Land of luscious green hills turned to gold
The Cotswolds are an "Area of Outstanding National Beauty." Under England's (and Wale's) AONB scheme, changes to the landscape are limited by law. So in the Cotswolds we end up with these rolling, grassy hills dotted with medieval stone villages of golden limestone, looking just how you would expect the English countryside to look.
We had occasion to pass this fine weekend in the Cotswolds because I had a Thursday meeting in Birmingham. Birmingham is about a one and half hour train ride from London, so on Wednesday I loaded the family on the train with me. We spent two nights in Birmingham, famed for its early entrepreneurial role in the Industrial Revolution, now laced with old canals and warehouses and more recent waves of redevelopment. On Friday we aimed the rented Mercedes south toward the Cotswolds, about an hour south from Birmingham; we stopped along the way in Stratford-upon-Avon, home of Shakespeare, before arriving in Stow-on-the-Wold, the Cotswold village where we stayed two more nights.
Birmingham
England's second largest city, Birmingham seems to be in the midst of a rejuvenation, even while many parts of it are looking tired, some really tired -- all stone warehouses and weed-filled canals, remnants of 19th century industry -- and some less tired but tired still -- 1960s and 1970s drab and square concrete hulks, parking lots nearby. My firm's office is on a redeveloped square surrounded by restaurants. There was a big screen and projector showing Back to the Future one evening. Passing some time in the square, scoping restaurants for dinner, we realized they are all actually chains. A chain doesn't have to be a bad restaurant, but it's much harder for them to be good, when the owners don't have a personal relationship with the staff.
While I worked on Thursday, Christine and Bobby visited the large aquarium, the National Sea Life Centre. Bobby was thrilled looking at all of the fish. I am wondering, however, how this landlocked city ends up hosting such a major aquarium. The aquarium didn't seem to be canal focused.
Peaky Blinders is supposed to have taken place in Birmingham, back in the days (1920s) when Birmingham was one of the world's primary factories. In the show, you can see the soot in the air and the flames bursting from steel and iron works. The old habits of Birmingham are dying like they are in London, however, and Birmingham is turning into a services-based economy.
Maybe the habits are dying harder in Birmingham. Just outside the bustling center of restaurants, bars, and aquariums, there are warehouses and light industrial buildings, some abandoned and covered in graffiti or falling down. In the city center we saw a remarkable number of dirty folks passed out in the streets looking like they were part of an opiod epidemic. In a public square we also saw hooligans heckling a group of Muslims dressed in tunics and seeking support for some movement; interestingly enough, this was happening across the road from a street preacher (a man telling Bible stories to anyone who would listen, except no one was paying him much attention as we walked by).
I am sorry if I cast Birmingham in a bad light. I could hardly call myself an expert after staying 48 hours there. The city center seems to offer a miniaturized version of the London experience -- urban living in a post-industrial, increasingly service-based economy. We had at least one very good meal (see Bob in the photo chomping down those poppadom), and we've read that Birmingham offers some other very good restaurants. There is definitely a lot of development happening now in Birmingham (as there is also in London, with cranes jutting into the skyline in all parts of the city).
Maybe the Birmingham experience is supposed to have just a bit of a harder edge because it's not so effete like London. London is, after all, the cradle of modern white collar industries like banking, insurance, and accounting; Birmingham, the cradle of manufacturing. One of those cradles will give you much stronger arms than the other.
Stratford-upon-Avon
The birthplace of the Bard sits just on top of the Cotswolds about an hour's train ride from London. You don't hear complaints about over tourism in towns like this because the tourists have won. Famous attractions include the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Shakespeare's home and museum, and Church of the Holy Trinity, where Shakespeare was baptised and buried. Of course, whether we would be able to visit these sites would be wholly dependent on our toddler's particular mood. Watching a play is of course completely out of the question because holding still and paying attention to one thing (e.g., a play) is anathema to his being.
