It’s spring in England. Honestly, the stereotypes about terrible British weather are lies–it’s been gorgeous, warm, and sunny almost every day here for the past month. It’s almost too good to be true, and I’m waiting for the spring rains to batter this town. For now though, my window is open and my coat is off. Since I’m only about 10-15 miles from the coast, the air is breezy and warm but not too warm to scorch. Maybe it’s just a mild winter and spring, but either way, I’m happy to be missing the usual long winters in PA.

It might be so beautiful because I’m studying in Canterbury– the hub of the county Kent, which is often dubbed “The Garden of England” for, well, obvious reasons. The lush grass, countryside, and rolling farm hills surround multiple small towns on and near the coast of the Channel. It’s also a rather rich (or “posh) part of the country, near to the continent, the water, and to inland England as well. Because of this, seagulls are everywhere, the fish and chips are especially good, and I can travel to the ocean in 40 minutes by bus.  

Yesterday, on my day off, a few friends and I ventured to the seaside resort town of Broadstairs to spend a lazy day at the beach. While other beaches such as Dover are covered in pebbles, this one had real sand–although it was more brown than the sand I’m used to, from the Outer Banks–and the wonderful weather made me wonder if I was really still in England, but in another way, it was essentially English: the architecture near the seaside seemed lazy and Brighton-esque almost, colorful, and summery. (The climate here is mild, so the temperature usually stays between 40 and 75 degrees year round.)  People lounged or played football (American soccer) on the beach. We took our shoes off and sat by the sea for a while before heading off to walk along the white cliffs.

Broadstairs is known for being Charles Dickens’ haunt from 1837, and the once-home of Mary Pearson Strong now stands as the Dickens House Museum. Although he never actually lived in this house, it served as the inspiration for the character of Betsey Trotwood in David Copperfield. His actual house, which has now been renamed from Fort House to Bleak House, stands at the top of the cliffs, and here, he finished David Copperfield and began Bleak House. The house is privately owned, but tours will let you see his bedroom (where Queen Victoria once slept!), some manuscripts, and even his sitting room as he described it. Although I didn’t get to see Bleak House this time around–we were walking along the cliffs looking for a famous archway that we could never find–I definitely want to return and see it. One of the main reasons I came to England was to see the places my favorite authors lived and wrote, and it’s crazy that I’m currently living a mere bus ride away from where Dickens himself once lived. Here’s a picture of the house. It looks stunning. I’m kicking myself for not insisting on finding it yesterday:

In lieu of visiting the house, however, we walked along the white cliffs–as I said, looking for an archway/tunnel where you could walk through the cliffs. We didn’t find it, but we did see some mini-caves, which occurred naturally through erosion and the brittle quality of the stone (which I assumed to be chalk? It rubbed off on my hand). What never ceases to amaze me is how these magnificent, historical places (such as the cliffs or historical houses) aren’t venerated or roped off: they’re just there, for everyone to walk by. In America, we have to grab and store all the history we can, but here, they have to get rid of it, keep it from piling up, just to make room for the new and the now. Canterbury is a prime example of this, and I’ll post pictures later of the crumbling Roman wall in the center of the city. What I’m getting at, however, is that there weren’t any plaques or tours to tell us about the Broadstairs or the cliffs–at least not where we were walking. There was just the gorgeous sea and the white cliffs.

We walked so far along the coast, in fact, that we ended up in the next coastal town over, Ramsgate! It was even ritzier than Broadstairs, with the same Victorian, colorful architecture and stunning views of the sea. Dozens of boats nested in the harbor like little birds, gleaming and bobbing slowly. A beautiful garden took up an entire square near the harbor, and pictures just don’t do it justice. By this time, the sun was setting, and we had to catch our bus back. I loved seeing the English coast on a sunny day, and honestly, I want to go back.

Location: Broadstairs, UK