the latte letters: a UK tour
on edinburgh, bristol, bath, and london
My dearest friend,
Perspective is everything.
I was reminded of this at my old roommate’s new apartment in Edinburgh, where four of us sat at the kitchen table following a lively pub quiz. Lily and her boyfriend, Mark, ate eggs and toast as a midnight snack while Peter, new roommate and Mark’s old friend, grinned in the glow of his phone screen. He was about to make himself the emcee of an impromptu after-quiz quiz.
“Alright, folks. Name five of Lonely Planet’s must-see Irish destinations,” he asks us.
We started guessing at once. The Guinness Storehouse was mentioned first, of course.
“Yep, that’s one. Next.”
“The Hill of Tara,” I said.
Peter nodded. “Yep, next.”
Mark scoffed. “Can’t believe so many people go and see that.”
With unexpected fervor, I rushed to the Hill of Tara’s defense.
“What? It’s awesome! You can walk around the grass barefoot, thinking about ancient kings and pagan history-”
“Okay, yes,” Mark conceded with a smile. “If you bring your own experience to it, I’m sure it could be fun.”
His phrasing threw me. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d handcrafted my own Hill of Tara experience, and I’d never considered travel in that light before: bringing an experience to a place. Loving a trip not because of what was there, but because of what you made of it.
So much of travel relies on concepts alone. We visit places based on ideas that appeal to us so strongly, we have to live them for ourselves. Not just the dreamy imagery of cities like Paris, New York, and LA that we’re inundated with—why do people go and see sites like Loch Ness? The same way the Hill of Tara may be just a field, Loch Ness is just a big lake. (I went to see that, too.)
Nature sites in general are easy to flatten into meaninglessness. I’ve met people who say going to the Grand Canyon is unnecessary; chalking it up to being nothing more than a glorified hole in the ground. “You stand there, look, and then you leave. What’s the point?”
Places like this require a specific lens. Big, bustling cities with endless events and attractions don’t call for the attentive, eagerly beholding eyes you’d lend to a silent landscape. Every location has something to offer, but some of them need a certain mindset to be fully loved.
The UK cities that Lily and I planned to see on our trip were all easy to love: they’re historic, scenic, and cherished by tourists. That, and Lily and I travel similarly. We prioritize walking long distances, trying local foods, and bookshop lurking. We make plans ahead of time, but always leave room to ‘wing it’ to see the things we didn’t know about beforehand.
With Mark’s words in mind, I wondered if our laid-back approach would unite the two sides of this newfound dichotomy: bringing fun to a destination, or receiving it from one.
Edinburgh was our first stop on our UK jaunt. During my first visit, I stayed in a beachy neighborhood and mostly stuck to the Old Town. This time, I wanted to see the city through Lily’s eyes as a newly minted local. We opted to visit cafés close by to her flat, buy groceries from her corner store, and take her regular routes. One of these, a path lined by fresh cherry blossoms stretching east, quickly became a destination of its own through how enchanting it was.
Attractions like Mary King’s Close and the Edinburgh Castle had us indulge in the city’s beauty and history, but most of the fun we had, we made ourselves. We talked for hours in quality coffee shops like Project Coffee, Fortitude, and Modern Standard. We had an incredible dinner only two minutes walking from her place. Edinburgh became one of my favorite cities, all because she informed my perception of it.
Landing a few days later in Bristol, fun greeted us in the form of a bright Saturday morning. The English sun illuminated stroller-pushing families, clusters of students sipping beer, ‘Super Whippy’ trucks doling out soft-serve ice cream to growing lines, and market stalls offering vintage treasures to passersby like us.
The city is colored head-to-toe in graffiti, visibly proud to be Banksy’s hometown. This ubiquity of art demands any newcomer’s attention; recognizable pieces draw crowds.
We were quickly overwhelmed with variety. Lily and I stopped for a moment to watch bungee jumpers dangle above the Avon River from the neck of a crane, just one exciting view in the midst of live music, passing boats, and rows of enticing outdoor restaurants.
I thought of Mark’s words again when Lily noted how big of a difference the weather made on our perception of the place. Would we have enjoyed a rainy Bristol with no outdoor markets or sunbathers?
Bath, only ten minutes away by train, offered us an entirely different atmosphere the next day. Its grand Victorian architecture was enchanting enough for me to pick Earl Grey over coffee. A bun from Sally Lunn’s Tea Shop fueled our Roman Spa tour, and Bath Abbey’s sky-high ceilings and glimmering stained-glass were well worth marveling at. Since we were there on a Sunday, we got to hear the Abbey’s bells chime joyously through our morning.
As wonderful as the tea was, I had to try the coffee too—these are the latte letters, after all. Colonna & Small’s Specialty Coffee and Society Café were just as unique as they were impressive. The ‘specialty’ title of the former is no joke—I’ve never seen a place advertise espresso beans launches on posters before.
Not only were the interiors comfortingly beautiful, but the barista I ordered from offered me three different kinds of espresso to choose from, carefully describing the intricate, fruity notes of each blend and the farms they were all sourced from. I repeat: this place isn’t messing around.
The latter, a specialty English coffee chain, amazed me not only with a perfectly crafted latte, but by offering its own newspaper. It was filled with barista interviews, art, and even poetry—I simply had to take a copy back with me.
Some destinations need multiple days to fully appreciate; London requires lifetimes. During our two-day stay in Notting Hill, we visited two huge museums, caught an interactive production of Guys and Dolls in the West End, found a charcuterie conveyor belt restaurant called Pick and Cheese in Camden (need I say more), and spent a glorious afternoon tea at Fortnum & Mason (proud inventors of the Scotch Egg). Despite all this enjoyment, we covered only part of our initial list of things to do—it’s the London guarantee.
On our last morning, we walked half an hour between buns from home and Amoret, my favorite pastry and favorite latte in London paired together. I’d loved buns from home already, but Amoret was Lily’s choice. It was a winning combination; a new experience informed by an old one.
Until now, I couldn’t place where cafés landed on this sliding scale of give and take. The coffee shops I listed above all have incredibly distinct and enticing atmospheres. Places with knowledgeable baristas, top-notch beans, and welcoming interiors can bring guests into a one-of-a-kind world. However, visitors tend to bring their own experiences to them: working on our laptops, reading books, catching up with old friends.
Since returning, I’ve come to the conclusion that coffee shops lie somewhere in the middle of the scale. They’re fun and cozy environments that we bring our own fun to. A great café brings our everyday lives into an aesthetic, indulgent vacation away from them. They’re an escape that meet us in the middle.
In truth, most travel probably lies towards the middle of the scale. I noticed that some of the best moments Lily and I shared weren’t destinations at all, but the journeys in between them: walking along the Avon River discussing our futures; hiking up grueling hills to reach our Bath bed and breakfast while cheering each other on, and giggling through Tube stations, speed-walking to make our West End show on time.
Even in the many, many coffee shops we visited, Lily and I used them as a backdrop for our conversations. The setting was always secondary.
In retrospect, our perspectives always came first.
Until I write you again,
Constanze
My mother (born in 1925 in Eastern NC) used to make Sally Lunn Bread. It was semi-spongy and not sweet. We all loved it. Never knew where it came from until …….today!