Circle Access
Then there's "ordnance survey", which is Great Britain's National Mapping Agency. This is just so remarkably elegant, it's hard to tell where to even begin. First of all, Great Britain has a National Mapping Agency! How cool is that? I suppose we have the US Geological Survey, but do they make maps? Study rocks? Kind of hard to tell, isn't it? But a National Mapping Agency - there's a set of chaps who know what they are up to. But then, instead of keeping that as their name, they go with the far more sophisticated Ordnance Survey. Because if you don't know what an Ordnance Survey is (the National Mapping Agency, of course) or what they produce (beautifully detailed maps), then you are probably too dodgy for their products anyway. Semantically brilliant in every way!
Finally, there's the treat we experienced last night, called Circle Access. It's where, after hours, they lower the ropes and a small group of people can mingle with the rocks at Stonehenge. You can access the circle, one of the most ancient, stories circles on the planet. In America, this might be called the "premium tour" or "your backstage pass to history!" You would have to pay a lot of money for it and book it years in advance. It would be hyped with radio ads saying "be there!" But here, most people don't even know it exists. I saw it in one guide book, went on the website, where it said they were mostly booked up and to call for more information. I called, a person actually answered the phone, and she told me that we were in luck because she had a few slots opened for Tuesday night, August 4th. Did I want them? Yes please.
We rented our little car and set out on our journey. First lesson learned: having all the cars on a street parked in the same direction does NOT mean it's a one way street. Second lesson: driving in the right lane because you think it's a one way street while everyone else is in the left lane can save time and elicit many stares. But after this single transgression, the trip was uneventful.
We had decided to go to Salisbury before going to Stonehenge, to visit its famous 13th century cathedral and have some dinner. This is where Ava and I briefly turned into my parents, driving a small car through the narrow streets of a very old European city, me complaining about her navigation and she telling me that I better damn well stop complaining and if I just go up there and make a left turn we'll be just fine. Later, over a fine Italian meal just a few steps from the cathedral, washed down with a large glass of red wine, we attributed the entire exchange to hunger.
The Salisbury Cathedral was indeed magnificent. The practicing choir and soaring organ gave us a great backdrop to explore the numerous chapels and corridors. The new font creates a reflecting pool right in the nave of the cathedral. And the Magna Carta - THE Magna Carta - presents a great opportunity to give a civics lesson to an 11 year old. "You know how you have certain rights? Well this is why."
A girl by the font in the nave
After dinner we piled back in the little car, deftly navigated our way out of town in a resounding show of marital cooperation, and arrived at Stonehenge well ahead of our appointed hour. We first toured the site with the common folk, staying behind the ropes but knowing full well that as soon as all the little people left we would take our proper place among the stones. Soon enough, they did and we did.
I am Circle Access. I am powerful.
And man, that is just remarkably cool. You put hands on stones, trying to sense what this exact spot was like over five thousand years ago, where this same stone stood in this same spot. You imagine the burials and the celebrations, the equinoxes perfectly marked by shadows. You take pictures. You put the camera away, and capture the indelible experience.
There is a group of people holding a ceremony in the middle, holding hands and occasionally chanting. They break up and start chatting in little groups. The rain falls a bit harder. There are only two kids among us, and they find the pure joy of trying to catch the fresh water as it drips from one of the granite stones. Theirs is the only laughter, and I'm so proud they are mine.
New rain + old rocks = joy
Later, we drive home. The rain stops, a nearly full moon comes out. The M4 is closed (imagine if 101 was closed from SFO to the Bay Bridge) and we are shunted onto surface streets. The marital navigational cooperation continues, despite some significant setbacks. "We should be near Notting Hill Gate now. Wait a minute, what building is that? Is that the Natural History Museum? Oh crap. What's that? Is that Harrod's? How did we get here?"
But communing with Stonehenge gives perspective to every moment: "Oh well, at least I finally got to see Harrod's."
