It took us half a day to drive from Bath (in the southwestern part of England) to York (in the northeast). Most of the time was spent on major highways with Paula zipping in and out of traffic like a pro. She’d even learned the key to using roundabouts — if you miss your exit the first time (or have no clue which way to go), just keep circling!
The only problem we had was when we reached the city and had to find our B&B, somewhere near the center of town. For Paula, It’s never a good thing to actually enter the city and have to drive on narrow roads built by the Romans centuries ago. The minute she realized we were downtown, her blood pressure rose … along with her tone of voice! This always made me nervous.
After a tense fifteen minutes, we emerged on the other side of the city and saw a bus station. I told Paula to stop so I could ask for directions. While she tried to calm down, I got out of the car and approached a nearby driver. Too bad he didn’t speak English. In a language that sounded like Italian (although how would I know since I only spoke English), he pointed me toward another bus where the driver proceeded to tell me how easy it was to find our B&B. All we had to do was go back to the light, turn left, look for a church, turn right, go to another light, turn left, turn left at the next corner, turn right and then left again and we’d be there. When I asked him to repeat the directions, he said, “Just follow the traffic.” Paula, who was listening from the car, yelled, “What do you mean follow the traffic? The traffic’s going everywhere! We need to write it down.” At that point, she handed me a piece of paper, and I asked him to repeat the instructions line by line. He rattled them off three more times before I finally had it.
A few minutes later, we found the address. The B&B was lovely. The only negative was climbing the 55 stairs to the third floor. The first forty steps were fine … it was the last fifteen that nearly killed us! Even the owner, Chris, who helped with the luggage, had to stop on the second floor landing to catch his breath. After settling in, we found the nearest pub where we spent the rest of the evening — eating, drinking, admiring the bartender and talking to our sweet Portuguese waitress.
The next morning, we headed out to explore York. We’d chosen to visit this walled city, built by the Romans in 71 A.D., because of its rich history as well as to experience a different part of the country. Our sightseeing began with a tour of York Minster, the largest Gothic cathedral in Northern Europe.
Next, we walked to a medieval section of the city known as “The Shambles,” a narrow cobblestone road dating back to the 14th century. Historically, it was lined with butcher shops and homes. Today, it’s one of the most popular tourist attractions in Europe with shops, restaurants and street performers. We found it well worth the visit!
After shopping, it was time for refreshments. We stopped at The Golden Fleece, which claims to be the most haunted pub in York. I’m not exactly sure how they know it’s the “most haunted,” but I decided to simply take their word for it. Luckily, we were there in the late afternoon and left before dark!
We spent our last evening in York at the pub we’d gone to the night before. We were happy to see the same bartender and waitress working again, and they seemed pleased to see us as well. While Paula admired the young bartender, I asked the Portuguese girl about her family. After dinner and a few drinks, it was time to say goodbye. We’d miss them.
Surprisingly, York turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip! The people were friendly and down-to-earth, the architecture was amazing, the shopping district was charming and the pubs were welcoming and comfortable. What more could we ask for? The answer: To stay longer.
Unfortunately, our European trip was coming to an end. Tomorrow morning, we’d have to wake up at 6 a.m. and race back to London to catch a plane. I’ll miss you, York!