England & Portugal - 2025

A house-sit in England prompted this trip.  We've done some 15 house-sits domestically through Trusted Housesitters, building up our credentials and plotting to take some overseas.   It's a way to travel cheaply, but perhaps more importantly, it provides an opportunity to live in a more relaxed atmosphere like a local.  This is another instance of Martha pushing me beyond my normal comfort zone and it's been rewarding.  We've experienced places and met interesting people that have broadened my perspectives and this trip pushed it to a new level.

We'd actually scheduled two-back-to-back sits in England, but the second fell through.   It was to be in Hammersmith, a western area of London, but the host got the dates wrong and let us know after we'd made our flight arrangements.  After scrambling, we truncated the schedule and, with a tepid streak of ambition, decided to add a week in Lisbon.  We’ve always meant to visit Portugal.   It seems to be a rite of passage nowadays, but in the past few years of travel it kept falling off the list. 

The schedule became a couple days in London to adjust to the time difference - and in case there were any flight problems -- then a train to Bristol and rental car from there to our housesit in Wellow, a village just south of Bath, for two weeks.   When finished, back to London for a few days - and Martha’s birthday - then on to Lisbon for a week.

Patrick and his girlfriend, Cailie, took us to the train station in Richmond.  Amtrak got us to Alexandria where we caught the Metro out to Dulles.   Super early, we cooled our heels at a wine bar.  The aviation geek in me was thrilled we were on an A380, a double-decker monster and the world's largest passenger plane.  The flight was uneventful; though Martha was discombobulated when the guy in front of her lowered his seat.   With some modest indulgence, we fly premium economy on flights to Europe now; but the rudeness of this clown kinda ruined the benefit for her.

Following the route we'd learned last year, we jumped on the Elizabeth line into London and Victoria Station and our hotel, the Clermont at Victoria.

Wandering around Belgravia that afternoon we found a nice corner wine bar/bistro, the Elizabeth, and had some snacks and drinks; then headed back to the hotel and indulged at the Reunion bar with a view overlooking the bustling interior of the train station.

Martha usually plans our activities, but I uncharacteristically planned the next day.   We went to the Saatchi Gallery that was holding a British Art Fair.  An AI video artist had a display I wanted to see (Fredrik Jonsson).   We then went to the Garden at 120 with a nice view of the downtown.  Then we took the ‘tube’ out to Camden.  I knew it was a funky area, the home of the late Amy Winehouse, and it lived up to its reputation.  Loud, raucous and crowded.   It was impossible to stay, so we headed back to our hotel neighborhood.   We simply defaulted to a pub dinner at the Victoria across the street from the Clermont.  A Green King establishment, which is a sort of pub chain.   But a woman’s rugby game was on with a jovial Saturday crowd.   It’s always amusing and cozy to enjoy a British pub, especially when a game is on that animates the patrons.

Sunday the 28th; we enjoyed breakfast at the Clermont, which is part of the reason we returned to it.  Then hauled our bags on the tube and over to Paddington station to catch our inter-city train to Bristol.   There was a switch-over at a station that I was anxious about - fearing our Austria experience last year - but it went smoothly.  Then walked with our bags about six blocks to the Sixt car rental location.   Just in time before they closed.   Now came the real test.   I’d been seriously anxious about this part of the trip.   I’ve been to Britain more than any other country, but I’ve never driven there.   I expected the whole driving on the left side would be confusing and disorienting.  But it turned out that was easy enough.  It was the narrow lanes of traffic and the helter-skelter rules of engagement that was more terrifying. 

Cautiously driving in to Wellow, I was relieved to finally pull into Farm Lane.  Our hosts, Avril and Rob came out to warmly greet us.    They gave us a tour of their lovely home, which was extraordinary.  The photos in Trusted Housesitters didn't do it justice.  An old stable that had been converted to a home, it featured old beams and wood flooring, surrounded by a stunning garden that Rob had built.  Looking out the back windows across the garden we could see the 14th century church steeple in the village.  We also met our charges, Layla and Lola, two 14-year old cats - named after '70's songs - as Avril and Rob showed us the workings of the house.  The cats had an exit door to the garden so aside from feeding and cuddling them on our laps, there wasn't much to do.   

Rob had ordered take-away Indian food and I drove with him to pick it up.  It's always interesting to meet people from other countries and talk about our experience and perspectives and, of course, politics came up.    When Martha applied for this sit she took the liberty of adding, "in case it's important, we are not supporters of the current administration."  Avril replied, "I'm so glad you brought that up.  It saved us from having to ask."  Sure enough, they were Liberal Democratic Party supporters, which is sort of in-between Tories and Labor.  

