BATH, CINQUE TERRE AND SARDINIA DAY 3 – SPEEDHENGE

One last very civilized breakfast at The Bird and we’re on our way.  Once we’re out of Bath proper, it’s another beautiful drive through the British countryside on our way to Stonehenge, one of the 10 ancient wonders of the world.  Normally, we would leave several hours to see such a magnificent sight, to learn about its history and soak in all we can about this fascinating achievement that I have dreamt of seeing my entire life.  But not today folks.

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We’re this close, so there’s no way we’re not going to see it.  After all, who knows if we will ever be in the area again?  But we have an early afternoon flight out of Gatwick, which is 2 hours away.  So here’s the Speedhenge plan.  Mandy books the first timed tickets when the gate opens at 9:30.  We’ll get there early so we’re literally first through the gate and onto the first shuttle from the gate to the Stones.  That’ll give us about 30 minutes to hang out at the main event itself and hop on the shuttle back.

Plan goes off without a hitch and here we are, way ahead of the crowds, with only a few other earlybirds.  Stonehenge, built in we-didn’t-have-time-to-find-out-when by we-don’t-know-who stands some-number-of-feet high and, despite our complete lack of backstory, is still freaking amazing.  We have fun taking pictures and marveling at the engineering feat and it’s durability.

Back on the road and we make the airport without too much stress.  Security, however is another issue.  We’re traveling with only roll-aboard bags, and, unbeknownst to us, absolutely all liquid must come out to go through the screening machines, something we’ve never encountered in any country before.  Wholly unprepared, we need to rip open our cases and root through to find everything like complete amateurs.  Ugg. 

Once you’re in Europe, flights are simple and cheap.  The flight from London to Pisa, with front seats and bags, was about $150 total for both of us.  The easyJet flight goes smoothly and it seems our new strategy of “get to Europe as cheaply as possible in business class then launch from there” is paying off.  We land in Pisa and walk 500m to the car rental counter where we pick up our Fiat Panda, the ubiquitous, utilitarian clown car of Europe and we’re on our way to LaSpezia.  Normally, we would just train from here, but because of some odd timing, we’re going to Leave the Panda in the parking lot under the train station for a few days.  Hand gesturing and pseudo-Italianing, we navigate the rail station counter and hop the train for the 12 minute ride to Riomaggiore, the southernmost village of the Cinque Terre (“5 Lands”) and our home base for the next 3-1/2 days.  Stefano, the affable Airbnb host greets us warmly as we step off the train and walks us a block to our apartment, a two bedroom, two bath flat on the top floor of a 6 story, 20 unit building.  Stephano proudly shows us about the place and has generously stocked it with everything we need for breakfast for the entire stay, plus enough beer, wine, champaign and coffee for week.   

We say our goodbyes and head into RIO-ma-joor-ah Centro for some dinner.  We pick Il Grottino because it’s adorable, a tiny space with a few tables out front, and has a nice local menu.  Anchovies are a local staple, and we dive right in with Mandy bravely ordering the fried version as an appy.  Unlike what we’re used to in the States, these are mild and delicious and go especially well with the carafe of the minerally local house white wine.  Pesto is another regional favorite, and our next course, tossed with some fresh pasta, EVOO and pinoli.  The main event is the grilled mixed fish platter with seabass, langostino, cuddlefish, octopus and whatever else was in the net today.  It’s been a long day, but we stretch our legs a bit with a walk past the marina on our way to dreamland.

 

BATH, CINQUE TERRE & SARDINIA DAY 2 - CHEDDAR, MULTIPLE WAYS

 

We wake early and are treated to a nice breakfast in Plate, the funky café in the Bird Hotel.  This morning we’re setting off to Cheddar Gorge, one of the most scenic drives in England.  It’s about 45 minutes to get there, and one of the main reasons we stayed in Bath… I wanted to take Mandy driving in the British countryside.  It’s pretty much as romantic as we hoped, rolling fields of green dotted with sheep and oddly furry cattle, with great splashes of bright yellow canola fields, with the terribly quaint village thrown in every 10 minutes or so for good measure.  It all so… English. 

We get to Cheddar Gorge itself and the landscape changes dramatically.  Craggy mountains crisscrossed with hiking trails and speckled with cave openings are inhabited by herds of compact mountain goats (or is it flocks? or packs?) who are unfazed by our presence.  The road is crazy fun (for me at least), 22 steep, tight switchbacks over just few miles.  We stop for pictures along the way, then head into the town of Cheddar.  Despite my belief that cheddar cheese is an American creation, it actually was created, shockingly, here in Cheddar.  That also goes a long way into explaining the excellent piece at dinner last night.  We stop in the Original Cheddar Cheese Company (not to be confused with the Cheddar Gorge Cheese Company just up the block), and start chatting with the chap at the counter.  He recommends the cave aged cheddar by handing us a big chunky sample, and he’s right.  Tangy, with a bit of crystals and a rich finish, sharp without being sour, best we have ever tasted, and a bargain at just 6 pounds for a big wedge.  Sorry Vermont.  And Wisconsin. 

