Dave Wood

Two weeks ago, I introduced Journal readers to the carefully guided European bus tour with mostly informative guides, its drawbacks and advantages. Today I describe what it was like to settle down for a few weeks in one place where we cooked our own meals, mingled with our neighbors and shopped markets, not curiosity shops.

When we realized we were tired of the daily treks and pre-planned schedules, Ruth ordered a catalog from Landmark Trust, a non-profit that promotes more intimate experiences of England’s rich history and culture, enabling tourists to rent restored buildings, notable for their former owners, who were members of the upper class, or buildings remarkable for their glorious architecture. As we paged through the catalog one place drew us both: “The Library,” which at one time held the personal library of a wealthy British family situated on its estate in the county of Devon. We were amazed that we could rent this place for a reasonable price. So we booked a flight to Heathrow, rented a car (Ruth, who often mixes up right and left) had little trouble adjusting to driving on the “wrong side of the road,” so we arrived without incident at the iron gates of the estate. When I opened them we discovered palm trees and 20 acres of terraced lawn, dropping off where a sheep herd grazed. The library itself was separated from an identical building behind it by a croquet court.

The library itself was furnished in 18^th century style (just worn enough to look authentic), a modern bathroom, an elegant “Great Room,” and a fully functional kitchen.

A friendly neighbor, who came over to chat as we sat on the terrace enjoying the bucolic view, informed us that the main house had been used to house Air Force fighters in WWII and later converted to a hog house, and then later torn down. Hence the survival and revival of just the “Library.” 

He advised a trip to the nearby town of Great Torrington, to shop, browse, have a nip and, if we were so inclined, attend a service at the nearby English church. We took all of his advice. We shared coffee and cookies with parishioners, one of which was mayor of Torrington, who heartily urged us to come to the Maypole Celebration in the town square where we enjoyed the dancing and a few pints as well; another was the Bellringers’ captain, who urged us to come to a bell-ringing practice on Wednesday.

So for a few weeks we felt like we lived both upstairs and downstairs as Downton Abbey residents. We liked it so much that we went back two more times, each with a different couple, and we never lacked for more wonders to discover in Southern England.

And a bonus for me: this venture led to my publishing an article in National Geographic Travel, which helped offset expenses.

Emboldened by this success, we decided to try a similar trip in a non-English-speaking country, and since Italy was our favorite, Ruth ordered a catalog listing rentals in Italy, not close to the frantic cities of Rome, Naples, or Florence. We agreed on a place called “Fattoria di Cerbaia” This “farm” was what remained of an 18^th century estate; most of the workers’ houses were unlivable. 

The Pelligrinis were there because she had inherited the property, and when his factory was destroyed by an earthquake, they had no other choice to make a livelihood, so, in spite of their aristocratic backgrounds, they worked to restore some of these houses, one by one, in order to add to their income.

The area was rustic and unfarmable, but they succeeded by means of great hospitality, beautiful refinishing of each house they restored, a very commodious swimming pool, whose fence was often surrounded by beautiful Alpine goats, and endless advice about how to make the best of the area. A bonus: because we were not British (which most of their clients were), who treat anyone running a business as “the help,” Pelligrinis were warmer to us, being unsnobbish Americans. That resulted in several meals shared in our house and their castle, and an occasional gift of Cati’s goat cheese.

We used our time to visit many of the beautiful hill towns in the area, such as San Gimignano, Siena, Perugia, Assisi; there were, in fact, so many wonderful sites in driving distance, that we returned to Cerbaia four times more, often accompanied by friends, who loved this arid, historic area as much as we did.

Now that we’re too old to undertake such adventures, we’re very glad we made these trips when we were young enough to do so and to store the memories for endless reminiscing!