As I got off the Sunderland-bound train, I muttered “Of course, constable,” in my finest cockney slang to the police officer who kindly asked me to quit smoking in the station. No need to become a wanted man in another country. “Ah, York Minster,” I thought as I walked out of the station, “still there, still with your hunchback, whacking out tunes in inspired bell jam-sessions. Hit those notes Quasimodo.” If there was one thing I had to do while I was here, it was to go to the National Railway Museum, single handedly the most unlikely place that one could think would be fun, but which every single person who has been raves about.
It had been a year and a half since I had been in York, having done a two-term stint here in 2009. I had lived at the dank, former Goodricke College, learning the ins and outs of British life, which, if we’re honest, consists of far too much tea, and perhaps an unhealthy amount of Marmite. I had returned because of a fortuitous turn of events with money. How often does a young American get a chance to go to Europe for an extended vacation, at least nowadays? Everything was as usual in York town center with one glaring exception: Poundworld stopped selling Prawn Cocktail Pringles. This might seem like a small issue to most, but the prawn flavour hasn’t quite made it over to America. I shed a tear knowing that the tongue-ripping, pupil-dilating (à la Requiem for a Dream), MSG soaked crisps are no longer one pound.
What visit to York would be complwithout a trip to Evil Eye? On a quick side note, if you travellers ever find yourselves in Champaign, Illinois (the state where Chicago is), there is a bar called The Blind Pig – voted one of the top 50 bars in the U.S- that is strikingly similar to Evil Eye, with beds to lounge or pass out in and an array of international beers on tap. I had heard legends of the Evil Zombie, but I had never dabbled in the occult drink. Combining six shots of rum with one of absinthe sounds like a fantastic idea in any country, but restrictions on absinthe in puritanical America make it all the more enticing. After two Zombies, our night was pretty much determined to be amazing- and forgotten. Needless to say the dancing was haphazard and messy. But if there’s one thing that was relearned that night out, it was that going out in York on the weekends is a risky decision; someone in our group got started on for dancing with a girl by a ‘bloke’ (as you say) who wasn’t even with her. What an alpha male!
I was only able to visit the York campus once on this trip. It was good to see that the post-structuralism inspired architecture that dominates campus is still structurally sound, at least visibly. The new Berrick Saul Building looks good, although it sticks out like Michael Jackson at a USSR comrade conclave. My time, however, was mostly spent at the Quiet Place, where Victorian architecture stands awkwardly in the middle of this mixture of architectural forms. But the Quiet Place still offers one of the most relaxing spots on campus to talk, study, or to simply watch the ducks.
One of my favorite aspects of the city of York is how comfortable it is to walk in the city, as well as in the university’s campus. As the often wise, more often ridiculous Werner Herzog states on his website, “Tourism is sin, to travel on foot virtue.” Travelling quickly through places is, to me, like pulling someone at a club; you have a good time, you see the surface, but you don’t get to know much, it is more of a disassociation than interaction. This is why York worked for me when I studied there; the slowed pace of the city offered a more intimate experience with English life in general, something that was purely different from life in America.
I would be remiss not to mention the real reason for my travels: the people. During Easter when I was studying at York, I spent the entire five weeks travelling Europe. Coming back to York became exciting because it put into stark contrast the experience of seeing buildings, things, history, with the experience of sharing and interacting with people. While I wouldn’t put all of my eggs in either basket, it made me realize how both need to complement one another, and how York offered the pace to experience both. Without the hospitality and friendship of the people I met in York, my experience would have been entirely different, and considerably less remarkable. Chuffed! (As you say).
I still have this sneaking suspicion that I forgot to do something while I was visiting. The Railway Museum! Dammit!