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Back on the road we wind the other way through the gorge, then follow the route to Ashwick, the roads getting progressively smaller, rougher and narrower by the mile.  I tell ya, Ashwick is small… (crowd chears “how small is it?) It’s so small that they had to widen the street to paint a center stripe down it!  And if the village is tiny, the paths are teenier,  less then a Vauxhall wide in some points, although we prevailed in passing, mostly cause this is a rental car and the stereo is so good we barely heard the branches scratching down both sides.  When we see a very random but very scenic bench, at a very random but very scenic crossroads, Mandy very randomly decides that is where the aforementioned cheddar wedge shall be very randomly and very scenically opened.  Damn shame this country doesn’t make its own wine.

Back in Bath we stop to see The Circus, a large circular park lined with equally circular townhouses.  From there, it’s just a few blocks to Royal Crescent, a Palladian style semi-circular row of 30 townhouses from the late 1700s on a high bluff overlooking the park in the foreground and the rest of Bath in the background, that are even more upscale then The Circus. 

We drop the car at the hotel and head to The Scallop Shell for lunch.  We’re going to see it the internet is right and this is the home to the best Fish and Chips in Bath.  It’s a no frills, off the beaten path kinda place, whose owner decided to put all of his investment right there on your plate.  I feel bad not ordering a big hunk of the fresh Monkfish, or sampling the mussels, but we’re on a mission.   We do start with a few of the Orkney Isle Scallops, very well chosen and executed, served seared in their shell with a dram of pea pesto and a few micro pea greens.  While we wait between courses two nice mugs of Yorkshire tea are served, you know, because we’re in England.  The main event is delivered and includes caught-today north Atlantic cod which is hand battered to order, hot and salty and chunky chips, traditional English mushy peas and an herbed tarter sauce.  Very, very nice.  We (and when I say we, I mostly mean me, mostly) can’t resist an order of Sticky Toffee Pudding, a dense, spongy, gingerbready cake island in a sea of caramel toffee topped with a cloud of vanilla ice cream and a salty tropical breeze of cinnamon and cloves (yea, I got overly excited when it came and took a big spoonful before Mandy could take a photo, so you’re just gonna have to make due with my word picture…)

After lunch we walk to Royal Victoria Park and check out the Botanical Garden (isn’t every garden “botanical”?) then continue on to the Thermae Spa.  The idea of the Thermae Spa is a modern take on the ancient Roman Baths just a few blocks away.  There are two pools, one on the rooftop and one on the ground level, both fed by the same hot springs that bathed the Romans back in the day, plus a spa level with various hot and cold therapy rooms and saunas.  It’s a nice facility, but very overused.  Plus, we both thought the water should be warmer (they temper the hot springs to lower the temp). 

All this recreating takes a lot out of a guy, so hotel, chill, nap.  Dinner is pub style at Salamander.  It’s Monday night, so not real busy.  Thankfully we have a reservation as the friendly bartender lets us know they’re only serving food to bookings tonight.  We don’t quite understand why, but our table is ready and the bartender and the server couldn’t be nicer and more friendly to us.  Whoever writes their menu can definitely work for me, as the descriptions of even the most basic dishes make them sound unmissable.  We settle on the glazed pork belly and traditional sausage roll as starters, and both crush it.  We split the seafood chowder and are glad we did.  We strike up a conversation with the couple at the next table, 30-somethings from Manchester on a driving holiday with their dog.  We talk travel and sports and family and work and generally enjoy the entire short arc of our relationship.

Mandy surprises me by suggesting one more stop tonight, and who am I to say no to a pretty girl who wants a drink?  We make our way to a speakeasy called the Hideout, walking past the Bath Abbey along the way.  Well, mostly there, as the Hideout is pretty well hidden and it takes a few minutes wandering around the abandoned streets and alleys before we find the door to the tiny drinkery.  A good craft bartender is a thing of beauty, so we let this one just create some drinks for us instead of ordering.  He delivers two different cocktails, both whiskey based, and both delish.  We’re sure we don’t need these, so we sip them slowly, enjoying the place and some nice time together.