We had a pleasant visit over dinner, spent the night with them and toured the village the next morning.  Wellow is charming.  An idyllic English village out of a storybook.  There's a little grocery shop that's overpriced, but there if you really need something.  There's the old church whose bells ring on the quarter hour.  A private school with the voices of kids in the playground.  And the pub; the Fox and Badger, a delightful social hub with delicious food. 

After scoping out Wellow, we decided to brave the trip into Bath; about 15 minutes away.  Avril and Rob were leaving at 3:00 to catch a flight to Spain, so they'd be gone by the time we got back.  

Parking in Bath is difficult, so at Rob's suggestion we went to a park-and-ride (the benefit of having a local guide) and took a short bus ride into town.   Most of Bath is pedestrian with more commercial shops at one end and more touristy shops around the Roman baths (the town's namesake)

The next two weeks were some of the enjoyable I've ever had.  Not just in a house-sit; but in a vacation.  Hearing the church bells ring, the sounds of horses clomping up the lane past the house, working on a crossword puzzle with Martha, reading with the cats on our laps.  We were able to mix relaxing in a comfortable home with occasional excursions to local attractions and strolling down to the pub for dinner. Exactly what we'd been hoping for....but even better.

Avril and Rob had left us a list of things we could visit nearby.   He had told me that Stonehenge was overrated and too crowded.  They recommended the closer Avebury henges, about 20 minutes away.   Like Stonehenge, it's prehistoric symmetrical collection on monoliths that are assumed to be for religious or celestial purposes.  But unlike Stonehenge this covered a much larger area and we could walk the circumference bordering the surrounding deep trench.  Not surprisingly, there were collections of small shops and vendors of 'new-age,' mystical souvenirs as well. 

On another outing, we visited Farleigh Castle, just 10 minutes away.  It was mostly ruins, but a beautiful day with very few people and a relaxing way to absorb the history.

For some reason; our host's suggestion or Martha's research, we went to another town called Bradford on Avon.  Typically old, but unremarkable and could have been skipped. 

Walking around the surrounding fields of Wellow had its own treasures.  The English have a tradition of walking across the fields of their countryside, often in their 'wellies.'   It's accommodated by footpaths that cut across private fields, often only marked by small signs, gates and light ropes guiding hikers among horses, sheep or cattle.  You need to watch your step.  We had difficulty finding these paths at first until some locals pointed them out.  

One of the most notable walking excursions was to Stony Littleton Long Barrow, a burial mound that dates to some 3500 BC.   It was only a mile walk from the town on a crest that offered a beautiful view of Wellow.  This is one of the best 'barrows' in England and we were the only people there.   A good example of treading the road less traveled.  

Another excursion was a hike to the nearby town of Midford along a dedicated pathway.  About 2 miles each way, we timed it to have lunch at their village pub, the Hope and Anchor.  Delightful!

We'd struck up some conversations with the neighbors who were very friendly and helpful.  Mostly other retired folks.  The next door couple recommended we visit a town called Castle Comb, supposedly the quintessential English village.  A Cotswold flavored town about thirty minutes away.  By this time, I was getting a bit more comfortable with the driving.  At least I understood some of the roads and the rules of engagement.  Castle Comb was touristy, though not overwhelming.  Some of the views can be found in any search on the Cotswold's.   But it was also a functioning and exclusive site for locals, with a manor house for big events and weddings, one of which was going on.

Martha did another trip into Bath via Uber to visit the Jane Austen museum, while I stayed home with the cats. 

In several of these driving outings, especially when using the park-and-ride into Bath, we'd stop in a Sainsbury grocery store to pick up some supplies.   After quite a few house-sits, we have a set shopping list to get us through short-term periods.  Enough to meet needs but not be wasteful.  

On our last full day, we did another trip into Bath.  It was a Saturday and mobbed.   There were even lines for the shuttle buses. We visited the No 1 Royal Crescent, a recreated home of the late 18th century.   It played up the Jane Austen theme made famous, Martha informed me, in series like Bridgerton.   We also - finally - visited the Roman baths.  The Romans took advantage of the natural warm springs to build an extravagant bathing and social complex.  Parts of it were well preserved and I was again struck by the sophistication of the Romans, how long they lasted (some 700 years) and how they disappeared, leaving Europe in a dark pit for another 1,000 years.

