Take a Walk: Adventure in the Cotswolds

Need to restore your faith in humanity? Walk the Cotswolds Way. Not only will you gain a new appreciation for nature, yourself, and your travel companions, but it will help to reassure that at the core of it all, people are kindhearted and helpful by nature.

I woke up a few weeks ago with a bizarre desire to walk through the English countryside to Bath. Explaining this objective to people elicited a range of responses, mostly declarations of my insanity. There were two daring souls, however, who were not only willing, but excited by the notion of a walking adventure: Miriam and Sarah.

OXFORD TO BROADWAY

We started at the college equivalent to the crack of dawn (i.e. 10 a.m.) and met up in the Gloucester Green in Oxford for a hearty breakfast at Combibos. After a sufficient caff up, we headed to the train station and caught a 1 p.m. train to Moreton-in-Marsh (£6.40). We wandered through the village, missed a bus, and ended up taking a taxi to our real starting point: Broadway. The Cotswolds Way is a 104-mile route across Southwest England that typically takes up to eight days to complete, so with only a four day weekend, we had to cut a few corners by rocking modern transport. Don’t hold it against us.

You’ll soon learn how to spot footpath signs when you venture through the Cotswolds; cue the hallelujah choir and light from above when you see those wooden sticks point you in the right direction. Maps can only tell you so much when you’re wandering through a sheep laden field sans compass.

BROADWAY TO CHELTENHAM

Our first trail was not an easy introduction to the whole walking thing—and when I say walking, it implies straight lines and concrete ground, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t want to say it was hiking either, because that suggests equipment and being semi-professional. No, this was a trek. And it all started with the second steepest “hill” in all the Cotswolds.

Can’t say the view was completely worth the struggle up the hill, but it was definitely magnificent. A few hours later, after a sufficient amount of panting, gasping, and swearing, we made our way to Cheltenham. As soon as we made it to the city centre, we found a bookstore and popped in to get some phone numbers to local hostels and hotels. We got some great advice from the clerk, who gave us directions to the YMCA. They had vacancy and for £17.50 each we secured a room to ourselves.

On our way to dinner, we noticed the majority of the older Cheltenham residents hurrying to the Town Hall. I stand by a theory I deduced while there— that they were escaping the teens of Cheltenham who roam the streets come nightfall. Seriously… the kids were taking over the streets of this city. Besides the fact Cheltenham lacked any charm whatsoever, I’d never want to spend more than a night there for the simple reason the underage population is vast, loud, and stupidly drunk.

CHELTENHAM TO PAINSWICK

In the a.m. we sought out the bus station and asked one of the nicest bus drivers I’ve ever encountered how to get to Birdlip, a small town that was site to our starting point for the day’s walk. He dropped us off within three miles of Birdlip and directed us where to walk from there. Clinging to the shoulder, we walked along the curvaceous roads that I had once been worried to drive on, let along walk along.

We passed through a golf course, got the evil stare down from annoyed golfers in funny pants, and escaped over a fence. Once we passed the Air Balloon Inn, a landmark on The Cotswolds Way, we were finally on the correct route. Climbed a giant hill to see a wonderful view of Gloucester and then the trail took us through beech woods to Cooper’s Hill. We followed woodland tracks and eventually made it to another golf course, signaling our proximity to Painswick. We descended into the village and found St. Annes B&B, where we had a reservation, straight away.

We were greeted by Iris McCormick and had a beyond lovely stay at this organic bed and breakfast. We first enjoyed a cup of tea and an amazingly sweet creation in the form of a biscuity-cake, had a shower, and then fought utter fatigue and went into town for a meal at The Royal Oak Inn. Plates cost upwards of £10 and if you catch them on fish night, you’ll be in for a treat.

Painswick is considered one of the most beautiful villages in the Cotswolds and it lived up to the title. In the morning we had a great breakfast, cooked to perfection by Iris and family, and then wandered around the city to the sound of church bells.