BATH, CINQUE TERRE & SARDINIA DAY 1 - SUNDAY LONG FUNDAY

jetBlue, of all people, has started a business class service.  It’s called Mint, and it’s replete with all the trappings of high style flying… full lie flat seats with she-she bedding, NYC chef created meals, hand shaken cocktails and the use of $400 noise canceling headphones to watch movies on your 18” screen.  Of course, the real reason we trucked all the way up to JFK and took a chance with it was because it’s literally half the price of United’s Polaris business class and there’s nothing worse then landing in Europe at 7am on no sleep with a sore everything.  Mint did not disappoint, delivering a premium service with premium service, and we land at London’s Gatwick airport just before 8am. 

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The car rental goes smoothly, and we get a free upgrade from the Opal Corsa we booked (see the Ireland blog for more on the Corsa to the Vauxhall Astra, a respectable car for the next few days even if the steering wheel and stick shift insist on being on the wrong side of the vehicle.  It’s a 2 hour ride to Bath and we set on our way.  About 45 minutes in we wheel off the M4 highway to a rest stop.  Rest stops throughout Europe are generally a giant leap better then the ones on the side of American turnpikes.  Generally.  This one is not, overcrowded and overused.  We do score a couple respectable enough cappuccinos and a Traditional Cornish pastry, a meat and veg filled apparatus that, once tried, can be checked off that particular list. 

The rain ends as we pull into Bath and pull up to The Bird Hotel.  We greeted warmly and drop our bags, but of course, at 10am the room isn’t ready.  We freshen up and head into town, the normal routine after an overnight flight eastbound.  It’s a short walk into the center of town and our first stop is the Pulteney Bridge, the tri-arched structure lined with cool narrow shops spanning the River Avon.  Just a hundred yards away is the famous Roman Baths, the town’s namesake.  Built in 70 AD, these are some of the best preserved Roman remains in the world and offer a telling glimpse into the rhythm of daily Roman life.  Most surprising to me is that the baths themselves, after having been used, abandoned,  lost, buried, discovered and recovered by archaeologists, the bathes themselves still largely operate per the original design, a testament to Roman engineering.

Leaving the Baths, Mandy guides us to Sally Lunn’s, the oldest house in Bath and home to the oldest operating restaurant in town.  Through our travels, we’ve had the privilege of sampling some of the world’s signature dishes at the most iconic places to have them – a lobster fresh off the boat in Maine, socca in Niece, France, crepes on the Champs-Ellysees in Paris, herring from a food truck in Amsterdam.  Today at Sally Lunn’s, we’re adding Bath Buns to that list.  We’ve read countless reviews of Bath Buns online but none of them seem to give us an actual clue of what to expect.  The bun itself is huge by bun standards, a fluffy roll about 9” across and 5” high.  It’s about the same texture as an Italian Panettone cake, but with only a hint of sweetness like a King’s Hawaiian roll.  You can get the bun to go, or sit in the restaurant and get them split in half and topped savory or sweet.  We pick one with salmon and cream cheese and another with Brie, cranberry and bacon.  They’re fluffy and yummy and satisfying and equally well paired with both Mandy’s pot of mango lemon tea and my house ale.

The Bath Abby dominates the center of town, with soaring stained glass windows, and flying buttresses typical of the 16^th century gothic design, so you can’t help but pop in for a visit.  The architecture is great, but what we’re most enthralled with are the hundreds of tomb stones that line the walls and floors.  Some have simple inscriptions, but others have full obituaries and others still include the deceased’s last will and testament.  And for many others, their mortal coil will live on in perpetual uncertainty…

We walk around town a bit, taking in Bath’s version of Sunday Funday on this unusually cool spring afternoon.  We wander back to The Bird and check in, time for a well deserved nap.  Dinner will be a two-stop pub-er, with Saracens Head Pub first on recommendation of the kind woman at the front desk who considers it her home base.  Opened in 1713 and the self-proclaimed oldest pub in bath, its claim to fame includes Dickens’s corner, the booth where Charles Dickens penned his serial The Pickwick Papers.  We find a table and watch the locals move in and out for a pint or a nosh.  We try the Pea and Mint Soup, made with plenty of fresh mint pureed into the mix and served sprinkled with pea greens, and tenderly grilled squid.  Both exceed expectations and go very well with the hand pumped Abbot’s cask ale I ordered.

Next stop is The Raven, well-established a three level establishment known for their house made pies.  English pies that is.  We find a table on the 2^nd floor and decide on the Deer Stalker, a silky, comforting venison pie with a buttery crust served over mashers with red wine gravy, and the cheese board, which includes some absolutely excellent local cheddar and Bath bleu.  I’m in cask mode now so I get a The Usual, another local fave and Mandy picks a big red wine to hold up to the British cuisine.  Nice way to end our 29 hour day.