To Dover, to Dover

We change places yet again.

Now on my way to Dover aboard a train that splits--half goes one way at some point, half goes another. With five nights remaining before I head home, I am even more weary of this damn luggage, of filling it up and emptying it out.... For the most part, from what I've seen from trains, the majority of people here reside in row houses, not detached homes. But, perhaps it is no different here than in areas near American cities. The landscape along this route is green hills; the trees are leafless, and true spring appears to be a few weeks away. In Edinburgh, people commented on the blooming daffodils, and the owner of the B & B said that the climate has changed so much over the years, she can no longer predict when the weather will be "good."

Though the Dover train station is small, I was a bit lost, or at least disoriented, when I got off the train. I also found that I did not have a map of the city, so after checking things outside, I sat down in the station's cafe' and soothed myself with a cup of coffee. Later, after a few wrong turns and working from a mental map created from countless glances of maps of Dover available on the Internet, I made the correct turn and found the B & B. And, as I had gathered from looking at those same maps, it is on one of the busiest streets in the city. Still, the price is right and the room is nice enough: a bed, a sink, and extra chair, a window that opens. The bathroom and shower are down the hall.

Though the day was gray, I decided to hike to where, from near the train station, I thought I had seen the outline of a castle high above the city. Unencumbered by my heavy pack, walking is much easier, and I finally work my way through town, find signs that point toward the castle, and ascend a couple of steep streets and a very long sidewalk. Wet from sweat and mist, I located the ticket booth where a very nice woman gave me a discount on my admission because of the late hour. The castle itself impressed me more than the one in Edinburgh had: less touristy, less commercial, someone more "genuine." Much of my stroll around the castle grounds was in the rain, but that was truly just fine. The sun emerged just as I left the castle and headed back toward town. I stopped at one point to look out over the English Channel, and I thought of the history there, the invasions and assaults that started across the water. From what I have read, Dover itself was nearly flattened during German bombings in WWII.

I have considered crossing the channel tomorrow to visit Calais, France, but instead decide to head toward Canterbury to see how much more wet I can get in the rain that is forecast for the region.