Of the 180 days permitted on a US visa in the UK, I’ve got twenty one left. The town of Bath is known for its first century Roman hot springs. I’ve had a lingering cold, and heat sounds healing. I book a last-minute apartment on the recommendation, “This will be memorable.” Only a ninety minute train ride from London, Bath Spa train station is a work of art engineering by the master, Brunel. A small information booth greets visitors and I pick up a city map.

Outside looking in – apartment (third floor)

My window view

It’s a Sign

A pleasing ten-minute stroll lands me at my destination on Pulteney Bridge; when I reach the rental’s entrance, the adjacent boutique’s sign reads: FOUND. The apartment is wildly beyond expectations with an astounding view overlooking River Avon and within walking distance to…everywhere! After a brief walkabout, I make way to a grocery store and return “home”.

Hallelujah! After two weeks of feeling sniffly and fatigued, I awake with enough energy for an easy jog through Henrietta Park, Sydney Pleasure Gardens and along the Avon Canal. Through the park, yellow and orange leaves drift like snowflakes, and I crunch playfully on those already fallen. In the Gardens, an ornate cast-iron footbridge leads to the canal where houseboats dock against the banks — some with landscaped decks, some with laundry airing, another with the enticing aroma of breakfast bacon swirling in the autumn air (so unfair whilst jogging).

Bath Stone in Crescent

Water Under the Bridge

Bath Abbey, 1499

The town bustles with locals and tourists, yet I float through town with an element of calm curiosity.

Reflective morning beauty through my open windows

There’s something magical about this place — ancient Roman ruins whisper soft secrets. Bath Stone emanates lustrous golden hues. Georgian terraces, crescents and squares visually harmonize architecture and landscape. Bath is the only entire city in Britain to receive World Heritage Site status due to its architectural history and “picturesque aestheticism”. It’s complexing to put into words…

I extend my stay, wondering what it would be like to live here. Lynn the upstairs neighbor asks, “Wouldn’t you miss your family and friends?” A pause before responding. “We’d visit!”  “Wouldn’t you feel alone?” I look her in the eyes and answer with gesture, “I like traveling solo, and…I’m not alone,” crossing both hands on my heart. She doesn’t get it. Her expression transports me to a memory and a comment my brother once made: It’s four in the morning at the 2013 Albuquerque Balloon Festival. Ronnie asks me in reference to our siblings, “Why are you so different?”  I declare, “Probably Sex and Drugs and Rock n Roll.”  But now I wonder…it may be more evolutional than that. I’m not…domesticated.

For a population of less than 100,000, Bath has a surprising number of musical venues and theatres. An alternative scene, Chapel Arts Centre, is hosting R&B soul duo from Austin living in Germany, James and Black. I arrive late and of the twenty or so four-top tables and chairs set up, only one in the back corner is available. I flop my bag down and start groovin’ in place to their music. VIDEOS: James and Black  James and Black Bruce James reminds me of Dr. John and Bella Black of Nina Simone — he’s got jive, she, a subtle anger. After a few songs, Jan the club manager steps behind me to ask, “Will you come with me to the front of the stage and dance? We gotta get these people up and out of their seats!” The next song, she makes her move and I follow. We shake our booty but no one joins in. She surrenders; I stay another song before returning to my stance in the back. During the encore, the centre’s director Philip and I bop about, then I take leave with a skip in my step, feeling the healing of good live music.

Ustinov Theatre

Theatre Royal

Night Lights

Florian Zeller’s play, “The Height of the Storm”, is running at the Theatre Royal for two more nights before making its way to London’s West End. An advantage of solo travel: a fine box seat for one is available for tonight’s performance. Starring Jonathan Pryce and Eileen Atkins, the cast of six hold their audience transfixed in silence, throughout this emotional mystery. A disadvantage of solo travel: no one to share present thoughts and observations. I decide that the next night, closing night, I’m going to stand outside when the play lets out, and stalk someone to talk with.

It’s Saturday market  at Green Park. I go for a few tomatoes, return with bundles, and more importantly, having had interesting conversations with vendors. Paul, an expat American selling homemade salsa, worked as a hairdresser in Dallas Fort-Worth, “where there’s authentic Mexican food” before moving to Bath, “void of real Mexican food”. How did he get here? “Things happen when you’re open to meetings, networking, and timing.” Angus sells Wolf wines by the bottle and vat. Recycle your bottles with refills from the vat. Less waste, less cost to consumer. He and I discuss their branding before Christian enters. The conversation leads me to direct a question to them that’s been on my mind. “What’s up with no electrical outlets in UK bathrooms? I understand their absence in historic buildings, but in new construction?” They look at each other, roll their eyes, and answer by gesticulation – plugging their fingers into a socket. “You don’t have outlets because of the fear of electrocution?!” Seems a bit overkill to me. Evidently, electrical safety is taken seriously in the UK. “Bath’s abundance of musical and theatrical offerings is serious,” I note and mention “The Height of the Storm”. Christian lights up, “I saw the play last week!” Avidly, we share our thoughts and observations — no need to be a stalker tonight.

My time in Bath defies description (now at deadline). More than an experience, it leaves…an impression. You remember when Mary Poppins, Bert, Jane, and Michael jump into a chalk drawing and with a poof of color, they’re in it? Well, it’s kind of like that.

Herschel Astronomy Museum –
Cassiopeia, 6000 light-years away