PAINSWICK TO BATH

A three-mile walk landed us in Stroud, where we found a market in full swing. We retired for the afternoon at a local pub to appease Sarah’s love of Ireland and rugby (Ireland vs. Wales). The weather turned on us Saturday and changed from blaring sun to drizzling rain, so we decided on a bus to Bath. For £5.00 we hopped on a terrifyingly old 10-seater that screamed up every hill and shook around every corner.

The riskiest bit of our trip wasn’t going into the woods without a compass or a map, but instead entering Bath on a Saturday night without hotel reservations. When we were coming into the city I noticed The Belvedere out the rain soaked window, so we gave them a call and they magically had a family room available for £95. Jumping on that opportunity, we took a taxi there and settled into a grand ensuite room on the top floor. Score one for playing it by ear!

A long list of rave reviews helped us decide on The Eastern Eye for dinner and so we made a reservation. The huge Georgian style room was packed to the max with chattering people diving into Indian food like their lives depended on it. When you walk into this place, ignore the crowd of people and just look up… the ceilings are amazing. After taking in your surroundings, watch out for scurrying waiters with rolling decks of plates passing by. The wait was long, the food a bit overrated, but the experience overall was an enjoyable one.

Bath itself is an odd tourist trap—you may feel like you’re stuck in an even cornier version of Disneyland when you check out the local landmarks. We got a joint student ticket for £14 for the baths and the Fashion Museum. The Fashion Museum is brilliant in theory, but fell short of my expectations. Interesting costumes and fashion, but you’d think the builder and organizer would have been inspired by the design surrounding them when constructing the museum. It was just a plain experience, with the bookstore being the most colorful part. And don’t get too psyched for the punk rock display, it’s about 20 framed black and whites that I could have used Google Images to see.

The Roman Baths were laughably rudimentary, with distracting children audio tour signs covering every inch of the building. They seemed to have ruined the experience with construction around all the important parts, along with unappealing tarp with fake columns painted adorning no-go areas. Tourists were moving slower than slugs and wouldn’t hear you try to pass by above the roar of their audio tours. So don’t believe the brochure when it tells you it’s “the best 90 minutes…spent in Europe.” A 90 minute nap would beat that. But you can’t go to Bath without seeing its namesake landmark, so relax by the pool of water and watch the steam rise.

Overall I got a good vibe from the city of Bath, with its balanced mix of charm and practicality. As a tourist, you could easily do it justice in a day, but spending a few days there exploring the city life is certainly feasible.

BATH TO OXFORD

Calling it a day around 2, we bought £13 train tickets home to Oxford. A four-day walking adventure may have ended on a train, but we certainly got our trek on in between. The cheese will ooze from this next sentiment, but I honestly learned a lot about myself during this random experience—a few days walking in the woods with a couple of friends has the tendency to do that to a person.

Can’t say I’d rock the whole walking tour again, but it feels like a major accomplishment over 30 trekked miles later. I recommend this jaunt for those who need a breath of fresh air and a reassessment of mankind, because we met the most helpful, kind souls while on this trip. Goes to show that in the end, it’s the journey, not the destination, that matters*.

*I apologize for the cliché journey/destination combo line at the end, but it was just irresistible.

A Long Way for a Sarnie: A Sunday Drive to Gloucestershire

Taking random road trips are becoming our specialty here in Oxford. Sunday is the perfect day to jump in the car and roll out to unknown parts of England. Our lovely driver this weekend, Rhianna, wanted Miriam, Viki, and I to see the beauties of Gloucestershire, a nearby county in South West England.

Driving through the winding roads and seeing the brilliant countryside brought back memories of growing up upstate. Long rock walls lined the main motorways and rolling hills were endless. We saw a sign for a Roman Villa and decided to check it out; apparently there are whole tours in the UK based around the exploration of these villas. Of course, being poor grad students, we didn’t quite get into the villas, as much as a wander around the giftshop. A £5.50 admission fee suppressed any desire for historical education.

