Daniel Ferrante

In my on going quest to see the Wonders of the World, I recently hit four of them in four days:

The first was an original Shakespeare folio in Stratford-upon-Avon. Despite the weirdness at the visitor’s center, Stratford was somewhat enjoyable. Long before I ever thought of going there, I realized that Stratford would be a tourist trap. What I didn’t count on was the fact that it was ONLY a tourist trap. The entire place was like Main Street at Disneyland. They have raped the memory of the Bard and turned him into a money making machine…

The next day, I made it out to Stonehenge. After a winding drive out to Salisbury from Bath, we came down a long road in the middle of nowhere. Every half mile or so were signs that said, “Tank Crossing” accompanied by a drawing of a huge armoured tank. Interesting: Salisbury, home to crop circles, the great white horse drawings of Wessex, Stonehenge and secret British military bases…

Stonehenge was amazing to look at. Those massive stones whose true meanings and methods of construction can only be guessed at. I received a free audio guide with my ticket. I listened to it for about 5 seconds:

“Stonehenge, rising from the mists of time across the Salisbury plains… ” I turned it off. Somethings are better enjoyed in silence.

The next day, I went to the British Museum and saw the Rosetta Stone. Another amazing site to behold. The idea that this stone unlocked the secrets of the Egyptian hieroglyphics was astounding. Unfortunately, the museum put the stone right near the entrance. I had imagined that I would have to walk through a few halls of artifacts to see it (like the Mona Lisa at the Louvre), but nope - it was right there at the opening of the Egyptian wing.

My final day in Britian, I went to Dover. What a depressing town. And since they have NO luggage storage to speak of, I had to haul my suitcase with me all over Dover.

“Don’t mind me, sir, I’m just taking my suitcase out for a walk…”

I made my way down to the wharfs and there, rising over the channel were the gorgeous white cliffs of Dover. I wish I had remembered to bring my iPod, I’d have loved to listen to Eric Johnson’s “Cliffs of Dover” while I was there… oh well, nothing is ever perfect.

I made my way back to the train, up to London and by plane back to Paris. I am now back in Dijon, which is hard to imagine. And with just over two months left I realize just how much I am going miss living here…