Cotswolds Trip of Life.

So this past Friday and Saturday was our free travel weekend, and my group elected to take an hour and half train ride out to the Cotswolds--the Heart of England. The hostel we stayed in was in a little hilltop town called Stow-on-the-Wold, which was very small and isolated. The first day, Kristin, Kaitlin and I took the bus to Bourton-on-the-Water, which had little low stone bridges over the river. The town was gorgeous and built in the traditional yellow Cotswold limestone.

A bridge in Bourton-on-the-Water.


Me at the gate to begin our tramping. I should have brought Wellies....

After we had our fill of Bourton, we walked the public footpath about 1/4 mile to the even smaller village of Lower Slaughter. We ate delicious handmade ice cream at the old mill before heading out on our 3.5 mile tramp through the English countryside back to Stow.

The church in Lower Slaughter.


The fields were extremely muddy and we had to be set straight on our path by some kind farmers a couple times, but we made it back to our hostel safely, having seen the best part of England there is to see.

That night we ate dinner in a pub called The Queen's Head Inn (bangers and mash and apple crumble for dessert...yum!). I promptly fell asleep the minutes we got back to our room; even Matilda, our 45-year old roommate from Seattle, didn't wake me up when she came in.

The next morning we had a small breakfast at a coffee shop, where I had hot chocolate and a vanilla custard pastry. We wandered around the village after that, and then caught a bus back to Moreton-in-Marsh where we were supposed to catch our train back to London at about 6:20 that night. Alyson and I had a traditional cream tea (herbal, of course), complete with scones and a ploughman's lunch. It was nice to sit and relax and talk for a couple hours, and not have to worry about being somewhere or seeing something. That's one thing I absolutely love about England (and Europe in general, I'm told), is how much time they take for meals--they are really just relaxed and not rushed and meant to be a time to talk and just stop for awhile. I think Americans can definitely take a page out of England's book and just slow down once in a while, especially for meals.

Me at the tea house. Yum!

Anyway, after Alyson and I finished we caught a bus out to Chipping Campden. Our original intention was to see some thatched-roof houses and take in the peaceful atmosphere of yet another sleepy English village. But no. What we found was the village's annual spring/"Olimpick" festival and carnival. Complete with parade and maypole dancing. Even the mayor was there, dressed in all his mayorly regalia. Holy cow! It was amazing. We were so lucky to just happen upon this teeny village's tradition and thought it was cool to have a glimpse into regular English life.

Maypole dance.

We left the village to hoof it back up the hill to the bus stop. The thing is, it never came. About an hour later of somewhat panicked waiting--we were just chilling in the middle of England, so obviously had nothing to complain about--we called a taxi that promptly took us to the Moreton train station. Our train had already left, so we settled in wait for the next one. It came and we soon found ourselves back in London, happy to have had a real adventure in the sequestered rolling hills of the Cotswolds.