We made a reservation at the Fox & Badger for that evening, though it wasn't really necessary.   We'd been there earlier in our stay for a pop-up food truck 'taco night' (which wasn't that hot).  "Would you like some coriander on that?.....I think you folks call it cilantro."   We'd also had dinner there a previous evening and the food was wonderful.  Comfort food with some sophistication.  I had duck, which is done so well in Europe (Why don't Americans do duck?)  On this, our final evening in Wellow, there was a rugby game on the television and the pub was crowded with local folks, kids and dogs.   A cozy and friendly scene that we relished with some envy. We seem to be losing the same sense of community in the U.S.

Heartbroken to see our Wellow stint ending, we packed up for the trek back to London.  We already knew; Wellow was going to be the highlight of our entire trip and taught us something about structuring future travel.   More house-sits.

Retracing our steps in reverse, I drove back to Bristol with a bit more confidence on the road and relieved to drop the car off without any incidents or dings.   Then walked several blocks back to the train station where we found our train had been cancelled.  Fortunately, the Great Western Railway has lots of staff mingling about and we were directed to another train that made a connection back to London at Paddington station.   From there, the tube to Gloucester Road and our next hotel, the Bailey's, right across from the tube station.

Rather than returning to the Clermont, we wanted to try something different.  The Bailey's was nice.  But it had too many Americans for our taste and I found that most of the staff had such a poor understanding of English that they had trouble doing their jobs.  Not that they should be fluent.  Just know the difference between a towel rack and towels…

On Monday we meandered through some quiet neighborhoods - a favorite pastime - including Little Venice and Regent's Park.  It struck me that maybe we could find Abbey Road studios and the famous crosswalk.  Checking my map, I found it was only three blocks away.  As expected, a good number of tourists recreating the crosswalk scene.

That evening we had a pre-theater dinner at Brown's in Victoria (adequate) before seeing Hamilton at the Victoria Theatre.  We'd been listening to the score and reading some guides beforehand to better follow the storyline.  I'd read the book by Ron Chernow a few years before and Martha had read a biography of Eliza Hamilton.  I was skeptical about minority actors using rap to portray old white guys, but it totally worked.  It was stirring and emotional with catchy tunes and followed all the nuances of the story.   

On Tuesday, October 14 - Martha's 65th birthday - we visited the British Museum.  I'd been before, but it was new for her.  It's enormous and houses centuries of things British and artifacts the Empire pillaged from holdings all over the globe.   Mostly a lot of old shit.  Some of it really old.   We split up to wander towards our interests.  

That evening, to celebrate Martha's birthday, we went to L'Escargots in Soho.  It was tucked away in a quiet street in an otherwise raucous, party area.  Excellent food and wonderful service, though.  Cocktails, wine, signature escargots and birthday treats.

The last day in London we strolled over to the Leadenhall Market, then to the southside of the Thames, admiring some of the novelties and housing there, then back across the Tower Bridge, along the remnants of the Roman wall, then made our way back to the Bailey's.

On the 16th we started the next stage of the trip, Lisbon.  Again, we had to leave from Paddington, taking a train down to Gatwick for a two-hour flight.   Martha had booked a place called the York House in the Santos neighborhood of Lisbon.  Somewhat convenient, but a little distant from the more touristy areas.  

When we were dropped off by our Uber driver, I was not impressed.   Over the next week we came to appreciate some of the flavor, charms and neighborhoods that so many rave about.   But whether it was from fatigue at this point in the trip, the charm of Wellow or even London, Lisbon was struggling in our eyes.  

In trying to get our bearings, I led us down a few blocks along the waterfront, which was depressing.   Run down, graffiti, trashy.   Maybe just a wrong turn, but it wasn't a good first impression.  Finally wandering toward the more popular areas, we defaulted to nice hotel restaurant, Corpo Santo, and had a delightful meal. 

Over the next week we combined some targeted activities with some wanderings. One of the first was up to the Sao Jorge Castle overlooking the city. It's a 'must-see' tourist attraction. It was a strenuous climb with plenty of tourists.

We've accepted the fact that sometimes it's better to sign up for a tour rather than try and scope things out ourselves.  Maybe it's a concession to age, but we'll likely get more from visiting a location with someone who can explain it -- and with less hassle.  Martha signed up for a tour of Sintra and Cascais; two highly popular sites only an hour or so from Lisbon.  At a meeting spot downtown, we boarded a coach bus with others and had a guide give us a running talk during the drive.

