Olivia Skjervold

“England”: as Seen on TV

Riding a bus to the Lake District I watched the landscape to the left of the road drop away to reveal a view of the  quintessential English, wide, rolling green hills. From Peter Rabbit, Jane Eyre, and Masterpiece classics, the phrase “imagine England” is practically synonymous with the nation’s countryside. Just like tea with milk and sugar or rainy weather, pastoral landscapes are something most travellers expect to encounter during a tour of England. All of us on the bus took out our cameras to photograph the misty landscape, dotted with grazing sheep and criss-crossed with stone walls. I heard someone in the seat behind me say, “it looks just like the movies!”. They were right. Aside from the occasional piece of modern farm equipment or satellite dish, the bright green hills that unfolded in front of me were remarkably unaltered from the image I had already formed in my mind of the countryside based off of PBS period dramas and Hollywood movies of fantastical feudal villages.

I remember once when I was in High School, I met an exchange student from France. I asked her what she thought of America and if it was hard to adjust to a place so far from home. She answered saying that adjusting hadn’t been as hard for her as she thought it might be. She explained that she had been exposed to a lot of American media and pop culture throughout her life, making America almost feel familiar. I remember being slightly put off with the idea that so much of American culture could be summed up simply within Hollywood movies. However, I’ve found myself finally understanding the sentiments that exchange student described as I began to tour around England. Having seen depictions of “England” throughout countless movies, paintings, storybooks and TV shows, I had formed my own image of what England was supposed to be like. This version of England existed completely within my imagination and I did not expect any of it to match my expectations in reality. However, upon arriving here, I found bits and pieces of this imagination were indeed real. The crumbling Scarborough castle sat right on the cliffs like something right out of a fairy tale, the peaceful countryside, the mist, row houses, and cobbled streets all out of cinema. Upon visiting these places, they came out of imagination and into reality.

Of course, only fractions of England matched these cinematic expressions, but the English tourist industry seems to have caught on that the imagination is powerful marketing tool. The heavily costumed tours of York Chocolate Story, Haunted Ghost walking tours, and the Jorvik Centre are examples just within the city walls of York of heritage sites that offer highly theatrical interpretations of history. Often humorous and even bordering on cheesy, the iterative approach to history does seem to be a great way to spark a visitors’ interest in the site. I will admit, after learning that Bram Stoker’s Dracula was inspired by Whitby Abbey, I was much more inclined to see it. I have not even read Dracula myself, but I had enough cultural context for the story for it to exist in my imagination. Upon arriving and touring the Abbey, the site was able to take on a life of its own. Having an imaginative context for the Abby allowed my experience there to be relatable, the pictures I took already connected to a place in my imagination. The same was true for the moors outside Haworth. After having read works by the Brontë sisters, walking along the hillsides became a much more personal experience knowing that the same views had inspired such famous writers.

I found it interesting that outside of London, the Lake District was one of the most heavily visited “tourist” areas of the United Kingdom. It seems correct that after the global urbanization of London, tourists next come to the green spaces of England seeking the “traditional” England.  Tourists want to see the places that harken back to their imagined ideas of England, often of Beatrix Potter or even J.K. Rowling. These places aren’t really real but the authors behind them based them off of real places. Fiction comes out of reality and then becomes that reality. Sometimes it can be hard to tell where the fiction ends and reality begins. While I was in Whitby, I walked up a long set of stone stair cases to the church that perched on top of the cliffs. The church was surrounded by rows and rows of old, jagged headstones, worn away by years of salty wind. Just behind the church, the Abbey was visible. Along the side of the staircase was a very steep road, with deep ridges of stones protruding from the road like speed bumps. I learned from a guide at the Abbey that those ridges were there to keep the carriages that carried the heavy coffins up to the church from sliding backwards back down the steep incline. This morbid detail seemed like just the kind of thing to belong to the place that inspired Dracula.  

It could be that England itself is a theatrical place. The constant rain and mist adds a certain level of cinematic gloom and mystery that I haven't found matched in the Midwest. Stepping out for long walks in the rain has not hindered my enjoyment of traveling abroad because I expect rain and fog from England. As nice as it would be for there to be sunshine and gentle breezes every time I went out on a day trip, I know I would feel cheated that I was missing out on the “real” England.

