Where art thou, Shakespeare?
WE couldn’t find Shakespeare’s grave. It still is intensely embarrassing, thinking about my first and only visit to Stratford- uponAvon but it happened: my best friend Lois Kam and I travelled to Stratford- uponAvon way back in 1996 to pay homage to The Bard.
It was barely a few months after we’d graduated from university and we’d saved just about enough to make a trip to England – the exchange rate, believe it or not, was just RM3.70 to one British pound. As students of Literature, we desperately wanted to see the landscapes we’d read so much about, and a visit to Stratford- uponAvon was a must.
We took a bus from London where we were bunking with one of our friends from Malaysia who was a nursing student there. Stratford- upon- Avon was the third stop on the trip – we stopped at Bath and the Stonehenge along the way.
When we arrived, we visited Shakespeare’s birthplace first. We walked in and around his childhood home and were awed when we learnt that the cottage had received visits from William Keats, Charles Dickens, Alfred Lord Tennyso on and Thomas Hardy way before us – all there to pay homagee to The Bard as well. That was pretty cool.
We also visited the Royal Shakespeare Theatre but were very disappointed to learn that the theatre was under renovation so we couldn’t catch a play. It didn’t take long to get over the disappointment, though, as the town was pretty enough to captivate our attention.
We had lunch along the banks of the river Avon and then took a boat ride on the river, marvelling at the very clear waters and reeds and willow trees on the banks. It was idyllic and we were thrilled.
We were also excited to visit the souvenir shop run by the Shakespeare Trust and bought some memorabilia ( Lois bought re- copies of The Bard’s manuscripts and sonnets – Sonnet No. 18, for sure) and then decided to pay homage to him by visiting his grave.
We made it to the church ( which was located on the banks of the river Avon) in good time – a few hours or so before the bus was scheduled to depart. We then spent t at least an hour walk king on the grounds, inten ntly looking out for the grave belonging to Shakespeare.S Surely it had to be a significantly large one, we thought. So we paid special attention to th he larger graves. No S Shakespeare.
We made a second ro ound, making sure to checkh the smaller ones, too. Then we went a third round. Maybe even a fourth, leaving no grave unexamined. Still no Shakespeare. By which time we were exhausted. It was a sweltering summer’s day and we were beat ( and unfit). We decided to take a break from our search ( or rather wave the proverbial white flag) and sat by the river Avon for some respite.
There were other tourists picnicking near us and we told a couple of them about our misadventure. It was then that we realised our mistake: they told us that the grave was inside the church, not outside it.
Boy, did we feel like dunces. We could have gone back for a quick peek but we were just too tired. And embarrassed. On the plus side, we did see some interesting gravestones. And some nice inscriptions, too.
It was our very own tragicomedy!