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I meet up with girls outside and give them my cheeriest smile. “They said it usually takes 24 hours to locate baggage, so I’ll bet I have it in the morning.” I’m not sure my optimistic forecast is believable or realistic, but the girls go along like true friends, and we hop in a cab to our vacation rental.
I must doze off on the drive, because I wake up when I sense the cab has slowed down. We’ve arrived in Odiham, a small village in the county of Hampshire, outside of London. The village looks like something out of a fairytale. All of the buildings are centuries old and have historical markers in front for the tourists who visit this quaint town. The town is small, with just a single café, a doctor’s office, some pubs, and a grocery store about the size of a gas station on the high street. The little town also has a gothic church constructed in the 13th century and an old graveyard tourists like to meander through. Odiham is just an hour drive from London, but it feels like you’re stepping back in time.
The cab pulls into the driveway of an adorable two-story brick house. This house also has a plaque on it, but it’s so old the engraving has been worn away by weather and time. The house is so cute and quaint, better than the pictures. It’s been owned by the same family for generations, and the current owner rents out rooms on a vacation rental website. There are four bedrooms, so each of us has our own private space, and the host told us it’s very unlikely the fourth bedroom would be rented out to another girl. It’s not a big deal if it is, though. We’re a friendly bunch.
We’ve been planning this trip for two yearsI’ve never done anything like it and the thought seems exciting—very European. Seeing the home makes me excited. I refuse to let a few setbacks ruin this trip for me. I’ll get new clothes; I brought plenty of money. I’ve been saving up for two years for this experience and I plan to embrace all of it.
We walk inside and I take in every detail of the house. The first room is the sitting room. There are two small couches in front of a fireplace. Behind the sitting room is a sweet little kitchen, with a large dining table and a lovely window seat looking out onto the garden. Instantly I imagine myself getting lost in a book, sitting by the window.
I walk up the narrow staircase and hear Deb and Lillian opening doors to bedrooms, claiming their beds already. The second floor is decorated with floral wallpaper, and at the end of the long hallway is tall window. I look out over Odiham and I can see the spire of the church in the distance. We’ve been planning this trip for two years and it’s hard to believe I’m finally here. I’ve never been anywhere before.
I walk back downstairs to find the other bedrooms. The sitting room is so cozy it practically calls to me to sit down, put my feet up, and fall asleep for the rest of the day. As inviting as that is, I know from my research that if I sit down now, I’ll just make this jet lag worse and I’ll be awake all night. I don’t want that. My body feels dirty and stiff, so I yell upstairs to the girls that I’m going to shower.
I open a door beyond the kitchen, and I find another bedroom. I toss my lonely bag on the bed and open the connecting door to the bathroom. There’s a pile of fluffy towels aside the shower and fresh robes hanging behind the bathroom door. When I turn on the hot water in the shower, I spy several bottles of fancy shampoo and bodywash. When the bathroom is filled with steam, I step onto the cold tiles and let the warm water flow over me. The bathroom fills up with the rich scents of the gardenia body wash, and I feel every muscle in my body loosening. All the tension from the flight and anxiety about traveling so far for the very first time in my life melts away. If this bathroom is any indication of the attention to detail we’ll find in this house, it’s going to be an awesome visit.
I stay too long in the shower, practically falling asleep and also dreading trying to figure out whatever I’ll wear, but finally the lure of a hot cup of tea forces me to turn off the shower and slip into the bathrobe. No need to worry about clothes just yet, since it’s just me and girls.
When I step into the bedroom, I realize that the house is freezing. The robe I’m wearing barely keeps me warm, and these old homes don’t have the best insulation. The glass in the single paned windows look as brittle as pulled sugar, and the gaps in the old windows carry a steady draught through the room. At least my room has its own fireplace and a small stash of wood. I’m looking forward to that. Obviously I’m not going to spend a lot of time in my bedroom, but I can’t help but fantasize about reading my book next to the fire before bed with a hot mug of cocoa. And the bed is so luxuriously made, with a thick white duvet that looks like heaven.
