Escape to the country

Without being dramatic, my heart and soul are doing jumping jacks... I'm headed to the country!!!

I've always found it interesting the way city folk describe leaving the city. In New York, "going out east" meant I was taking a jam packed LIRR out to Montauk, while "heading to the country" meant I was going glamping upstate. Sometimes, if I'm honest, it just meant I was going to Westchester. "Ah, the air is so much cleaner up here," I'd marvel, grateful for the opportunity to stick my arm out the window without fear of dismemberment from a passing taxi. Life's simple pleasures.

This weekend, two tubes, a train and a car ride later I'll be in what I can only describe as a lush estate. There's even signs of sunshine!!

We rented a gorgeous Victorian cottage located in a conservation area of the Hambleton Valley. Our village, Fingest, is tiny with maybe 10 cottages cluttered around a 12th century church. In true British form, the only other establishment aside from the church is a pub aka "Public House." There was also this operational red phone booth in case anyone shold want to contact the outside world (no one has, or really needs, cell service in Fingest). 

As you can see above, the back of the home - through some ingenious device known as bifolding doors - opens up to the exapnsive English countryside. Time drifted by as we just sat and stared at sheep, horses and vast green expanse. I went to sleep to the sounds of silence, with occasional chirpings from what I can only presume was a chipmunk, or a bird, or a creature unknown. This was a welcome change of pace from the night before, when I went to sleep to the sounds of a rave outside my window and lots of sirens (see: Friday nights in Shoreditch).

I feel so well rested!!

Next stop: IBIZA!