It’s been a few months since our “big trip” of 2026 to England and Scotland, which for the most part translates to London and Edinburgh. Our one more creative stop along the way was a few days in Glastonbury, a destination important to my wife, and given that anything offering a unique landing spot I wouldn’t have considered on my own has immense appeal.

This was not about the music festival at all. The idea of giant crowds of inebriated people and even worse, influencers, has little appeal to me in my 40s and honestly isn’t something I would have enjoyed in my 20s either. My prissiest beliefs are centered around indoor plumbing and getting as good a night’s sleep as possible. Glastonbury is cool on paper but not for me.

No, our trip was focused on the spiritual side of Glastonbury and its legends I knew little about. I knew of the proximity to Stonehenge, a destination I was excited to take our kids to, albeit the scope of what they were taking in was lost on them.

I was ignorant to things like their ark of the covenant legend, their place in Arthurian lore, and things like ley lines and earth chakra points may induce uncontrollable eye rolls that aren’t particularly well received by my partner. I’ve always held the belief that the boring couples are completely into the same stuff. She’s my new age hippy and I’m her existential punk. She indulged London’s graffiti tunnel for me; I could certainly take in the alleged burial site of King Arthur for her.

This isn’t about beliefs. I’ve learned long ago that respecting beliefs up until the point those beliefs infringe on human rights is where I’ll land on belief structures. Again, for the sake of this post not branching out into several different directions, I spare you my collage of cobbled together beliefs borrowed from Buddhism, science fiction, and opium fueled European philosophers.

No, this is about the experience of Glastonbury, which was to say worth our family’s time.

Downtown Glastonbury is as many would expect, a collection of crystal, witchcraft, and new age book shops lining their main thoroughfare. Admittedly, I thought the music festival would have had a greater influence on the town but quickly learned of the local resentment towards it. No, Glastonbury was all in the spiritual side of things, like a less dark version of Salem, Massachusetts, or more likely what I assume Sedona, Arizona is like. While having absolutely no interest in buying any of this stuff, I found the notion of stores dedicated to healing elixirs, and that you could price compare wands at multiple shops an interesting luxury for those so inclined to shop for one.

Most of the “spiritual” shop owners came across as the most uptight individuals in this community. In fact, Glastonbury in general didn’t have the relaxed nature I would have associated with hippies, counterculture, and embracing nature. There was a rigid Britishness to the entire town, and it seems that everyone’s beliefs were at odds with the beliefs of the other communities within the town. The Druids didn’t like the Satanists, the potheads hate the drunks, the hippies think the spiritual tourists are performative. The town was less a community and more of an important pilgrimage for multiple tribes and those who took up residence there lived in an uncomfortable piece. Save for the pub owners, who seemed to be loved by everyone and passed no judgement on anyone else.

I found this particularly interesting in our tour guide that took us to Stonehenge and Avebury.

On the surface, a hippy. A channeler. Someone who appeared open to new ideas and accepting what the world brought him. Throughout the day, capitalist and influencer aspirations became more apparent. He was an adopter of AI, on the grumpier side of things, and viewed outlandish beliefs that he didn’t hold in the same fashion that I viewed most of the new aged potpourri I was encountering. People have layers and he had his. I remain confused about his objection the fifteen minute cities, when Glastonbury is very much one, but I digress.

For the most part, Glastonbury represented a visit to place where a lot of people with fringe ideas had transplanted themselves to figure it out. It doesn’t seem like any had other than maybe our cab driver, who moved here for the slower country life and was thrilled at the volume of new experiences that would be thrown at him every day.

I’ll admit what stands out to me is the number of random people you will see wandering the streets in cloaks, and adorning pentagrams. If you are a people watcher, Glastonbury is the destination for you.

From a traditional vacation perspective, the standout destination for me was the George & Pilgrims tavern. The kind of ancient pub that North American tourists crave when they head overseas. Suit of armour? Check. Cider on tap? You betcha. Throw in the Arthurian legends and witchcraft lore on the walls around the pub and it was an absolute highlight before learning about the upstairs hallway.

A room where allegedly Henry the VIII viewed the burning of the Glastonbury Abbey was not something we expected to find. Again, not the level of history that we’re used to in Canada.

I imagine this won’t be my last spiritual vacation destination, and while the earth’s chakra didn’t awaken anything in me, getting out of London and immersing ourselves in weird England for a few days was something I’d recommend.