There is a danger to this kind of romanticization of a place. As entertaining as being swept away with you imagination is, it doesn’t capture the complexities of a place that you can’t imagine.  Whitby is a real place that can’t be reduced down to fish and chips and vampires. It’s real, with a long history filled with real people who lived out their real lives there until their very real deaths. If movies really could accurately replicate the experience of being someplace else so old, saturated with culture and history, nobody would leave their sofa. The real satisfaction of traveling some place new doesn’t come from maintaining an illusion of an idyllic fantasy world but from witnessing the cultural and physical nuances of a foreign place.

Whitby Abbey, inspiration for Dracula

Whitby again

Tea for One, Tea for Many

Tea for One, Tea for Many


Let me ask that you, the reader, to take a moment to think about your favorite hot drink. All around the world there is a variety of choices, the most common of which are, tea, coffee and cocoa. In a big city all three are easily available as you run about your daily business. For me, I’ve found that I like to always have a way to have my favorite hot beverage. That is, tea at any time; preferably, green tea, but if I must have something else, I will first go for an herbal tea and then for black tea. White teas are entirely off my list, as is coffee,  for two different reasons. And then, there’re chai teas.

I know what kind of tea I like best out of all others though. Jasmine tea is almost always good even though there are a few jasmine teas which don’t taste at all like jasmine and instead taste like bubblegum (a very interesting, if undesirable, flavor) or simply like regular green tea. Out of the various bagged jasmine teas I have tried, so far, my favorites are Bigelow’s Jasmine and Whittard Jasmine. The Bigelow’s is an American brand which I get when I am at home. The Whittard’s is a brand I found here in the U.K. Between the two, I would be hard pressed to say which I like more. They both have distinctive flavors which I have no way of properly articulating the differences of without a direct comparison. The best I can do is to say that the Bigelow’s has more of a rounded full flavor, while the Whittard’s has a more mellow flavor. Both of them share a more delicate flower flavor.

Black teas generally taste the same to me. If I had to make a comparison to a plant with this kind of tea it would be to trees. This is because black teas are much more robust, more powerfully flavored than green teas. There is one cup of black tea which I have had which broke the rule of generally tasting the same. I will never drink it again as it tasted like dirt. This was an accidental black tea, which someone made for me, (it was supposed to be regular green as far as I recall) and so, I drank it. If I were at home, I wouldn’t touch black tea if it could be helped. While it is generally drinkable, it is not exactly good. While I’ve been in England, I’ve taken up drinking a single cup of Typhoo black tea in the morning, no milk or sugar. This is the same as I would do if I were home and drinking black tea. However, at my internship, there are two breaks for tea. The tea is Yorkshire black tea, which most of the other people there drink with milk in it. At first, this confused me slightly though I did not question it as I have an aunt who drinks her tea with milk.

After a few weeks, I tried milk in tea while on a trip out to the moors. It was a much gentler flavor at that point. Since then I have tried milk in my tea a few other times. Apparently, there is a learning curve for the ratio of tea to milk. I’ve gotten it wrong, mostly with too much milk, but I drink the tea anyway unless it’s truly nasty. Chai is not my cup of tea. Never, ever give me chai tea. I have tried chai tea exactly once, but based on the scent of other chai teas, scent being a large part of taste, I will not like any other chai tea any more than I liked the first one.

Herbal teas, though, are absolutely awesome. There are so many different types. You have echinacea, peppermint, chamomile, and all sorts of others. These teas can actually be recommended by doctors (it’s very rare but if you ask, a doctor will tell you it’s “most likely just a placebo effect”). Anyway, while in London, I got an absolutely amazing cup of peppermint tea. It was loose-leaf from a stop-and-go type of place. Peppermint tea on a cold day where you decide to go walking about is perfect to warm back up with. Plus, whether or not it really works, it does seem to help with congestion. Chamomile for me, is the perfect tea before bed. It may have a slightly odd taste but it’s a lot better than black tea.

So, as I’ve been wandering around all of York, I’ve noticed a lot of cafes or restaurants or even straight up tea shops. It does seem fitting since England is a country known for its love of tea. Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to do more than go to the shops to buy jasmine tea for my dorm room. Hopefully, with only a few weeks left, I will have enough time to get to one of the cafes. Even better would be to take with me someone who likes tea as much as I do. For now, I will simply think of how I perceive such an experience might go. 

