост! Английската провинция е толкова живописна и историческа, заслужава си да се пообиколи, а не само да се посещава Лондон. Страхотни снимки!

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    Replies
    1. Благодаря! Толкова малко съм видяла от Великобритания като цяло, но искам още! Като цяло се старая да постигна равновесие между основните туристически атракции и местенцата, за които само местните биха знаели. Не винаги се получава, но пък си има причина най-посещаваните места да са... ами, най-посещавани.
      Благодаря отново! ^^

      Delete
  3. Не ти е необходима стихотворна форма, за да пишеш поезия...

    ReplyDelete