Each day is defined by the success of Bobby's nap. We tried to keep him awake for the ride from Birmingham to Stratford in hopes we'd get a good nap on the move in the Ergo Baby after lunch, but, unable to resist being lulled to sleep by the gentle motion of the moving car (just like his dad), he took a short nap. Should we have just kept driving for the next two hours to ensure he had a full nap? Well, we had lunch reservations, and we hoped we could get him to sleep again while on the move in the Ergo Baby. We managed to have a fairly successful three course lunch. By the time we got to Shakespeare's house, patience was running thin. We did see the museum and house, but just. In our brief time there I did manage to learn that Shakespeare grew up in town; his dad was a glove maker; so he was comfortably middle class, during a time when very few lived in town or were middle class. I guess that's how he was afforded the education he needed to write with that rhythm and those words about far off European lands such as Denmark and Italy.
When travelling we try to book ahead at restaurants we have found through Internet research (the Michelin Red Guide has never steered us wrong). We look for restaurants that promise to serve local recipes with local ingredients. We're hoping through our dining we can imbibe what the locals might and maybe learn about the local culture. In Stratford we ate at Salt and had a meal including fresh vegetables and tomatoes and baked fish. It was fantastic. Bobby especially liked the heirloom tomatoes and insisted on giving his compliments to the chef.
After lunch we visited the Church of the Holy Trinity. Surrounding these old English churches are always cemeteries, usually not too dense with graves. Bobby had fun picking up branches in the cemetery and running wild with them. We then took a nice stroll along the river Avon and saw some ducks. While Bobby mostly prefers motor vehicles these days, he still enjoys seeing a good duck when he can.
Having spent a fun afternoon in Stratford, we loaded the family back into the diesel Benz and headed south yet again.
Go south to the Cotsowlds
Civilisation dates back far in the Cotswolds. We stayed in a hotel claiming to be England's oldest inn, built in 947 AD, though the building has had many other uses over the years. The Cotswold villages were built when the area was getting wealthy from wool production during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The rural landscapes to this day are still covered in grass and grazing sheep. And now, while not as many inhabitants are rich from the wool trade, many wealthy Londoners own second homes in the Cotswolds (which is about one and a half to two hours from London by train). As evidenced by the masses of traffic clogging the narrow country roads, the Cotswolds are a popular holiday destination.
The Porch House is in Stow-on-the-Wold, a characteristically charming Cotswold village. We strolled around the village several times, down some back alleys, ate lunch in a pub at an inn, visited the local shops, selling items such as kitchen utensils, toys, cheese, ice cream, and real estate (for all of you looking for second homes). We strolled into the village church. Bobby pet the dog of a local woman (no doubt a wealthy person semi-permanently decamed from London).
We drove to a nearby village for dinner at another gourmet pub, the Kingham Plough, and along the way stopped to marvel at the rolling hills, usually green but gold now because of the U.K.'s strangely hot and dry summer. Driving on these narrow roads (on the left side, no less), hugged by trees and shrubs, is a bit nerve wracking for an American used to wider ways; things are especially stressful when you cross paths with a tractor, as you often do in this rural area.
Hopefully this has convinced you that the Cotswolds will fulfill all of your English countryside fantasies. This is the bucolic Europe we dream about.
Arriving home on Sunday afternoon, we began packing up for our adventure to Washington, D.C. starting on Wednesday. Bobby's cold had turned into a fever by the time we returned to London. Would everyone survive to make the D.C. trip? Stay tuned.
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| Bobby dashing through the village common in Kingham, a small Cotswolds village where we had dinner at the Kingham Plough, an upmarket pub (many, or most, of the pubs in the Cotswolds seemed to be upmarket). |
We had occasion to pass this fine weekend in the Cotswolds because I had a Thursday meeting in Birmingham. Birmingham is about a one and half hour train ride from London, so on Wednesday I loaded the family on the train with me. We spent two nights in Birmingham, famed for its early entrepreneurial role in the Industrial Revolution, now laced with old canals and warehouses and more recent waves of redevelopment. On Friday we aimed the rented Mercedes south toward the Cotswolds, about an hour south from Birmingham; we stopped along the way in Stratford-upon-Avon, home of Shakespeare, before arriving in Stow-on-the-Wold, the Cotswold village where we stayed two more nights.
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| Dad and son both thrilled to be riding a Virgin train to Birmingham. Bob is munching on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich made by his Mum at home. |
Birmingham
England's second largest city, Birmingham seems to be in the midst of a rejuvenation, even while many parts of it are looking tired, some really tired -- all stone warehouses and weed-filled canals, remnants of 19th century industry -- and some less tired but tired still -- 1960s and 1970s drab and square concrete hulks, parking lots nearby. My firm's office is on a redeveloped square surrounded by restaurants. There was a big screen and projector showing Back to the Future one evening. Passing some time in the square, scoping restaurants for dinner, we realized they are all actually chains. A chain doesn't have to be a bad restaurant, but it's much harder for them to be good, when the owners don't have a personal relationship with the staff.
