One of the nice things about being on a program with a ton of people - you get mass tickets that get you in everywhere. (Of course, it helps when you - "you" here meaning "Liz" - stick around to actually GET said ticket, instead of having to hunt down Dr. Fincham and explain that you thought you got it when you didn't...but enough of that.) It also helps to hang out all day with awesome people who will help you explain at the sites/point out Dr. Fincham so you can track him down.
But basically, we got into all the Shakespeare sites free. We saw the birthplace:
Thomas Nash's house (he married Shakespeare's granddaughter Elizabeth):
the exhibited new portrait (I'm skeptical of any "new Shakespeare portrait," but it was neat to see it), and John Hall's house (he married Shakespeare's daughter Susanna). We didn't, alas, make it to New Place (Shakespeare's expensive, fancy, I'm-the-richest-guy-in-Stratford house). Because we went up the road to Holy Trinity instead.
My opinion may be suspect, since I admit to being a Shakespeare tourist, and since I've now gone to Stratford three times in the company of people I really enjoy spending time with. So while I grant that the town tends very much toward Bard deification and caters to the basest of touristic impulses, I don't mind, because that's exactly what I do. Yes, it would be completely inconsequential if not for the fact that the greatest writer in the English language was born there; yes, even with that, it doesn't matter much, and doesn't quite seem to know what to do with Will. But I don't mind.
Maybe that's a character flaw. Maybe it's a flaw in perception. I don't know.
What I do know is that absolutely none of it mattered at all when I walked down the church's aisle to the altar and saw Shakespeare's grave.
As hideously cheesy as that sounds, it's true.
I had to kneel down to take a picture. And I don't honestly know which came first - the desire to take a picture, or the desire to drop to my knees. I couldn't have stayed there forever, like I could have with The Beloved or Ophelia. It's not the same kind of thing. Being there, kneeling in front of the grave - I couldn't be there without wishing he was there too. I wished I could have talked to him; I wished I could have turned around and seen him.
But he's not like that. He's too secretive. He picks and chooses, and there's nothing you can get from him that he doesn't want to give.
So in the end, I took that, and I was - am - grateful.
I lit a candle, afterwards. They put the candles off in a side nook - I almost missed it. But no one else was there, and that was nice. I picked a candle and lit it, and I never know what to say, or think, or pray when I light candles in churches, but this time I didn't even have to think about it.
Hi. I made it. Thank you.
I nearly cried. I did cry, just now, thinking about it again.
***
Then we went to dinner. Not at the Dirty Duck (the favorite haunt of the RSC actors post-show) - having eaten there twice before, I was satisfied, and the entire group was going to be there, and we wanted to do our own thing. So we trolled Stratford looking for another place, and wound up eating at Garrick's, the oldest inn in Stratford (named after David Garrick, possibly THE great Shakespearean actor, responsible for the Shakespearean renaissance in the 1700s). I got rather tipsy, mostly due to the ENORMOUS whiskey shots we ordered after our meal. To clarify - three of us (me, Kate, and Anastasia) ordered shots, one each. THEY served them in tumblers. We were rather daunted, but we finished every one of them!
I was still a bit tipsy when the play started. But do not underestimate the combination of willpower and a fantastic show - I was cold sober within ten minutes of the start. And it was indeed a fantastic show. Hilarious and smart, thoughtful and zany, adorable and serious. Rosalind was perfect - always endearing and sincere and clever, and never less than she should be. And I may have to stop ragging on Orlando - he was fantastic in this production, very much in love without surrendering either his dignity or the dignity of his love. Which made me take him much more seriously than I ever had before, and it was nice to have Rosalind matched with someone who deserved her.
Oh - and I picked up a few fun presents at the RSC gift shop. Not telling, though - you'll have to wait until I get back to see them! (Which is in about a week and a half!)
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