We tumbled through the tight road back to the main route, not without a few near-heart attacks rounding the blind corners. I don’t know how these Brits drive; first off, with the whole other side of the road situation, and then with the obvious one-way streets being used as if they were four-lane highways. Anyone who can navigate these paths in a vehicle gets major props, though I have a feeling there might be an upcoming entry about how I learned to drive in England… so stay tuned.

Up the road, we decided to pull off to a random village and grab a pint and a sandwich. The town of choice was Newnham on Severn, about ten miles outside of Gloucester proper. Surrounded by the Royal Forest of Dean, this place was your typical village, with plenty of pubs and even more oldsters.

We walked into a pub with one of the best selections of cider in the country, only to remember it was Mother’s Day in Great Britain (shout out to the J-Money). It was packed, so we hiked up the hill to see some other options. We were attracted/intrigued by a bright blue building, which we came to discover was the friendliest pub in all the land. Seriously…

The Ship Inn was beyond fantastic, we chatted with who I presume were the owners about grabbing a bite, but they said they were done serving food. The woman called up the street to a rival pub to see if they were still dealing out a bite, but alas, they weren’t. In the meantime, the other owner must have cut a deal with the kitchen, and he offered us a last-minute roast dinner. Yet again, our poor student wallets wouldn’t allow for a £12 lunch, so as we were about to leave, he came back with a negotiated offer: a beef or pork sandwich, with a salad, for a fiver. Sold.

It was a supreme sarnie and with a pint of Guinness to wash it down, lunch was a memorable one. Here’s a major PS about some dramz going down at The Ship Inn: the town council is making them paint over their distinct blue with a far more dull white or an even duller cream, so it will match up with the other boring buildings around the centre. Can’t say the blue color was an extremely attractive one, but it certainly caught our eye and is the primary reason we walked into this little gem of a pub. So if you’re ever in Newnham, drop by what will inevitably be a white building named The Ship Inn for a quality experience. It will make you love England, I swear to it.

Normal for Norfolk: The East Anglia Expedition

When I told some Brits I was headed to Norfolk for the weekend, most responded with a quizzical “why?”

It was a legitimate question; as an American living in England, there are countless places to visit while on this little island. So why had I opted for three days in East Anglia? Easy… I was invited.

It’s fairly obvious by now, I enjoy a travel adventure. So when my friend Viki invited a few of us to her hometown of Norwich, the excitement overflowed. Not only did it lay way for more exploration, but also the prospect of being in a house with a home-cooked meal appealed more than you can imagine.

Some four hours on what Viki deemed to be the bus of doom, we arrived in Cambridge unscathed. Another jaunt on a bus and then a pick up from her family, we were nearing Norwich (which for ages I thought was spelled Norridge. It’s all in the pronunciation, friends).

Now forget everything you’ve heard about Norwich. That includes any inbreeding jokes or the Wikipedia description of it being: “remote, unsophisticated, gauche, and out-of-step with national trends.” From what I could gather at my weekend visit, it’s actually a charming, practical city.

It’s one of the top places to shop in Great Britain (oy vey, I could feel the headache approaching), it has 30 medieval parish churches built of flint, and was home to the fictitious broadcaster Alan Partridge.

On day one we were greeted by the Mortimer family… possibly the friendliest of Norfolk folk you’ll ever meet. We stayed in with a meal and a movie, all in preparation for the next day’s spree.

The excellence in shopping was not exaggerated, with a variety of modern day shops lining the cobblestone streets. It felt downright American being among so many malls, each equipped with the compulsory food courts and clothing outlets.

Around noon we swapped consumerism for culture and kicked it old school with a visit to the cathedral. Built in 1096, the upkeep of this site tops off at £3,700 per day. Yikes. Despite that sum, we skipped the donation and wandered around the inside, along with the outside labyrinth (apparently yet another site used in Harry Potter. Is there any part of this country untouched by that twirpy wizard?)

It seems like the Norwich nightlife has plenty of possibilities. That night we rocked it out at a local bar for an engagement party: food, drinks, and dancing made the perfect trifecta for the evening. If you’re in the area, park it at one of the local garages and find the club that suits you best.

