YORK.

Historic York! A windy town of cobblestones, open air markets, buskers ranging from a boy band covering Jason Mraz to an electric violinist synthing E.L.O.-

Oh.

And lots and lots of water.

Dissolved in the air.

That you breathe.

...God, it was humid. And chilly to boot!

But!
Despite my lack of gills and a coat of fur(that the natives must have to survive there for so long), there was much to do, much to see, and many tons of fun to be had. All of my (good) pictures can be found here, but I am going to include the highlights below, just in case there is one of you navigating without a mouse, and have to tabtabtabtabtab to every link.

There are three short accounts-of-happenings after the picture break (for visual context, you see.)

[1]


[2]


[3]


[4]


[5]


[6]


Carrot cake and Lost Mice
Jaclyne and I started out with a visit to a local cafe. The walls were paper-mache'd with old sheet music scores, and the glass display case tempted us with various kinds of cake. Carrot cake and tea fired up our exploring engines, and we set off. The waitress told us that there was a large iron gate in the area with some history to it. The architect who designed the gate made two small mice his trademark feature in everything he built. However, it was nowhere to be found. In the process of searching, we stumbled into a little church with gravestones used for the stone floor, and wandered around on the effigies, admiring the crest of York proudly displayed in its modest insides. We pressed onwards, unfazed by our lost mice.

"Dear Mother..."
Wandering further led us to the "Regimental Museum!" My thought was that we might see some halberds or other medieval items, since it was right across the street from an old stone castle tower topping a steeeeeep hill. [Picture 1 is Jaclyn and Karissa at the top of that tower] The impression was soon corrected- for the better, I feel. A friendly college-aged guy ran the front desk, gave us tickets, and waved us in with a smile. Passing by a giant Moose head, we soon discovered that the entire museum was deserted. Two older men were the only other patrons there, slowly and respectfully going from display to display with their hands clasped behind their back. I would speculate that they were veterans themselves, coming to pay respect- this museum was one reasonably sized musty room that paid tribute to the full military history of England post 1800.
At first I was disappointed- I am an old-fashioned combat kinda gal, after all! But soon I discovered that the human interest part of this was just as fascinating as the swords and firearms. Jaclyn and I easily delved straight into History-nerd mode, and spent almost an hour hunched over the small, dim displays trying to decipher the scrawled handwritten notes (often practically illegible) and diaries on display next to faded uniforms and black and white pictures. We filled the room with whispers and giggles and I hope the men were amused at our enthusiasm rather than annoyed at our racket.
"Dear Mother, News from the" ... "front!" Yes, front! "is slow- there have even been talks of peace!" Oh, this guy wants to go home, I mean, if he writes to his mother this often, it m- what? "...but I hope they are not true." This guy is intense! "It would be a shame to have come this far and not to have a go at the" ... does that say swines?! It does! "To not have a go at the swines!"
As we left, the nice guy at the front desk caught us and asked with a smile if we'd like to hold a display sword. ...to which we enthusiastically responded. So we ended up holding it and mock fencing as he explained that cavalry would use this sword to thrust at footmen as they galloped by on horseback. If the horseman didn't draw his sword back from running a man through, it would snap his wrist back as he rode past, and break it. One man got the nickname "The Wrist-breaker" because he had great aim, but repeatedly failed to draw back in time.

A Ruined Abbey [3 and 4]
Although the Yorkshire Museum building was closed for repairs, a walk through the park showed that the park itself was most likely an exhibit of interest, even when the inside is open. A massive wall with the only the stone frames of old stained glass windows. Some digging on the internet back home revealed that it was once St. Mary's Abbey- one of the largest landholders in Yorkshire. When tales of Robin Hood were written, ballads, etc, Saint Mary's was the home of Robin's antagonist- the abbot! It was very eerie, and there was only a small gate through which you could glimpse the askew moss covered gravestones.

Stamp Collecting has a Use to Society Afterall [5 and 6]
In a town that has so much to offer, its not surprising that it had a very touristy vibe. We did manage to find a small, disorganized antique store hiding down the back staircase of an abandoned storefront on the edge of town. After the excitement of original documents from various wars in the Regimental Museum, it was a thrill what this shop delivered, even though at first glance it looked pretty bland.
Mainly aimed at stamp collectors, I would imagine, there were boxes of old post from the mid 1820s to the early 1900s. The main interest to *me* was what the stamps were transporting- letters, postcards, short bank notes- all in ye old scribbley handwriting, original ink, original paper, original fold marks... I nabbed two that seemed particularly interesting, and invested.

Then we went home!