Cliff Walking and Ireland's Eye

Cliff Walking and Ireland’s Eye

During my two day stay in Dublin, I had the opportunity to travel up to Howth to walk along the cliff trails as well as the Ireland's Eye island that can be seen from the pier. Using the DART train, the ride up to Howth took roughly thirty minutes and the walk to the start of the trails can be a little difficult to find.

(Waiting for the train at 6:30am)

There are four cliff walks that one can traverse upon, each ranging from taking an hour and a half to four hours in length. I personally took the easiest trail that would take at most two hours to complete. The cliff walks are true to their name in having the trails as close to the cliff edge as possible with as minimal danger as possible. The paths themselves are very narrow and hiking boots are definitely a must when traversing.

(Walking along the cliff path)

There are also benches built into the side of the cliff placed periodically on the path for whenever a person might want to sit, rest, and enjoy the view. I arrived to Howth before the sunrise and was able to watch the sun rise as I walked along the path and I highly encourage others who are planning on doing any cliff walking in Howth to walk during sunrise for the view is phenomenal.

(View of the sun rising as I walk)

There is also the bonus of being alone to take in the view at your own pace. I truly felt by myself when I was walking along the trails because there was just me, the trail, and the ocean crashing against the cliffs on my right; everything else felt insubstantial. While walking, I didn't really talk or voice my awe in fear of disrupting the sense of peace the landscape brought to me. It was very much a watch and observe the landscape as well as feeling the experience instead of voicing my thoughts and ruining the ambience. The cliff walk definitely offerred the positive feelings of isolation without actually being isolated.

Upon finishing the cliff walk, I returned to the town and headed towards the west pier to travel to Ireland's Eye island by boat. There is a company that does ferries around and to the island on the daily and for a trip around the island, it'll cost ten euros while a trip to the island will cost fifteen euros and the time duration on the island is two and a half hours, although I heard that on the weekends, people could stay overnight on the island.

(View of Ireland's Eye Island from west pier)

The boat ride to the island takes fifteen minutes and it travels around the island before temporarily docking to allow people to get on the island. The island itself is uninhabited by people with its only habitants being rabbits, seabirds that were nesting while I was there and the occasional seal that I had the opportunity to see multiple times. It used to be inhabited by people since there was a medieval tower as well as the remnants of a church structure that could be seen and explored. Other places that people could explore was the beach with plenty of seashells and rocks for skipping and the highest place on the island which was called the summit.

(View of the church)

(The medieval tower)

Of course, with the seabirds nesting, part of the island was sectioned off as to not disturb the birds. Upon my two and a half hours on the island, I truly felt isolated and in a sense free from the world and its trouble. It was a different sense of isolation than when I was walking along the cliffs because the island is completely cut off from the mainland besides the ferry that comes to drop people off on the island. I was very much on my own on this island with very little help should I injure myself. It was a place that I used to reflect internally as well as grounding myself in the who, what, and why of my place and self-being. It was an experience I didn't know I needed until I did it and I would do it again given the opportunity.

(Overlook of the island facing Howth)

🎼

"Walking on the Dead" By Olivia Skjervold

Walking on the Dead

By Olivia Skjervold

    I distinctly remember during my first month of living in York an afternoon where I bought a delicious cup of hot chocolate. I sat down on a bench in the City Centre Plaza to enjoy people watching and some live street music. Upon looking down at the stone work beneath my feet I noticed a name carved into the rock. I looked a little closer trying to distinguish the name of the patron who had donated a large enough amount of money to the the plaza to get his named carved into the rock. I discovered this “patron” had been 7 years old. This was odd, so I looked at the stone next to it, and the one next to that. I realized that nearly all of the stone blocks in the plaza were carved with names and dates, and many not exceeding the age of 17. It gradually dawned on me that the pavement of the plaza was not made possible by the donations of wealthy child philanthropists but by their tombstones.

    Take a walk to the gardens by the museum and you will admire the lovely flowers in the gardens beside the gates. You will also find, jutting out of the flower beds like avant garde sculptures, Roman coffins. Start a climb around the city walls you will find a cozy coffee shop tucked into the tower entrance. Step out on the tiny backdoor of this coffee house, you can enjoy a cup of tea on a patio that overlooks the “killing floor” of the gate, where invading armies were doused with hot oil. If you have children and fancy some fun, take a ride on an old Victorian carousel right outside the old courthouse. The site has been an age old site of entertainment for centuries since it was previously York’s designated site for public executions. From battles, to plague, to horrific murders throughout history, York as well as the rest of the United Kingdom, makes it no secret that people not only lived here, but died here too.