The next day we headed out to Great Yarmouth for a typical seaside town experience. A walk along the water, an ice cream cone, and a meal of fish and chips at Harry Ramsden’s made it the kind of outing children’s poems are written about.

All in all, the weekend excursion to East Anglia was one of my favorite weekends thus far in England, and I got to spend it with the best of friends. Many thanks to Viki & family for the hospitality and the invite.

Bring a Coat: Amsterdam

Amsterdam wasn’t exactly a tropical destination to escape the gray of an English mid-December. But the one advantage of negative temperatures is that flights are cheap to the ‘dam, so that’s where a group of my friends jetted off to for an end of term celebration.

We departed in style with British Airways (£44 one way from Gatwick) and slummed it on Easy Jet (£30) on the way back. When we landed at Schipol Airport about an hour later, we were greeted by booming drums and an assembly of clowns carrying mops and brooms. That’s the first indication that Amsterdam is different…

From what we gathered by the signs, it looked like the cleaning staff was on strike at the airport. Bizarre way to express your dissenting views against administration. We managed to squeeze our way through the crowds and buy train tickets to the city centre, about 30 minutes on extremely clean trains.

Once you arrive at the Amsterdam Central Station, by all means vacate the vicinity. Even if that means hopping on a tram without pay, escape the creepiness that is the train station and all the potential gypsy thieves that go with it. We might have been gypped on our tram tickets, paying €20 for four days, but we bought them in the most convenient location (a coffee place in the station) so took it and left asap. We still have leftovers, so toss me a holler if anyone wants to buy it off me.

If you can decipher the long Dutch names of tram stops, you’ll find it’s one of the easiest non-English transportation systems in Europe. It’s straight forward and meticulously on time, however we did run into several mean tram operators, who liked shutting doors on us and shooting scowls our way.

After much research beforehand, we selected the Stayokay Amsterdam Zeeburg Hostel (booked on HiHostels). This Stayokay ranks as my second favorite hostel ever, only coming in one behind the Globetrotter in Edinburgh. A converted school, the Zeeburg is gigantore, clean, and surprisingly, empty. But the best part about the Zeeburg is the price: £7 a night. Admittedly, we did stay there in the depths of Dutch winter, so prices might shoot up when temperatures go higher than freaking freezing (the exact temperature of Amsterdam in December).

It’s pretty easy to find dens of dubious activity in Amsterdam, with drugs and prostitution being legal and encouraged. But A-dam is also full of cultural hotspots, with the Van Gogh Museum (one of my favorite art museums), the Anne Frank House, and the Rijksmuseum of Art and History.

There are plenty of restaurants to choose from around the Rembrandtplein stop, shopping abounds near Dam Square, and some nice photo ops are found near Waterlooplein. Just listening to the names of tram stops is entertaining enough for me.

Checking out the flowermarket is nice, but overrated in the guide books. Avoid the Sex Museum, it’s a complete rip off and just weird, as you can imagine. And be sure to hold onto your purse/wallet while walking through the Red Light District (also, refrain from taking pictures, unless you want a pimp to knock your knees out).

As for food, there’s a diverse mix in Holland. Brazilian restaurants seem to be everywhere and Indonesian cuisine is popular, so try to plan a Ris Tafel meal (Rice Table). They’ll cover the table in delicious looking food for a set price, so be sure to research your restaurant of choice—Ris Tafel can range from €8 to beyond €100 each. Buy as many stroopwafel as you can carry, have a Heineken for good measure, and grab up some fried dough goodness at a stand.

If you’re inclined to do a day trip outside of the city, let me dissuade you from hopping an hour train to The Hague. It’s a government town and I seemed to get the stare down from the occupants while walking the dark streets. I might be selling it short, being my jaunt there lasted about an hour in total thanks to some miscommunication (shout out to Sarah Kramer), but seriously… stay in Amsterdam. Or find a small town to visit if you want to experience Dutch life outside A-dam.

