I traveled to Bath on the train. It was a smooth ride. Ten times better than Amtrak. I could see the fall leaves coming in on the trees as they zoomed past. Sheep often populated the fields.
I arrived at around 5pm and wondered around a bit, looking for the bus that my Airbnb hosts said would take me to their house. I eventually found the bus station. It was right next to the train station. After hopping on to the number 6, it took me about thirty minutes to slowly travel to their neighborhood.
“The bus huffed and hawed, struggling to pull itself up the steep, thin streets. Behind me two British women were talking about Florida. One had recently retired there and was telling the other about the community and the warmth. I half listened to them as I peered at the passing houses, trying to spot the street names and hoping that I wasn’t going to miss my stop. I got off too early in the end. I had to walk the rest of the way through the darkening neighborhood.” –written in my journal after my arrival
I eventually found my Airbnb. I was staying with this retired couple in their house located just outside of Central Bath. The house was quaint and elegant. The hosts were nice and accommodating. I was very happy with my choice.
The hosts’ son and his pregnant wife were coming up from London to stay in the other guestroom that night, so the older couple stayed up late, waiting up for the younger couple’s train to get in. We chatted over a cup of tea in the meantime, talking about tourism, my hometown, and their trip to Italy.
I ended the night by watching TV on the small set in my room and planning my day tomorrow using the map I bought at the train station. I set my alarm on my dying phone (I had forgot my charger) and curled up on the soft bed and quickly fell asleep.