The Last Pilgrimage

The Last Pilgrimage: Canterbury and London
So where did I leave off, once upon a time when I was traveling the world ? Coming home is always more complicated than one assumes, so here I am a week and a half back in Florida time traveling to the huge gate that controls the entry to the Canterbury Cathedral precincts, on my own sort of pilgrimage to favorite sites from my year in England 1978-79. Between Anne-Marie and the goofy animatronics at the Canterbury Tales tourist attraction I am coming to understand that a pilgrimage is not necessarily a form of penance or obligation but is in fact - or can be - hugely entertaining travel to deeply inspiring places that teach, heal, and enlighten in an infinite number of ways. I loved Canterbury Cathedral then and just as much now, with its soaring nave, complex vaulting, effigies of archbishops a thousand years passed, and even the tomb of Edward the Black Prince (he's the one in the chain mail). But above and beyond all of these is the myth, the legend, and the reality of Thomas Becket, that troublesome 12th century priest that Henry 2 sent his four knights to murder inside the cathedral itself. Shortly thereafter Becket was elevated to sainthood by Pope Alexander, and propelled Canterbury Cathedral to England's Pilgrimage Site #1. The ensuing riches that came to the church allowed for incredible expansion of the edifice, to include extensive documentation of Thomas Becket's many posthumous miracles in the stained glass windows surrounding the high altar where his remains were showcased for centuries in a golden coffer. However, Henry 8 decided that the whole thing had to go when he took over governance of the Church of England following his highly problematic divorce and remarriage to Anne Boleyn, and now all that remains of Becket in Canterbury Cathedral is his name on the floor where he was murdered, a candle burning in the central nave on the former site of his reliquary, and, of course, the sinuous curves in the stone stairs worn down by hundreds of years of pilgrims. Amazing. And of course, Canterbury doesn't stop there, either - we visited excavations of the original Roman town, the ruins of the Norman Castle, the lodging houses for the gazillion pilgrims, the flint facades of the Victorian buildings, and ended up with a charming boat ride enthusiastically promoted and narrated by recent Canterbury University graduates. Regretfully, after two busy days we checked out of our 600 year old coaching inn, and jumped on the trains for London.
The final stops on our whirlwind tour were another kind of pilgrimage, to favorite museums and must-see-again art works in the British Museum (5000 year old socks, Neolithic gold and African pottery), the Tate Britain (contemporary installations, PreRaphaelite narratives, and JMW Turner's astonishing and ethereal landscapes), the Victoria and Albert (the wonders of the newly renovated ceramics floor), and the British Library (the Magna Carta and Paul McCartney's lyrics for 'Yesterday'). Not to mention kicking around Carnaby Street, visiting the legendary Liberty department store, navigating the underground like pros, and continuing my love affair with hard cider. And then, after this extraordinary action-packed and positively refulgent two weeks it was time to go home - to fly from Heathrow to New York, to take a bus to Newark, to fly to Miami, and then to make the last short hop across the swamp to Fort Myers. Just wonderful.