York View

Dedicated to Ashim and Sindhu.

Climbing the York Minister Tower, I kept thinking why not our education system be redone in such a way that a major part of it involved travelling? After all, that is the best way to combine education with fun. In the past three hours that I had arrived in York, I had perhaps, enjoyed myself more than Columbus had when he first set foot on the American soil. And, I had learnt about stone coffins in the Roman period, box pews in chapels and ‘Shambles’ that was house to 24 butcher shops!



York is a small historical town in the north of Britain. History oozes out of every corner of York. Every street, every building has a story to tell. Like Paul said, the building that now houses a Pizza Hut was where George Cadbury (whose name is synonymous with chocolates all over the world) learnt how to make chocolates!


Paul, a very delightful Englishman of about sixty or so, was the guide of the walking tour we took from the Exhibition Square. He belongs to the Association of Voluntary Guides, a bunch of spirited individuals who conduct walking tours across the town because they are very proud of his history and heritage. Makes me wonder how, we Indians, view our history. Sadly, our pride is more often than not, jingoistic or nonexistent.


The tour begins with a visit to a part of the City Walls where there are reusable stone coffins dating back to the Roman period. A short distance from there is St Mary’s Abbey that was plundered by Henry the VIII. It was a 50 acre Abbey that was unceremoniously brought down.


York has narrow streets that suit commuters by foot or bicycles. Walking on one such narrow street Paul, the group and I reached the 1st house in York to be constructed by brick. The design is very Dutch, said Paul. Houses, before that, were constructed with wood.


The ‘Shambles’ are an intricate set of extremely narrow roads, not very far off from the Minster. These can be a shopaholic’s delight. However, since I am not one, I took some photographs of enthusiastic shoppers and walked away. At this point, the group disbanded and I headed to the Minster.


An overpowering structure, the York Minster can leave you spellbound for a long time. I must have spent a few moments just gaping at the gigantic structure. Once inside, I decided to first climb the 275 steps of the York Minster Tower. I have had this strange fascination for steps, which has been made fun of by many-a-friend. But, I guess, stairs to me mean moving ahead in life, reaching the heights. At the same time, you are reminded that you have to climb them down at some point. Notwithstanding my fascination towards steps, the York Minster Tower is a fascinating climb. Anyone familiar with the Tere Ghar Ke Saamne song ‘Dil ka bhanwar’ cannot miss the obvious resemblance to it. Except, the flight of stairs of the York Tower is so narrow that it can accommodate only one person at a time. So, perhaps, Dev Anand and Nutan would have found it tough to sing a romantic song climbing down this tower hand-in-hand.

At the top of the tower, chilly winds cut through my jacket. But the view of the entire town was worth the climb and the chill. After a view from the top of the Minster, I visited the basement where the crypts and the Treasury House give a detailed view of the Minster’s history.

Talking of detailing history, the Castle Museum in York is one of the most excellent museums ever. It gives a chronological detail of the common man of York through the ages. Right in front of the museum is Clifford’s Tower, beautifully perched on a very small hill.

The one thing I had planned to do in York and was looking forward to, was to walk on the City Walls. Crossing the Ouse bridge, I reached the City Walls. Talk about coincidence, as I began to walk on the City Walls, the song on my iPod changed to, ‘Kya mausam hai, ae deewane dil, chal kahin door nikal jaaye...’! I don’t remember a happier moment in the recent past. It was a perfect date with myself.

As Oscar Wilde says, ‘I suppose society is wonderfully delightful. To be in it is merely a bore. But to be out of it is simply a tragedy.’