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One of the most famous historical attractions, here in England, happens to be right down here in the south-east. That is of course Stonehenge, the millenia-old mysterious standing-stones, that lie in the middle of the bleak high plains near Salisbury. Since it was a drizzly Sunday over in Bath (not that it drizzles exclusively on Sundays, naturally) — and since they do tours from Bath to Stonehenge daily, for quite a reasonable price — I decided to hop on a tour bus, and to see this important monument. What can I say: they're very old, and they're very mystifying; but really, they're just rocks.

This afternoon, Christina and I were just about to make our way back from Bristol to Bath, when we bumped into a super-friendly, super-random local. Next thing we know, we're at the bar of the "White Lion" pub in downtown Bristol, guzzling some fine dark local ale, and getting to know the crazy but colourful characters of this city. It wasn't planned; but once done, it sure as hell wasn't regretted.

I haven't bought any novels for a long time: so far on my trip, I've been subsisting on whatever paperbacks I can scrounge up at hostel book exchanges. This is all well and good, but the quality at those exchanges is generally somewhat lacking. I walked past a second-hand fair in Bristol this afternoon, and I couldn't resist buying a few quality novels. Grabbed myself "The Big Mango", by Norman Kelley; and "Blast from the Past", by Ben Elton. Seeing as I won't be in England again for a while, I managed to justify this little luxury to myself.

I hopped over to Bristol this afternoon with Christina; and while we were walking near the river, we saw a bunch of birds. Christina insisted they were swans. I said they were too ugly and weird to be swans, they must be geese. A local, when asked, assured us that they were indeed swans — "Bristol swans". I lost £5. What do you think? Geese or swans? If they really are swans, then they're the least graceful type of bloody swan I've ever seen — they must be outcast by the rest of their swan brethren the world over.

For lack of much else to do, this morning Christina and I went on a walking tour of Bath, which is held for free every morning by the Bath historical society. We survived about half of the 2-hour tour; after that, it was so cold and so boring that we couldn't take any more. We saw the Roman baths (the outside, at least), some of Bath's old houses, and other important architectural landmarks. We also heard a bit about Bath's history as a holiday spot for London's high society, and as a favourite town for high-roller gambling and other aristocratic pastimes. No idea what the tour contained after that, because we bailed out on it.

Christina's at the tail end of a 3-month trip around Europe, where (among other things) she's gone with several of her girlfriends on a road trip through the south-east (including the former Yugoslav Republic — brave girls!). She's in Bath for a few days (at St. Christopher's), before continuing on to Cornwall and south-west England. She's from the Bay Area in California — even better, she's a Berkeley girl.

Ayuko is a lovely Japanese girl, who's studying to be an English teacher over in Birmingham. She came here to Bath for a weekend holiday, and she's staying at St. Christopher's along with the rest of us. Her English is pretty good, but she'll have to keep working on it before she can start teaching it. She enjoys the odd cocktail or two, and she carries origami paper with her wherever she goes — in case she needs to make anyone an emergency Japanese souvenir.

This unique couple are staying with me at St. Christopher's, here in Bath. The guy is from Harvey Bay in Queensland, and he's been travellng and working for about 2 years straight; and (in true Aussie backpacker style) he has no idea when he's going home (if ever). The girl's from somewhere in Scotland, and nobody can understand a bloody word she says — lucky I'm not going to Scotland!

One of the things I've been looking forward to doing, here in England, is the famous Bath-to-Bristol bike ride. Well... maybe it's not that famous — several of my English mates from South America, including Oly (who lived and studied in Bristol for several years), recommended it to me (so that makes it famous enough for me). Anyway, today I gave the ride a try, and I'd be lying if I didn't say it was a blast. Lovely route, following an abandoned railway track and a peaceful countryside valley; well-done track, wide and sealed almost the whole way; and reasonable weather for it as well. I don't think too many tourists are aware of the ride, but whoever stops by here and doesn't do it is missing out.

I'm making no secret about it: I didn't come to England to see the Queen, I didn't come to watch the theatre, and I certainly didn't come to enjoy the weather. I came for the curry! Found an excellent Indian take-away joint, a fair way down the main street of Bath, that does some Mutton Vindaloo to die for. England, thankyou for imposing your unfair colonial rule on India all those years ago: because India is now getting its revenge, by invading England back; and they're bringing their curry with them. Best dinner I've had in months.