Postcard From The Peak District: Austen, Bronte, The Plague, and Mr. Darcy

"We shall not be like other travelers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We WILL know where we have gone--we WILL recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations"~Elizabeth Bennet

I first read about the Peaks District when it played a pivotal role in the plot of Pride and Prejudice: Elizabeth journeys to Derbyshire on a holiday with her aunt and uncle because the lakes were too far. As she says before their trip "What are young men to mountains?" Of course, it is also home to Mr. Darcy and, well, we all know how that worked out. 

But I became more aware of the area's outstanding natural beauty while watching one of the many television shows or films shot there.  The Peak District seems to have embraced it's association with televised costume dramas--but it's worth pointing out that before the location scouts came, the area served as inspiration for settings in both Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte's most beloved works.

Some places let you down, like Epcot center or your local harvest fair. (Every fall I get duped into thinking fairs are cute and quaint but then when I go it's full of packs of rural teenagers huddled together gorging on cotton candy and wearing far too much eyeliner.) But, unlike Walt Disney's vision of the future or the Big E's cream puffs, England's Peak District surpasses your expectations. You can spend the whole time wondering if you've actually wandered onto a movie set. Pop in your headphones and play the soundtrack to Pride and Prejudice and you could be the star of your own film. Not that I would know anything about that...  

I stayed at a youth hostel in the tiny village of Eyam, also known as 'the plague village', because if you're me, you want to be as close to a historical bubonic plague site as possible. 

It looks like the quintessential English village--something you might come across in an Agatha Christie novel. Except instead of a disgruntled school marm or vengeful stable boy, the bubonic plague was doing most of the killing. 

The only thing scarier than the bubonic plague being delivered to your doorstep are awkwardly posed mannequins in bad wigs.

The downside to staying in Eyam was that when I had to actually get around the area I was at the mercy of the local bus system. I had prepared for this by spending far too much time on a TripAdvisor forum solely dedicated to the purpose of helping visitors without cars manage public transportation. I don't want to say it is impossible, because clearly I managed. But if you do go, I strongly suggest driving unless you like the idea of carrying your luggage up deceptively steep hills or returning to your hostel by 3 pm each afternoon. 

This photo is on an incline because I was on an incline. Also, llamas!

In Pride and Prejudice, the nearby (but poorly bus serviced) town of Bakewell fills in for Lambton--very pleasant, rather touristy and the namesake for Bakewell puddings and tarts. 

Though much like NYC's Original Ray's pizza there is much debate over which establishment was the first to offer it. My money is on The Old Original Bakewell Pudding Shop, mostly because it was the best one I had. 

A short (and frequent) bus ride away is Chatsworth, the grand estate of the Duke of Devonshire, and inspiration for Pemberley, the ancestral home of the Darcys. 

"It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills…"

In the 1995 miniseries starring little known actor Colin Firth, Lyme Park in Disley, a couple hours northwest of where I was,  served as Pemberly. But in the 2006 film version, Chatsworth takes on the part it was born to play. Perhaps it isn't surprising then that about a quarter of Chatsworth's giftshop is devoted exclusively to Mr. Darcy.This includes a greeting card featuring an illustration of Colin Firth making this face:

I actually felt embarrassed for a moment because such a thing actually exists for people to buy. I prefer this face instead:

"Dearest, loveliest Emily. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire the new Monsoon dress I bought for you."

"Yes, of course we can sit on the couch and watch the entirety of the television program Parks and Recreation. I too enjoy Ron Swanson's moustache and Andy's silly antics."

"Is it really necessary for me to walk around in this wetted shirt all afternoon? It is? Very well."

But, if I'm completely honest with myself, I probably would have bought the card if no one had been around and if the cash register was instead manned by a fancy robot with a British accent--think C3-PO in a powdered wig. I mean, who am I to judge? I had just spent the entire tour pretending to be Elizabeth Bennet during her inaugural visit to Pemberley. 

It was a bit difficult, what with the mob of tourists around, but if I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the swarms of old Germans on either side (it's always Germans), I could, for a very brief moment, hear Darcy calling to me from the boudoir. And, in that instance, he was definitely making this face:

After visiting Chatsworth I decided to check out Haddon Hall, a Tudor manor that was supposed to contrast nicely with the Georgian elegance of the former. And, like Chatsworth, it also has it's fair share of movie credits: The Princess Bride, Elizabeth, Jane Eyre, etc, etc. 

It was amazing. The place even smelled old, which probably sounds gross but really just added to the whole experience. 