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| Bob running along the Birmingham Canal Old Line, near to the aquarium and the chain restaurants of Oozell's Square. |
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| Just loving the poppadoms at Asha's. The Indian food here was delicious, and Bob was so well behaved (i.e., he sat in his chair and ate his dinner without much complaint). It's times like these that make you forget how frustrating toddler logic and demands can be. |
While I worked on Thursday, Christine and Bobby visited the large aquarium, the National Sea Life Centre. Bobby was thrilled looking at all of the fish. I am wondering, however, how this landlocked city ends up hosting such a major aquarium. The aquarium didn't seem to be canal focused.
Peaky Blinders is supposed to have taken place in Birmingham, back in the days (1920s) when Birmingham was one of the world's primary factories. In the show, you can see the soot in the air and the flames bursting from steel and iron works. The old habits of Birmingham are dying like they are in London, however, and Birmingham is turning into a services-based economy.
Maybe the habits are dying harder in Birmingham. Just outside the bustling center of restaurants, bars, and aquariums, there are warehouses and light industrial buildings, some abandoned and covered in graffiti or falling down. In the city center we saw a remarkable number of dirty folks passed out in the streets looking like they were part of an opiod epidemic. In a public square we also saw hooligans heckling a group of Muslims dressed in tunics and seeking support for some movement; interestingly enough, this was happening across the road from a street preacher (a man telling Bible stories to anyone who would listen, except no one was paying him much attention as we walked by).
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| Muslims to the far right, hecklers just left of them, Christian on the far left, tired concrete monolith in the middle. |
I am sorry if I cast Birmingham in a bad light. I could hardly call myself an expert after staying 48 hours there. The city center seems to offer a miniaturized version of the London experience -- urban living in a post-industrial, increasingly service-based economy. We had at least one very good meal (see Bob in the photo chomping down those poppadom), and we've read that Birmingham offers some other very good restaurants. There is definitely a lot of development happening now in Birmingham (as there is also in London, with cranes jutting into the skyline in all parts of the city).
Maybe the Birmingham experience is supposed to have just a bit of a harder edge because it's not so effete like London. London is, after all, the cradle of modern white collar industries like banking, insurance, and accounting; Birmingham, the cradle of manufacturing. One of those cradles will give you much stronger arms than the other.
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| Thrilled in the Birmingham aquarium. |
Stratford-upon-Avon
The birthplace of the Bard sits just on top of the Cotswolds about an hour's train ride from London. You don't hear complaints about over tourism in towns like this because the tourists have won. Famous attractions include the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Shakespeare's home and museum, and Church of the Holy Trinity, where Shakespeare was baptised and buried. Of course, whether we would be able to visit these sites would be wholly dependent on our toddler's particular mood. Watching a play is of course completely out of the question because holding still and paying attention to one thing (e.g., a play) is anathema to his being.
Each day is defined by the success of Bobby's nap. We tried to keep him awake for the ride from Birmingham to Stratford in hopes we'd get a good nap on the move in the Ergo Baby after lunch, but, unable to resist being lulled to sleep by the gentle motion of the moving car (just like his dad), he took a short nap. Should we have just kept driving for the next two hours to ensure he had a full nap? Well, we had lunch reservations, and we hoped we could get him to sleep again while on the move in the Ergo Baby. We managed to have a fairly successful three course lunch. By the time we got to Shakespeare's house, patience was running thin. We did see the museum and house, but just. In our brief time there I did manage to learn that Shakespeare grew up in town; his dad was a glove maker; so he was comfortably middle class, during a time when very few lived in town or were middle class. I guess that's how he was afforded the education he needed to write with that rhythm and those words about far off European lands such as Denmark and Italy.