The killing floor and Gatehouse Coffee

    In the Midwest of the US, we have separate spaces for the living and the dead. The cemetery my grandfather is buried is a half hour drive out of town from the rural church where his funeral service took place. Even the city, where there is less space to tuck the dead away, the enormous Lakewood cemetery, is almost invisible behind its pointed black fence. Although the city cemeteries are usually surrounded by public walking spaces, the cemeteries themselves are easily and usually avoided by foot traffic. One day, a friend from high school and I thought we’d have an adventure and climbed under the fence to the Lakewood cemetery to explore the grounds. Although the cemetery was technically a public space we both felt as if we shouldn’t have been there. The cemetery in Minneapolis was a place that felt like it was supposed to be off-limits to us. I remember us brainstorming as we walked what we might say to someone if they stopped us or questioned us as to why we were in the cemetery without a funeral party. Of course, nobody questioned us. Nobody else was in that area of the cemetery except for a few landscape artists.

    The closest kind of crossover between the spaces for the living and dead I have experienced in the US was on the east coast in Virginia. While I was visiting, I went to an old church that had been famously attended by George Washington. Surrounding the the church was a small graveyard. I remember being fascinated by how old the tombstones in that graveyard were. The graves were so tightly packed together it was impossible to walk around the yard without stepping on them. I remember worrying that I was being disrespectful to the dead by climbing stepping all over the graves. I remember taking pictures of the tombstones because I thought they looked creepy and would be good material for a ghost story to tell my friends later. After snapping pictures, I felt a little guilty for treating the graveyard so much like a halloween attraction.

In the UK however, there small churchyard graveyards like the one I visited in Virginia are everywhere. In fact, spaces of death are some of the most heavily touristed parts of the the country, the torture chambers of tower hill to the Bronte parsonage. The United Kingdom is so rich with recorded history that it seems everywhere one turns an important battle took place or a famous figure once walked. Although both English and American cultures view death as a tragic and anxiety inducing topic, the historical role of death in the UK seems to play a much more visible part of everyday life than in America. Perhaps historical cartographies like the black plague has normalized into public spaces, or, simply that time itself has put enough distance between the living and dead, as the majority of publicly visible places of death in the UK are very ancient. America has also been inhabited by humans for thousands of years as well. The Midwest is the site of hundreds of ancient Native American burial mounds, however, these burial mounds are rarely acknowledged or respected. Modern Americans are likely encountering a similar number of burial sites as British civilians, but without realizing it. The UK acknowledges a longer stretch of its land’s history, meaning there is much more history for it to share.

Graveyard containing over 42,000 bodies in a small churchyard of Haworth, UK

Although throughout my travels of the US I have found plaques commemorating gruesome battle scenes or sites of death, the information for these events are usually tucked away off-site or inside visitors’ centers. It would be very rare to find the kind of crossover between death and living space that I discovered in York. I asked some of my British flatmates at breakfast this morning about what they thought about the gravestones that paved the plaza. They responded saying that they had noticed the tombstones too but hadn’t given it much thought as weird. Clearly the crossover of death and living spaces it wasn’t something they marked as out of the ordinary. To be so completely surrounded by death seemed to just be an indication of being surrounded by history.

I think it’s especially interesting to look at how this crossover manifests itself into ghost stories. Ghost stories seem to be the most popular way of coping with the realities of death and history. With so much recorded history, York is famous for being one of the most “haunted” places in England. “Haunted-ness” is a strange sort of phenomena because it acknowledges the historical reality of death but also dramatizes death in a way that is palatable, thrilling, and marketable. Nearly every pub and every cafe in York boasts about it’s “haunted” guests. To me, this begs the question: do ghost stories fictionalize death? Even cheapen it?

Sign from a “haunted” cafe in York

Death is an uncomfortable topic to talk about. Even though York doesn’t actively hide the realities of death as much as Midwest America does, my flatmate’s response to my question didn’t suggest that the prevalence of death makes death a more pleasant subject to think about. York simply seems to have normalized death in a way that it isn’t in Minnesota. Although death is an absolutely paralyzing reality to acknowledge, I think realizing some of the darker sides of the human experience is crucial to living a healthy life. Mortality is an equalizing factor across all people and understanding the shortness of life can provoke one to spend their time alive wisely. Analyzing a more normalized way displaying history and death has allowed me to rethink how we perceive our relationship to death in the US.