My only recommendation is to explore this city in warmer temperatures, but when you have a group of good friends by your side, the city seems warm enough. Thanks to Miriam, Caitlyn, Viki, Rhianna, Sarah, Lauren, Sarah, and Zack... who all know how to rock it, wherever they go!

Beer, Bretzels, and a Buchmesse: 48 Hours in Frankfurt

It’s mid-October in Germany and I’m surrounded by twentysomethings in a huge convention hall.

No…it’s not Oktoberfest, but instead, the Frankfurt Book Fair.

A group from my publishing postgrad course jet-setted to Deutschland for the weekend to experience some beer, bretzels, and a buchmesse at the biggest trade fair for books in the world.

We set off early Thursday morning via coach from the Brookes campus to Heathrow. Can’t say the five a.m. wake up call was pleasant, but excitement beat out sleepiness as I anticipated my first jaunt to Germany. We had to put the exhilaration on hold for a few hours though, as our flight was delayed thanks to London fog.

Once British Airways got us safely to Frankfurt, we hopped on a train to the city centre. Group rates will get you a discounted price, so if you can gather five people together, you can roll into town for a few euros each.

The Frankfurt Hostel, merely steps away from the Hauptbahnhof (train station), was on the sleezier side of things. Stuck in the middle of what we deemed to be the red light district, the only thing the hostel had going for it was its convenient location. Beyond that, it was hard not to notice the stained sheets and equally stained carpet.

Bed rates range from 18 to 22 euros, with private rooms going for anything between 50 and 88 euros. Shoot for the private ensuite set up if you choose to stay there. Avoid their elevator of death.

A 15-minute walk landed us in the Römer square, a fantastic plaza dotted with shops and restaurants. All forty of us grabbed a drink and I had my first official German pint of apfelwein, an apple cider Frankfurt is known for. We then wandered over to the Paulaner Munchen restaurant for a traditional meal. From schnitzel to strudel, the brewery popped out a fantastic dinner. The service was unimpressive, but waiting on forty rambunctious students would prove challenging for even the best of servers, so this is me giving them slack. It seems to be a chain, so check it out if you come across it.

Friday was devoted entirely to the book fair, a massive collection of publishers from around the world. The exhibition hall itself was impressive, as it seemed bigger than most airports and ran like a city inside. We poured over the stands upon stands of publishers marketing their latest launches and their old faithfuls. We gained insight to the industry and got a taste of business networking, all under one massive roof.

We rocked the fair from 9 to 5, so a quick nap before hitting the German party scene was necessary. A few of us headed out around 7 for a quick bite at a small Italian restaurant and enjoyed some Weizen beers, because what’s Germany without a few pints? Meeting up with the rest of the group, we dominated a local pub off the main square and then headed to a club.

The prices seemed high in Frankfurt, as the club entrance fee was 10 euros, though it got negotiated down to six. Once inside, the drink prices were exorbitant—although as an American in Europe, the exchange rate makes every price exorbitant. Our group danced to electronica until 3 a.m., hopefully having worked off a few calories from the dense German food.

Saturday was spent in Mainz, a smaller city on the west bank of the Rhine. A train from Frankfurt will cost you about six euros return. Good luck navigating the electronic ticket stand, it was all in German.

We caught the tail-end of a lovely morning market in Mainz, full of fresh veg, fruit, and flowers. The Gutenberg Museum was the main goal of the day-trip, which only cost 3 euro as a student. The museum is home to a Gutenberg Bible and many printing presses, though the museum didn’t seem to cater to foreigners. It was hard to find any English translations to the plaques and the only information sheet cost money.

Lunch consisted of a bretzel and wine as a group of us sat in the main plaza watching the world go by. The sun was blaring and the city was bustling, couldn’t have asked for a better day. We made our way back to the airport after 4 p.m. and luckily didn’t have to suffer through another delay. Although Frankfurt was beyond great fun, Heathrow was a welcome sight…And so was my bed when I finally made it back to my dorm, my home sweet home away from home.

Pick up a few German words/phrases before you head to das land der dichter und denker (the land of thinkers and poets). Go HERE for some tips.