Bath

CHAPTER 7

Boy I wish we had remembered our swim suits! Unfortunately, a trip to England, Germany, and Denmark doesn’t really inspire the notions of warm sandy beaches and suntanned bodies that normally prompt my “bring the trunks” mental note while packing.  So it was, that when we stepped off the train, walked into the main square, read the chiseled marble lintel above the entrance to a grand and venerable looking structure, which read “ROMAN BATHS” in big gold letters, and then noticed flocks of tourists, and locals alike, filing into the building with the contented look on their faces of people who are about to become serenely relaxed in an ancient bubbling hot springs… that that elusive “bring the trunks” mental note suddenly resurfaced in my brain.

Bath, as you would guess, but somehow we did not, is named after the hot spring baths that have been in use there since the Romans ran things in England, and probably long before that.

Kacey and I made the trip out to Bath for two reasons- one, we had heard it was a pretty authentic little city, with lots of history and old things to look at; and two, our friends Tim and Amy, who we had met in El Salvador, and spent a prodigious amount of time with on our South America adventure, happened to live in Bath.  We made plans to meet up after they got off of work, and in the meantime spent the daylight hours meandering around the city as part of a free walking tour.  The tour was great.  Our friends were great.  The only thing lacking was our swim suits!  Next time…