Relaxation Upon The Waters

  When living on campus, it is always nice to have a place to relax, whether it is a nearby cafe or a secluded area to sit and relax. Personally, I like to sit and relax or walk along the lakes on campus and I'm grateful for the fact that the university of York has them, one on each side of the campus. There's also a river not too far from campus that I can walk to whenever I feel the need to relax but don't want to be on campus.

  From where I am situated on campus, the closest body of water is the lake on west campus. Campus west lake is rather large; it stretches from Derwent College to Wentworth College and flows through the center of west campus.

(Central area of campus west lake)

Because of its location, there is a trail running along the edges as well as many places to sit and relax. A particular place that I like occupying is a seating area at Greg’s Place that juts over the central part of the lake. There's ample room to sit comfortably and read a book while observing the waterfowl that swims by. Whenever it's gloomy and raining or the middle of the night, this place feels like a secluded alcove in the middle of an open area that I can figuratively hide in and be separate from the world. A place where nothing disturbs me unless I want it to.

(Favorite spot at Greg’s Place)

Speaking of waterfowls, I have never seen so many congregated around one lake in my entire life. There are flocks of a variety of geese as well as mallards, moorhens, and more. They usually are swimming along together or lying along the lakeside and when they do, they often obstruct the trail. Campus west lake is a great place whenever I want to sit and observe the geese and ducks or if I want to walk along an established trail to relieve some stress without stepping in mud.

(Group of mallard ducks)

However, since the lake flows through the center of campus, there are plenty of people walking, sitting, and chatting along the trails and benches. The water of the lake is also not the best. With the number of waterfowl that occupy this lake, the water is often murky and gives off an unpleasant smell and the lake is not self cleaning because it's man made. Personally, the amount of traffic that surrounds the lake prevents me from using the lake as a place of relaxation often. I usually use it during the early morning or late night when there aren't a lot of people. If one does not mind the noise and traffic then it's a great place to relax, but if one does, I highly suggest the lake on East Campus.

  Since I live on campus west, it usually takes me five to ten minutes to walk to the campus east lake. It's worth the walk, however, because the lake is more off to the side of campus and not in the center.

(Overview of campus east lake)

Campus east lake is also relatively big and has waterfowl, although less than campus west lake. It is also the lake where the black swan - that the university of York is famous for having - can be seen, so if you want to catch a glimpse of the black swan, walking along the edge of campus east lake is your best bet.

(The black swan with its group)

The lake is also much cleaner so there aren’t any unpleasant odors and the water is very clear. Since the lake is off to the side, there are no established trails along the edge, meaning there are significantly fewer people walking along the lake, making it a very nice, quiet, and almost secluded area to relax. However, since there are no established trails, there are also no seating areas or benches alongside the edge of the lake to sit and relax. Campus east lake is more for walking and observing than sitting and observing unless you bring your own sitting stool or don't mind sitting on the grass. I don't mind that there aren't any benches because I like walking right along the edge of the lake and getting up close to the water. Being able to see the clarity the water has makes me feel like it's a gateway to the world underneath with how I can easily see through the water to what lies beneath, allowing me to forget my worries and stress that reality causes and delve into my creativity and imagination of developing other worlds that are not our own.

(Walking right along the edge)

It's definitely a great place for quiet contemplation and relaxation while one walks. Although, I do sometimes want to relax and get off of campus and for that, I usually go to the river.

  The river is called the River Ouse and is a twenty to thirty minute walk away from campus. There are plenty of benches to sit and relax well as a trail to walk along, though the trail does have some distance from the river. There is also a concrete path that juts out of the riverside where people can sit and fish but I use this path to walk right alongside the river. There's something different between walking along the river and walking along the lakes that I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's the fact that the river is not contained but rather free flowing in its sense of being, allowing deeper, more reflective thoughts to rise to the forefront of my mind. I feel like I can have deeper reflections that leads to a deeper sense of relaxation while walking along the river because the current feels like it could gather my stressful thoughts and wash them downstream, away from me. Or maybe it is the feeling of a much deeper depth to the river that makes me feel like I'm staring into the abyss.