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| The horizontal toddler is a universal sign of a family that is working hard to keep it together in public because they are all in various stages of "losing their shit." By the time we were upstairs in the bard's old house, Bobby had had just about enough. |
When travelling we try to book ahead at restaurants we have found through Internet research (the Michelin Red Guide has never steered us wrong). We look for restaurants that promise to serve local recipes with local ingredients. We're hoping through our dining we can imbibe what the locals might and maybe learn about the local culture. In Stratford we ate at Salt and had a meal including fresh vegetables and tomatoes and baked fish. It was fantastic. Bobby especially liked the heirloom tomatoes and insisted on giving his compliments to the chef.
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| This butter from Oxfordshire was so rich and creamy it was almost like a cheese. For Christine, the rest of her life will be spent searching the world for a butter like she had in Stratford-upon-Avon. |
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| You never know what the boy will like. Bobby was a huge fan of this heirloom tomato salad. In the background are Jersey potatoes with garlic and sourdough. |
After lunch we visited the Church of the Holy Trinity. Surrounding these old English churches are always cemeteries, usually not too dense with graves. Bobby had fun picking up branches in the cemetery and running wild with them. We then took a nice stroll along the river Avon and saw some ducks. While Bobby mostly prefers motor vehicles these days, he still enjoys seeing a good duck when he can.
Having spent a fun afternoon in Stratford, we loaded the family back into the diesel Benz and headed south yet again.
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| Playing with branches in the graveyard at Shakespeare's church. |
Go south to the Cotsowlds
Civilisation dates back far in the Cotswolds. We stayed in a hotel claiming to be England's oldest inn, built in 947 AD, though the building has had many other uses over the years. The Cotswold villages were built when the area was getting wealthy from wool production during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The rural landscapes to this day are still covered in grass and grazing sheep. And now, while not as many inhabitants are rich from the wool trade, many wealthy Londoners own second homes in the Cotswolds (which is about one and a half to two hours from London by train). As evidenced by the masses of traffic clogging the narrow country roads, the Cotswolds are a popular holiday destination.
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| While the Porch House is undoubtedly house in an old building, the inside is cleaned up and is without that musty smell you find in these old pubs claiming hundreds of years of lineage. |
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| The pub and restaurant in the Porch House. These English country inns almost always have pubs. In the old days, inns were the only place to get food and drink outside the home. There were no wine bars or celebrity chefs with tasting menus. And everyone wants a pint and a sandwich after a long journey. The exposed and crooked wooden beams and stone fireplace and floor give you a sense of the heritage of this place. |
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| We stayed in the penthouse. It perhaps was a little more cramped than what you might have expected from a penthouse suite. Bobby had had a cold for weeks and it was getting worse here; sharing a room with us, his restless sleep also became restless sleep for us. By Sunday he had a fever. |
The Porch House is in Stow-on-the-Wold, a characteristically charming Cotswold village. We strolled around the village several times, down some back alleys, ate lunch in a pub at an inn, visited the local shops, selling items such as kitchen utensils, toys, cheese, ice cream, and real estate (for all of you looking for second homes). We strolled into the village church. Bobby pet the dog of a local woman (no doubt a wealthy person semi-permanently decamed from London).
We drove to a nearby village for dinner at another gourmet pub, the Kingham Plough, and along the way stopped to marvel at the rolling hills, usually green but gold now because of the U.K.'s strangely hot and dry summer. Driving on these narrow roads (on the left side, no less), hugged by trees and shrubs, is a bit nerve wracking for an American used to wider ways; things are especially stressful when you cross paths with a tractor, as you often do in this rural area.
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| Pulling off to the side of the road on the way back to Stow from Kingham. Checking out that famous Cotswolds landscape, you can see a few sheep dotted in the frame. |
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| An alleyway nearby the church. |
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| A Stow-on-the-Wold lane right off the main square. |
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| Bobby seemed to like our rental car. Behind him you can see part of Stow's town square, which has all been paved over into a parking lot. Parking was in ample supply here. On the one hand, pedestrianisation is all the rage in the U.K.; on the other hand, for anywhere you want to go in the Cotswolds, you must drive, so the Cotswold parking lot interests are strong. |
Hopefully this has convinced you that the Cotswolds will fulfill all of your English countryside fantasies. This is the bucolic Europe we dream about.
Arriving home on Sunday afternoon, we began packing up for our adventure to Washington, D.C. starting on Wednesday. Bobby's cold had turned into a fever by the time we returned to London. Would everyone survive to make the D.C. trip? Stay tuned.
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