But, I think it's very telling that there weren't any souvenirs of Orson Welles or Michael Fassbender as Mr. Rochester. There may have been some DVDs, but that's it. No one goes to bits over that character. I suppose he's a bit too dour for that sort of thing, plus there's the whole 'locking his first wife in the attic' debacle. Whereas Darcy may act all dark and serious, Rochester actually lives it. And it ain't pretty.

A little to the north, near the village of Hathersage, one can visit North Lees Hall, which was allegedly Charlotte Bronte's inspiration for Thornfield Hall in Jane Eyre and, as several area brochures made sure to mention, where Mrs. Rochester threw herself off the roof. First of all, spoiler alert? Secondly, what-- 'Home of Mr. Rochester' wasn't dramatic enough? Even the Peak District tourist board seems to adhere to the adage: "If it bleeds, it leads." Interestingly, Jane Eyre got her surname from a wealthy local family, and as is befitting a well-respected family, they now have several area pubs named after them. 

Hathersage is also home to Little John's grave, which made my earlier observation that the area reminded me of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves slightly less embarrassing, and  

Stanage Edge, where you can recreate Keira Knightly's stance in the inferior non-Colin Firth version of Pride and Prejudice, as a twentysomething British guy helpfully informed me. Apparently he has a picture of himself doing the same pose. But, sadly on the day I traveled to Hathersage it poured for hours. I tried to wait it out but when the lone bus back to Eyam came, away I went. 

Postcard From London: Highgate, The Brontes, and Saying Goodbye

I've been abroad for about a month now, though it feels like so much longer. The housesitting gig ended last week but I have been hiding away in the attic stealing wifi and subsisting on dust bunnies and the soothing sounds of Channel 4--just kidding. The family I house sat for were kind enough to let me stay on a bit longer, but as nice as its been, its time to move on. I head up to the Peak District village of Eyam on Monday and from there I'll go to Haworth, home of the Brontes.

As preparation, I covertly snapped this picture in the National Portrait Gallery. Afterwards, I learned that it is ok to take pictures and that they have security cameras in every room that the guards monitor 24/7. This can only mean that there is CCTV footage of me very obviously looking around, sneakily taking this photograph, and then pretending to read my phone like nothing was going on. 

After that, it's on to York for a few days before returning to London where I'll meet up with James and start EUROTRIP: PHASE TWO. We'll spend ten days exploring London,  along with a few day trips farther afield, and then it's off to Paris for six. I am beyond excited for so many things: Seeing James of course, turning 29 in the city of lights, checking out Glastonbury Tor, exploring Amelie's Monmarte--the list goes on and on and on. It's funny, though. I'm excited for James to come, but I also don't want this to end. I want time to move forward and back all at once. But before all that I have to say goodbye. 

I've really enjoyed my housesitting experience--the only downside is leaving Chilli, the wonderful dog I took care of. I lucked out with this one and it almost makes me a little wary of doing it again. The bar has been set pretty high. 

It has also been great getting to know a new part of London and marveling at just how big and varied this place is. Today I visited Highgate, another lovely village close by that borders the heath. I went for the cemetery (which is the final resting place of George Eliot and Karl Marx, among many others) but the village is, like Hampstead, very quaint and beautiful. You can wander around the East cemetery for 4 pounds or take a guided tour of the West for 12. Guess which one I did? For 4 pounds you get a map that points out the notable graves, so there's that. I was pretty shocked at just how crowded the place was, and not by the living. Headstones were literally falling on each other. Apparently, plots at Highgate were in such high demand the East cemetery was opened in 1860 and is still in operation today.  Then again, I guess it shouldn't be so surprising of one of the world's oldest 'mega cities'. 

Almost walked by George Eliot's grave. Then I shook my fist and said 'Ughhh Casaubon!'

However, it's hard to miss this one. Workers of the world unite for a more tasteful headstone?

Many stones were completely covered in ivy. Beautiful, but it also says so much about the brevity of life and the enduring nature of death, no? Maybe I'm reading too much into it...I bet George Eliot could riff on that for a few pages though.

Sadly, I'm not sure what my WiFi situation will be like up north so I might not do a blog post for awhile. I'll definitely be updating the Facebook page and Instagram so check those out for Peaks and Yorkshire goodness. And give them a "like" while you're stopping by!

