Just beyond my window, the ancient city wall stretches across the horizon. Below it, a bustling street that would soon fill with clockwork drivers and passerby pedestrians. Looming over the quiet conversations and respectfully moderate city noise, the Canterbury Cathedral serves as the most prominent skyline landmark. From my snug vantage point, I observe the subtle winter sun dancing across the fervent spires. On special afternoons, the great crossing tower illuminated a delicate orange. This rare January occurrence is seen best from the burial mound in Dane John Gardens. My husband and I wander to the memorial obelisk, sitting on its iron benches and admiring the cityscape. We meander along pavements and footpaths, transfixed by Canterbury’s architectural beauty and the lush green of its nearby farmland. I envision the ever-changing eras that these lands endure.
Our daily adventures bring us through the former northern reach of the Roman Empire and reveal a constant quest of modernity. Canterbury boasts with historical relevance and a politely spunky demeanor. Perusing book shops and side streets, we discover a beguiling way to waste an afternoon. We visit the public library featuring fine works from Thomas Sidney Cooper. An enchanting look into Canterbury’s past rests in every background, brush stroke, and painstaking detail of sheep and bovines. Gallivanting to the far edges of town we gain perspectives like that of Cooper, albeit more houses and buildings now dot the countryside. Regardless, the obvious allure isn’t lost in urbanization. At a certain hour, the Cathedral gates stand open for free roaming. Amber lights reveal the intricacy of the church’s outer design. Curious to what beauty lies within, we attend a service. Grandiose and awe-inspiring, the sanctuary fills with faithful parishioners and reverent guests. Unexpectedly more impressive than the surrounding venue, the church choir lets out the most angelic notes. The service was an immersive look into the Cathedral’s timeless culture and traditions.
Hoping to uncover the gems of Canterbury, our trio attempted to practice something just second to spirituality: gastronomy. We sought delicious meals with great atmospheres. As with any city that attracts tourists, it’s hard to differentiate between truly good food and well marketed establishments. By our first bite at the Refectory Kitchen, we evidently chose a worthy location. Our entire party cleared their plates with no crumbs left behind. Along our street scouting, we located Ze Sandwich Bar. A place where the tastiest baguettes are enjoyed outside on the simple patio or packed away for the next stop.
The county Kent, also referred to as the Garden of England, stretches southeast of London to the Strait of Dover. Throughout these charming and somewhat medieval lands, various routes conveniently lead to all possible points of interest. From our flat’s front door in Canterbury to the quiet shores of Whitstable (specifically to our cozy fireside table within the Old Neptune), we follow the Crab & Winkle Way. My sister joins us for this brisk hike and our trio spends about four hours exploring the lands that lie between these historic towns.
Although hiking is our preferred method of travel, the accessibility and ease of riding buses allowed us to spend more time in nearby destinations. The first of which we rode to the coastal town of Hythe, hopping off at the Quarry Road stop. We followed Castle Dr to a surprisingly beautiful view south towards St. Leonards Church. As we approached, the late winter breeze filled the otherwise silent air of the cemetery surroundings. We initially sought to view the ossuary, with its infamously preserved collection of bones, but misaligned our timing with crypt season. A mosaic of light beams cast through the stained glass windows creates a more poetic sight nonetheless. Descending the church steps, we wander towards a stone shore with beached boats. After taking our baguette lunch break atop a wooden groyne, we relish the midday break in the clouds. We retrace our footsteps back towards yet another bus stop. Riding until the end of the line, we stepped out into the dystopian coastline of Dungeness. We then follow a lonely road to reach the picturesque striped lighthouse. It sat so solemn yet idyllic, somehow stoic yet playful.
Our next spontaneous day-trip brought us to creative and forlorn Margate. Gloomy skies mirror a dejected spirit that lingers in its streets and inside the personalities of its shopkeepers. This era will no doubt be one day grieved by hipsters throughout England, the time when Margate felt forgotten yet undiscovered. The wondrous steps of a public swimming past life, reminiscing on the glamorous days of long ago beachgoers, now lead to an empty tidal pool. Yet the excitement is still buried somewhere in that sand, awaiting a cultural excavation. After our walk along the sea wall, we mosey to the Carl Freedman gallery and browse the colorful and provocative Ken Kiff exhibit. A most refreshing lesson can be learned inside art galleries, one that I believe everyone should embrace. You shouldn’t “like” a piece of art, you should find inspiration within it. To me, that’s an artist’s sole responsibility: to channel what inspires them. Here in this little seaside town, a great effort is being made to restore that intriguing value. Apparent attempts to revive creation and imagination permeates all that is seemingly dilapidated, making Margate a place of overlooked artistic evolution.
Taking a bus from Margate, we reach Broadstairs. A striking contrast from our city exploration, the orange sand and white rock of Botany Bay demand patient observation. Whether standing beside the glorious formations or taking them in from the cliffside, their humble beauty persisted. The evening light show started up and we allowed ourselves to enjoy this infrequent display of majestic outbursts.
Each adventure, that takes us from Canterbury, inevitably ends in half to an hour rides back along the various bus lines serving Kent. In the white noise of engine whirring, I frequently mull over the many pilgrimages to and from this great city. Ours seem so distant and detached from the olden methods, yet they hold a similar reverence and appreciation. When seeing the Cathedral’s presence in the sky once more, a shared emotion extends from the earliest spectators to its present onlookers.