Bath

We had an inauspicious flight to the UK. There was a slight stench as soon as we entered the coach cabin. The low fares attracted quite a "diverse" group, including a slightly belligerent, smelly and very old alcoholic (he sat in front of Mark), parents that used the overhead bins as their own personal dresser drawers (I saw a mom throw a dozen pieces of loose clothing into one), and some very large, uncooperative British adults that acted like children every time they were asked to do anything by the flight attendants. It was noisy and messy, seeming more crowded than usual. People wouldn't sit down until after the plane started to taxi to the runway. I started to think the man sitting to my right may be a serial killer. He stared straight at the flight map on his screen for hours, moved only to accept food and give the trays back, and slept (in the same position as when he stared at the flight map on the screen, but with his eyes closed). He didn't watch any TV or movies, listen to any music, read anything, go to the bathroom, nothing. He barely moved the entire flight. He didn't smell great either, but not as bad as the drunk. Good thing my allergies prevented me from smelling too much. The food was typical airplane food - dinner salad was promising, but chicken and rice disappointed, so I didn't finish it. Good thing I had a salad before we got on the plane. I had the chocolate, but the dessert cake, while it looked delicious, appeared to be gluten-laden, so I laid off it. I read French Milk, a graphic novel of sorts, and watched Bride Wars, which was hilarious and sad at the same time. It made me think about my own wedding a lot, and made me very grateful. I also watched a British movie called something like "Easy Virtue" with Jessica Beal, Colin Firth and Kristin Scott-Thomas (I know, Jessica Beal in a British movie?), and an episode each of Samantha Who? and 'Til Death (miss that show). I napped a couple hours towards the end of the flight, but not enough.

The flight map showing our trajectory and current location identified various other cities around Europe. It made me wish I was visiting more than just London and Bath. I had tried to squeeze in a day trip to Cambridge or Oxford this time, but just couldn't fit it in (again). Other cities I saw on the map that had great names and that I wish I could visit just to say that I had been to a place by such a name: Guernsey, Bournemouth (is it "born-muth" like the Jason Bourne movies, or "burn-muth"? I think the latter), Limerick, Cork, Edinburgh, Manchester, Rouen, and best of all, Newcastle Upon Tyne.

Making the transfer to London Paddington via Heathrow Express was smooth and quick, so we arrived in Paddington in plenty of time for our 3pm train to Bath. (I had considered trying the less expensive Heathrow Connect, but we flew into the new Terminal 5, from which Heathrow Connect does not depart, and I didn't want to take the time to transfer to another terminal and then switch over.) Mark was relieved to be vacationing in a country where everything was written in English.

When we arrived in Bath, I pointed out how lovely and quaint the town felt because it was so well preserved. Mark said, "like Bruges?" (We had just seen the movie "In Bruges." You have to see the movie to get the joke.)

It took us about 15 minutes to find our way to our B&B: Chestnuts House. Check-in was efficient. We were Room 2, which looks exactly like the first room picture on their website.

I'd been slightly hungry this whole trip so far, always eating just enough food to stave off the hunger monster (not on purpose, but because of my new gluten-free diet). So despite having slept less than 7 of the last 48 hours, and traveled 5,500 miles, our hunger overpowered our exhaustion, and we were glad to have dinner reservations to head off to.

I didn't recall the food in Bath being particulary impressive (as I said to Mark, "That isn't why you come to Bath"), but decent, since it was such a popular vacation spot. The Moon and Sixpence is one of the more well-reviewed restaurants in Bath, and it exceeded my mediocre expectations. For instance, I was pleasantly surprised by the amuse bouche, as I didn't expect this to be the kind of restaurant to send out an amuse. It was a prawn and tomato salad with shell-shaped saffron gelee and a celeriac slaw. It was very nice, although I commented that the chef would be criticized by the Top Chef judges for serving an amuse that was more than one bite. Our starter was a scallop dish (pan seared?) with some kind of slightly-spicy sausage and bean purée. The scallops themselves were delicious, and the sausages tasty, but tough. I don't know about sitting it on top of bean puree, though. I had the sea bass as my main (probably a local variety since it didn't resemble the chilean sea bass I'm accustomed to seeing in the States), which was interestingly served on a bed of warm fennel, chard and brazil nut (probably my first taste of a brazil nut) salad with grapefruit slices. The sea bass was perfectly cooked and delicious, but Mark's duck breast was even better, on top of cabbage, carrots and cranberries, which in turn were on top of smashed (not to be confused with mashed) potatoes. It was a perfectly proportioned main dish, with just enough veg and starch (actually we could have had more of everything on his plate because it was so good, but that would have been gluttonous). To my delight, the recommended dessert of raspberry cheesecake didn't have a crust (more like a raspberry cheese mousse), and was both different and delicious. It was served with a raspberry sauce and poached pear.

I couldn't wait any longer to show Mark the Royal Crescent, which was probably the driving purpose of this trip. So I led him to the gravel path, once walked daily by Jane Austen herself, which leads to the base of the lawn in front of the Royal Crescent.The building itself was dirtier than I remember, but still so beautiful and grand. Last time I was here, I didn't get the chance to walk along the actual Royal Crescent street (I admired it only from the base of the lawn), so we were both seeing the Royal Crescent up close for the first time. I can't believe people still live there. One of these days, I'm going to stay at the Royal Crescent Hotel, which occupies the house in the very center of the Royal Crescent. We walked past all the houses looking in at people reading and talking on the phone, and wondered if they were ordinary people with enough money to buy here, or if they were from old, aristocratic families.

When we got back to our room, my exhaustion hit me pretty suddenly and hard. So I showered and crashed. It was 10pm.

I awoke the next morning to the most beautiful breakfast, with a cold bar as well as omelettes and full English breakfasts made to order, and of course coffee, chocolate and tea.

Our host turned us on to the free guided tours of Bath, which during which Mark fell deeply for our tour guide, an elderly, English lady that was very well-informed about Bath. She said she could speak for at least an hour just about the history and architecture of the Circus. Mark later said he would enjoy listening to her speak about the Circus for an hour or more.

We visited the Roman Baths, and I tasted the famous Bath water, which comes out of this beautiful old fountain in the Pump Room.

I was prepared for the slightly sulphuric taste, but the warmth of the water took me by surprise. And then we were on to London.

I failed, once again, to make it to the Thermae Bath Spa.