O’er Vales and Hills

In mid-December, half of us took a trip to London for a family wedding and then Tarun and I drove through the English countryside with my niece and her husband. This drive was a bucket list item.

My parents lived in England for four years during my father’s medical training. I grew up with stories about their time in Wolverhampton, Lancing, Leicester, Worthing and Shoreham-by-Sea. I heard about how Ma worked in a photo shop and my parents lived with Mr. and Mrs. Hall. When Ma told me about the Lake District, there was a special twinkle in her eyes as if she was transported to her youth, to a time before kids put her on a mundane trajectory. It’s beeeeautiful and you must go there, she would say.

Naturally, when we were planning our trip, the Lake District was on top of my list. I was eager to see for myself what excited my mother so much.

Our first stop was Ambleside in the Cumbria region. William Wordsworth’s final home - Rydal Mount - is just outside Ambleside and he wrote many of his famous works here and in nearby Grasmere.

The name is derived from the Norse word "Á-mel-sǽtr" which means summer pasture. We drove into Ambleside at night and I could sense the charm clinging to the rainy night. In the morning when Tarun and I went for a walk, we were mesmerized by the beauty of the hills nestled in the low clouds, the moss resting on ancient rock walls and the architecture from centuries gone by.

Coffee shops, tearooms, fish and chips restaurants and adorable shops with woolens, Christmas knick-knacks, books, winter gear and outdoor things dotted the hilly and walkable roads. To take in the full extent of English hospitality, we stayed in a bed-and-breakfast inn and indulged with abandon in the delicious food that came with the room.

On day two, we did a three-hour tour through Grasmere, Coniston and Windermere which is named after the largest lake in the area.

The hilly roads were narrow, the sheep were unhurried, the homes offered a quiet presence in the meadows, the fog embraced the peaks of the hills and the valleys stood still in neon green splendor.

Was I in a Victorian novel, I wondered.

Grasmere was home to William Wordsworth prior to Ambleside. I can see how these idyllic spots would have encouraged the words to flow out of his pen! Grasmere is a quaint town full of tiny shops, a church possibly dating back to the 7th century and a crystal clear brook which provided a perfect backdrop for photos.

From Grasmere we drove past Rydal Water, a small and scenic lake, and then to Coniston at the base of a fell called “Old Man of Coniston”. Like many other Lake District towns, Coniston is known for hiking trails, art critic John Ruskin, water sportsman Donald Campbell and quaint shops. Delightful as Coniston was, Ambleside and Grasmere set higher bars on the cute quotient.

Windermere felt like a metropolis. With multiple roundabouts, rows of shops, all kinds of restaurants and a prolonged traffic jam, it definitely raised our anxiety level.

As I turned in for the night, I realized how right Ma was about the grandeur of the Lake District. In the stillness of the night, I silently told her about our visit and prayed she knows I was there.

On day three, we drove south to Stratford-upon-Avon. We made our way to the motorway through winding country roads dotted with rock walls, farms and sheep. A near collision with an RV as we entered the motorway jarred us from Lake District serenity into city frenzy.

Stratford-upon-Avon surprised me with its size. I was expecting a small village. It’s anything but. We went to a pub called Old Thatch Tavern. Built in 1470, it sits a few blocks from Shakespeare’s house. Being in a functioning building from 550 years ago, possibly sitting at the same table as Shakespeare and having a Sunday roast like he did contributed to a jaw-dropping, mind blowing afternoon!

The next morning we walked to Shakespeare’s house. A contemporary museum next door added a weird and incongruent vibe. I understand the need to leverage throngs of tourists but a boxy building, really?!

Standing in front of the famous house, Tarun and I had the same goofy thought: here lived the man who has terrorized generations of high schoolers with Julius Caesar, Hamlet and Macbeth!

On day four, we set off for the Cotswolds, home of the sheep that gives us cotswool.

Situated in southwest England, the rolling hills of Cotswold is dotted with adorable villages like in the Lake District. We drove through a few that are known for scenic charm: Stow-on-the-Wold, Bourton-on-the-Water and Burford. Ancient homes in the Cotswold offer a delightful, uniform look with the use of locally quarried sandstone of a warm honey tone. Bourton was remarkably charming! With narrow footbridges across the Windrush river, the town provided a glimpse of Cotswold life. It’s no wonder that the charm of the Cotswold and its proximity to London encourages celebrities like the Beckhams, Taylor Swift, Kate Winslet, Hugh Grant and more to call this region home.

We started this trip with a big, fat English-Indian-Greek wedding and ended it in the warm and affectionate embrace of family. We celebrated the happenings of 2025 and we cheered for what is in store for our brood in 2026. In the midst of the delightful visit, we ran into this little rickshaw in a restaurant. It reminded me of where we have come from to create a rich, eclectic and multicultural tapestry which we will continue to weave for generations to come.

Ma and Baba, thank you for telling us the stories that motivate us to retrace your path. The memories you’ve left us with are blessings that keep giving 🥂