What did I come to this country for? Castles! Scones! Death stairs! All that and more await us in Rochester, its castle, and then onto Rye.
After a morning tea and muffin, we make our way up to the castle. On its grounds we are ambushed by so many more festival foods and rides than we had found yesterday. There are merry go rounds and a stage and a haunted house. It’s giving small town americana festival in the best way, except we are very likely the only americans here, and there is a castle that’s about a thousand years old next to it.
More importantly, in this carnival cacophony of rides, food, and shops, I find what my heart had been set upon since yesterday: a small flower crown. They are probably for children but also are only £4 so I get one. It’s pink (duh).
Once I have completed crown sidequest, it is castle time. It’s not very busy, as most people are here for the festival. I can’t imagine it’s terribly busy normally, since Rochester isn’t exactly a hot tourist destination. It’s only £10 for entry per person, and you can get an audio guide (I do this thing). On this day, it’s a little hard to hear over the music when you’re on the first floor. That’s fine, I am like 1/8th deaf anyway.
More importantly, I read online that this castle has smelling stations and I eagerly look forward to finding one. This is probably the closest I will come to futurama’s smell-o-vision. Let’s go!
Rochester Castle was built starting in the late 11th century by our boy Gundulf of cathedral-building fame (see previous post). It was of course added onto many times, and raided at least as many times.
The main keep had four high floors and a cellar – with what looks like at least 20 foot ceilings in each room (I am bad at space so believe me at your own peril). The wood for the floors is of course gone now, but you can see where the floors would have been via the big holes in the walls (which are now occupied by pigeons).
In the main keep where the food was, the castle smell-o-vision smells like rosemary and hay. Amazing.
And joy of joys, I discover that Rochester castle has a cesspit!! I enjoy the garderobe (castle toilet), because you got to poop down a hole (it went into the cesspit!!!). Some absolute genius put a smell-o-vision in the cesspit. It doesn’t smell like poop. I am relieved? Disappointed? Confused as to why I trusted myself to sniff it in the first place?
And now we must survive death stairs and narrow hallways as we wind our way up the tower.
At the top, we are joined by pigeons and plenty of wind. It’s a bit funny to look over the cathedral next to the carousels and precious mac and cheese stand while I’m on top of a castle that’s like a thousand years old. I feel like this is just what Gundulf had in mind.
The rest of our day was spent enjoying time with wonderful friends. We finished out the festival a la a food tour together – delicious mac and cheese and donuts! We walked for a bit and perused high street and then enjoyed fruli and games together. I got to pet their amazing cat. This is officially the perfect trip.
Monday morning is a slow departure, and I finally got my first scone! Yeah! A fruit scone, which is code for RAISINS. I happen to like raisins (sultanas), so we’re happy. My scone is nice and warm and my god there’s so much clotted cream. I think I actually ordered cream with a side of scone.
I bid the dancers farewell, and the house’s parting gift to Rhett is a concussion of course.
The trains we take to Rye are way nicer than the ones we have ridden so far. Rhett fits in them, for starters. It’s three trains that take 20 minutes each, kind of annoying, but there are no bad connections, and the seats are actually comfy.
We get to Rye. Blink and you’ll miss it. It’s a pretty small town and small train stop, and our B&B (a real-ass B&B with breakfast served and everything) is in a house built in the 1500s. It’s also uphill like every which way. The streets are cobblestone and this makes pulling luggage extra fun. I am paying a price for quaintness.
We have a really big ensuite in The House with Two Front Doors. There is only one other room in this house for guests, so it’s pretty private. The beams in our room are made from old ship beams. Every floor is crooked. I have no idea if anything is level. Every step I take is literally on a different level. I could be tipping over but I’m not (is it meniere’s or this house?).
The owner’s left out a tea service set for us and there’s naturally milk for us in the fridge (bless her). As of time of writing I have not yet taken a picture of our room (??) so please enjoy these photos.
I make an afternoon out of wandering into artistic and cutesy little shops. It is so twee I might explode. Some houses have great names, the most mysterious one being “The House Opposite.” The town is a great place for art and pottery and all kinds of cool things in between! The wisteria is going nuts right now, as are some climbing roses. If it weren’t for the presence of cars, it would feel like some time travel back into medieval times.
Rhett destroyed his noggin headbutting one of the low beams in our room just before we were to go to dinner. He is fine, and a pie from an inn heals him. He is also now banned from wearing his hat indoors.