(The concrete path alongside the river)

It is a public area so it does receive a lot of traffic where people are walking and cycling but not as much as campus west lake. There is also a bridge called the Millennium Bridge that one can cross to get to the other side and on the other side, if you follow the path, there's a park called Rowntree  Park that has a reading cafe where one can relax and read from their selection of books while getting some tea or coffee.

(Reading cafe in Rowntree Park)

I use this part of the river to relax in the afternoon after I have done some reading or studying and want to get away from campus but not too far. The area also has very few ducks and geese - unless one goes to the park - that roam around but a lot of people do bring their dogs for walks, so there are friendly creatures walking around. Overall, I personally think that the river is a great place to go whenever I want to relax and be off campus because it has both trails and benches that I can use as well as a nearby reading cafe in case I want to drink or a bite to eat.  

(View of the River Ouse from Millennium Bridge)

   

Being in York

When I first arrived in York, I was happily amazed at all the historical buildings. There is simply so much history that exists in this city. On exiting the train station when I got here, I was exhausted from all the traveling I had been doing. But the first thing I saw across the street was a wall. Not just any wall though. No, this was a wall from the time of the Romans. Even now, among the much taller, more impressive (so we are told to believe) buildings, this wall stands as an example of the way that people can overcome our limitations. The Romans had very little in the way of technology by our standards today, however, they created a concrete which no one today has managed to replicate. This is part of why so many of their buildings still stand today. If they could do that with the smaller amount of technology that they had, what can we do today?  

This is a picture of a Roman guard tower on the wall around York. Nearby I found a plaque which told a little bit of the history of the wall. As I do not remember exactly what it said, I shall not mangle the message by trying to repeat it. On the structure itself there are more signs which tell about the history and lives of the soldiers who were there as well. I have walked multiple parts of the wall and at each piece, it has had an amazing view and a sense of a world gone by. The walkways of the wall are actually not the original. The original would have been wooden structures built onto the stone, giving the soldiers more room to use defensively against invaders.

The Minster is one of the older buildings which can be seen from the wall. It is more distant but from the wall there is a sense of how large it was. If you go inside the Minster you will learn that a building, usually a church of some sort, has been there since the time of the Romans. This is something that I find to be an amazing little piece of history. What exactly was it about this place that made someone build a church on it in the first place? Afterwards, why did they keep rebuilding churches? Tradition? Perhaps. I have not looked into this, someone else likely has though the very first reason has been lost to time.

Inside, there are intricate carvings to be seen and wonderful artwork all over the building. Much like other places which have a long history and are part of the tourist industry, there are tours which can be taken. On a tour I learned that the church has multiple periods of gothic styles, which is unusual since a building started in one style was usually kept to that style until completion. Then, I climbed many flights of stairs to the top of the main tower. From the top there is a fantastic view. In the distance from one side of the tower, London can be seen, giving a sense of how immense this tower truly is. On the climb to the top there were two-hundred and fifty two steep circular stairs. Between the stairs and the roof there is a separated section of stairs that ends up going across the lower roof. Now, that was slightly terrifying.

Below the tower is a little area that is called the Shambles. The Shambles is a fantastic little space in the city center where pretty much anything can be found to buy. Loose leaf tea? They’ve got it. Harry Potter merchandise? An entire store devoted to it. A historic chocolate store? Oh yeah, that is definitely one that is in the Shambles. There are even festivals held there that, while modernised for reasons of simply a change in who is selling, they give a sense of the age of the place. This when combined with the buildings, many of which have been around for at least one century, lends an air of excitement to the area. Every time I go there it feels as though, if I just look over my shoulder at the right time, maybe I would see someone from the past. I could wander around the Shambles all day and still not find everything there is to see. The point that I am trying to make, is that so far, York has been an incredible experience.

I have an innate fascination with the unknown, as all humans who have not crushed curiosity into submission do. This is why I read, this is why I write. This is why I explore. I want to know the world, in order to do so I must know the past. For me, the past is not just the bare-bones facts which anyone could pick up and look at. I want to dig deeper, to find what lies hidden beneath. What intrigue once happened here? What stories of ancient heroes were told there? I am a story teller, I look for the stories behind that which can be seen. This is why I have come to study at York.