Sintra has an old palace with some Moorish roots along with other notable old estates.  It was fascinating to walk around but just mobbed with other tourists. We had to wait in lines at several sites along with way.  If it was this bad in October, I'd hate to be here during the summer.   There was quite a bit of hilly walking involved and we noted several Americans complaining about it! 

The next stop was Cascais, an ocean-side town that was also touristy, though with pricey residential areas.  It so happened that our visit coincided with an Iron Man competition with participants from 28 countries.  So it was even more crowded, and our coach was limited in where it could go.   We paused to get lunch at an outdoor café where I was able to sample a variety of bachalhou, a Portuguese favorite; codfish which in this case was dripping in olive oil, garlic and onion.  Another favorite treat available everywhere is a pastry called pastel de nata, a pastry with a custard filling that's a nice mouthful any time of day.

On a trek of our own, we walked over to the Fado Museum.   Fado is a Portuguese musical

style that features guitars, especially a Portuguese variety, along with dramatic, emotional singing.   Sort of a Portuguese folk music.  We'd visited the Flamenco Museum in Seville and were impressed with the instrumentalists.  Both of them have working class or ghetto roots.  But Fado, along with the Museum, were underwhelming.  We had originally planned to seek out a performance but bagged it.

Since the Sintra tour had gone well, I found another that took us to Nazare and Obidos.  This was just an eight person van that included, coincidently, a older (than us) couple from the Chicago suburbs and another retired couple from the Washington suburbs.  Small world.   Our driver kept up a running commentary during the drive and the scenery was gorgeous.   Nazare is a beautiful old fishing village that has grown with the novelty of having some of the world's largest waves, attracting surfers and competitions.   These waves can reach the height of a ten-story building!   The town itself was charming, from what we could tell.   We suffered a too long lunch and didn't get the chance to explore, but we'd recommend it.  

The next stop on this tour was Obidos, an old castle that had been reinvented as a kind of market with a maze of walkways and overlooks.  It reminded me of a hilltop village in Granada overlooking the Alhambra.   Martha was not particularly impressed, but we enjoyed the signature liquor - Ginja - sold everywhere that was made from dark cherries and served in little chocolate cups. 

Walking in Lisbon is not for the faint of heart -- literally.  There's a lot of climbing steep hills.  We logged some 15,000 steps each day.   In one of those walks, we targeted a neighborhood market with a variety of foods; a sort of food court rather than market.  With this, and some other hikes, we discovered more attractive residential neighborhoods; quieter and more upscale.  If we'd known better, we might have chosen a hotel nearby.

In other explorations we visited the botanical garden in the University of Lisbon and a non-touristy church rooftop Martha discovered that offered beautiful views of the city.

A nightly ritual we came to appreciate was catching a drink on the patio of our hotel by a sometimes clueless staff.    Sometimes we found some restaurants nearby, like Orla, a fancy seafood place, where we found the tables uncomfortably close.  Other times we resorted to our practice of picking up nibbles and wine from nearby mercados to eat in our room; though we had to borrow a corkscrew from a local wine shop.   A pleasant difference we discovered is that Portuguese restaurants would offer us samples of different wines before selecting one.   I can't imagine American restaurants doing that.

Lisbon's architectural signatures are the decorative tiles that adorn most of the buildings.  And, of course, there is a Tile Museum.  To reach it, we tried public transportation; in this case their modern streetcars.   But we waited forever and finally resorted to an Uber.  The Tile Museum featured some very old examples as well as more modern interpretations, along with one of the most ornate churches I've ever seen.

In our final day we attempted public transportation again to visit the Belem Tower, an old building that guides sailors into Lisbon in the age of exploration.   After getting on the streetcar we couldn't figure out the payment machine.  But nobody seemed to care.  Whatever.   We bought a few souvenirs for the boys, wandered the waterfront and eventually hiked all the way back to our hotel and enjoyed a nice last dinner at a local bar with a young Irish bartender.

The departure was in the wee hours from Lisbon's confusing airport on British Airways through London Heathrow back to Dulles and then an Uber back to Richmond.   About 24 hours on the road.

All in all, we probably could have done Lisbon in fewer days if we'd had a better lay of the land.  But we were also tired.  The Wellow housesit was so relaxing and idyllic that turning our attention to being active tourists was tiring.  The lesson learned was to do more housesits but do them at the end of tourist segments.