Literary London: Barrie, Dickens, and The Bloomsbury Group

Long before I came to London, I had an idea of what it was like thanks to writers like Charles Dickens and J.M. Barrie, whose vivid descriptions have long held a place in our collective imagination. It was a foggy place filled with cobblestoned roads and row houses where colorful characters lived while fairies flew through the night sky and unseen terrors lurked in the shadows. Of course, no real place can ever live up to our imagined expectations, but even still there's a magical quality to the city, perhaps in part enhanced by its rich literary history, which can be found on seemingly every street corner. This is, after all, a place that has dedicated a whole tube station to a fictional character:

The Sherlock Holmes Museum (notably, not the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle museum) is located at 221 Baker Street, naturally:

Even still, there are plenty of real life literary heros who walked these streets. In fact, writers like Dickens, Barrie, and Woolf are so well-known and beloved that they have become characters themselves. I love visiting the places where larger than life authors lived and worked. It's fun and educational but also inspirational. And who couldn't benefit from a little inspiration now and then?

First up was the Dickens Museum. I'm not a huge Dickens fan (a bit wordy for my taste), but his influence on Western literature is undeniable. Even if you've never read a word, you can still probably name at least a few characters: Ebenezer Scrooge, Tiny Tim, Miss Havisham, Oliver Twist. To me, Dickens' greatest legacy is the characters he created. Therefore, the museum, housed in a townhouse he rented for a few years during the beginning of his career, is a real treat for both the casual fan and fervent admirer. Here he wrote Oliver Twist and Nicholas Nickleby, among others, and it is also a great example of how an upper middle class family lived during the mid-19th century. 

Charles Dickens' kitchen. He was not the only writer in his family, as his wife Catherine wrote a cookbook: What Shall We Have For Dinner?

Um, best wall designs ever?

There's a lovely terrace out back where you can relax with a cup of tea and reflect on the house.

A few blocks and several decades removed is Bloomsbury, where the Bloomsbury group, made up of 20th century artists, intellectuals, and writers, got their name. I didn't know much about them until I took a course on Virginia Woolf in grad school. Though I admire her, Woolf's fiction isn't my cup of tea. However, her diaries are fun, witty, and a fascinating window into the era. 

Gordon Square was home to several prominent members, the economist John Maynard Keynes and sisters Virginia Woolf and Vanessa Bell all lived at number 46, though at different times. Hey, it's an important distinction to make. This is the Bloomsbury group after all.

Nearby is Tavistock Square, where Virginia Woolf lived with her husband Leonard.

This memorial to Virginia Woolf stands near where they lived.

Interestingly, Dickens also lived in Tavistock square at one time. Ev'rybody wants to be in the stock!

Tavistock Square is also home to this famous statue of Ghandi as well as other memorials to those who have championed peace.

But closest to my heart is Peter Pan, the catalyst for my lifelong obsession with London. When I was a kid I loved Peter Pan so much that I begged my mom to change my name to Wendy. (This is a good example of why children should not be able to name themselves.) Thankfully she said no, but my love affair with the story of The Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up and the Darling children continued. 

I decided to track down author J.M. Barrie's house near the northern part of Kensington Gardens he met the Llewelyn Davies boys who inspired his greatest creation. In fact, the character of Peter Pan first appears in a section of Barrie's novel The Little White Bird called "Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens". 

100 Bayswater Road at Leinster Corner is a private home.   

The only sign is the tell-tale blue plaque that marks many historically significant buildings throughout the city.

Kensington Gardens from 100 Bayswater Road. Perhaps this was where Barrie first encountered George, Jack, and Peter Llewelyn Davies while walking his Saint Bernard dog Porthos.

Travel Inspiration #1: Brit Film & TV

I have spent an inordinate amount of my life watching British films and tv series, especially since Netflix was invented. Growing up I was mostly at the mercy of my local PBS station or A&E so I was thrilled to finally have unlimited access to shows other than Monty Python, As Time Goes By, Pride & Prejudice, and whoever was playing Ms. Marple. 

But, as much as I enjoy the intricate story lines and compelling characters, with each new viewing I became more and more drawn to the landscape and settings: the Peak District, Yorkshire, Lyme Park--pretty much anywhere in Wiltshire. (IMDB has been incredibly helpful in providing filming locations.) 

Though I studied abroad in London for a summer, my time spent outside the city was limited to a few day trips here and there. So when I started planning my trip I knew I wanted to visit these places. (This was further compounded by my desire to visit certain literary landmarks like Haworth, but more on that later) Basically, I want my summer to look like both versions of  Pride and Prejudice, this version of Wuthering Heights, and 1993's The Secret Garden:

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Anything look familiar?