A brief logistical update for those who have not been reading every post religiously (unacceptable): I am in the UK, specifically in Ware, through the end of this week and then I continue on to a little village outside of Oxford where I will continue to delight in public transport and join yet another gym and continue to appall the Brits with my directness.
Complete street illiteracy
I’m not currently driving in the UK, but if I had to I honestly don’t know if I could (or how long it would take me to adjust). Even when pedestrian-ing I have no idea where to look to avoid being hit by a car and wherever I instinctively look is always the wrong direction so now I just look everywhere, tag along when someone else is already crossing or (as much as it pains me) actually wait for the crossing light. A multi-way intersection is my greatest cognitive obstacle right now, which is very funny (and humbling). I also do not know if I should be walking toward oncoming people on the right or on the left. It all feels insane in the mundane.
Everything is a shire
Having not really spent any meaningful amount of time in the UK previous to now, the frequent use of “shire” comes off as extremely quaint but it just means a geographic area that contains the place before the shire part, as in Hertford is within Hertfordshire. The shire part refers to an administrative area, like a county, as far as I can tell. I might be absolutely botching that explanation but that’s where I am in my own understanding/googling at this point in time. Regardless of accuracy, it’s fun to play Google Maps and see a zillion shires.
Important body updates
“Dear Valeria, Your American dog tick was negative for all pathogens on our panel including Lyme, Bartonella, Rocky Mtn. spotted fever & Tularemia.” Hell yes. My tick goes to yoga; your tick: fruit rollup. Virtual high five if you knew that reference before I linked it.
I bought some actual hair conditioner in an attempt to abandon my (heavily diluted) apple-cider-vinegar-as-conditioner ritual because as much as I like the simplicity I think it’s drying my hair out. Turns out there’s some fine tuning to be done when you move from full hippie to normal person in the conditioner department. I got a volumizing conditioner because I thought I would like the scent better than the other one that was available and I could either pay for shipping or throw this conditioner in the cart and it turns out I like the scent just fine but that my hair cannot handle more volume (I look like I’m wearing a stage wig and my hair has tangles for the first time in decades). We (my hair and I) are turning the volume down as I have just ordered another (moisturizing) conditioner based on my enjoyment of the corresponding shampoo in Barcelona earlier this year. I haven’t used real conditioner in years but my hair is feeling like maybe it needs some? Can anyone counsel me on this aesthetic journey that most people took when they were twelve?
Nasturtiums in the lawn
Noticing small treasures is the absolute spice of life for me, so you can imagine my delight when I saw a few nasturtium seedlings come up in the lawn of my cat sit. I dug them out and planted them in the garden (with permission, relax) and as you’ll see in the photos, my feline companion Oscar provided his careful oversight. He’s also obsessed with the trail the water makes when it comes out of the watering can spout so we’ve turned that info a fun game (laser pointer/string hybrid but with water trail). These kinds of discoveries (the weird things that pets are entranced by) are fascinating to me.
Since the initial nasturtium finding a few more have sprung up and I can’t say it’s been equally magical (thanks hedonic adaptation), but still enjoyable. I’ve potted the newly found ones in an unused planter and while I won’t be around (in the area; I plan to still be alive) to see them trailing over the sides, it’s still fun to do.
Tour du Grocery continues
More recent discoveries, in no particular order:
• The British love coleslaw (as do I, because my body is 50% cabbage by birth) and there are a million kinds of pre-made coleslaw at the store. I’ve noticed many have onion, which is not ok, but overall I find this interesting. Eventually I will try one if I can find an onion-free option.
• There’s a(n apparently very popular) condiment called salad cream, which I haven’t tried and most likely won’t unless it’s already in somebody’s fridge, but it’s fun to know about regardless. You can use it instead of part or all of the mayo in… coleslaw.
• It feels like I’m learning this a little late in life but the reason UK eggs are not refrigerated is because they are not washed and thus retain a natural exterior coating called a cuticle that keeps out bacteria. The washing process that US eggs undergo removes this layer so they have to be refrigerated to keep bacteria at bay. The more you know. 🌈🌟🐣
• I’ve seen elderflowers and elderberries growing everywhere and at one point I started to wonder why no one was eating them wild in nature so before inadvertently poisoning myself I googled it. Apparently raw berries “contain poisonous cyanide-producing substances that can cause nausea, vomiting, and severe diarrhea.” Yikes. Thankfully cooking the berries resolves this issue.
Heavy food hitters right now
• Potatoes continue to wow, both sweet and baby yellow. I’ve said this before about potatoes across the pond: they’re just so much more tender and flavorful than US potatoes.
• Skyr and quark are the keys to great snacking because they keep your gluttonous ass full. Very important. Skyr picks so far: Arla vanilla and natural; need to find/try the sour cherry. Quark find yesterday: Graham’s mango-papaya, very filling. Peach and raspberry also on the docket.
• I love a low-sugar jam and anything with black currant. Currently shacked up with Fearne & Rosie’s superberry and will scoop the blackcurrant when I come across it. Also this part is a little stupid but the lid is very cute and is made to resemble a strawberry and that gives me (additional) joy.
• In a world… where the sausage aisle is dominated by pork sausages… there is hope: I still don’t know what a chipolata is but I’ve tried the Heck chicken Italia, want to try the spring chicken and have the simply chicken sitting in the fridge right now.
• If you know me you know I cannot survive without brick bread. I ordered Biona sourdough rye bread in (relative) bulk to fuel my UK time.
• I know that nothing will compare to Valrhona 85% Abinao (yes I am selectively bougie), but that shit is eleventy billion euro pounds an ounce right now and I need chocolate. Montezuma’s (not revenge) has some fun flavors: I devoured the Black Forest, and just ordered the Sea Dog (dark choc sea salt & lime), Spice it Up (dark choc ginger) and the Happy Hippy (dark choc with orange & geranium) to try.
ps tasting verdicts: Happy Hippy winner, Spice it Up ok but Green & Black’s ginger is more ginger-y (although perhaps less chocolate-y), Sea Dog too subtle/not punchy enough.
• Still on the elderberry cordial train but also need to locate the Belvoir Farm apple blackcurrant asap!
Why am I home-cooking while “traveling?”
Bruh I cook everywhere (you know that). It is the cornerstone of health! I truly don’t understand the culture of eating out. The food quality is worse, the setting is not as relaxed, you have to wait so long to eat (this is the real abomination), there are other people there and you can’t select them, it’s bad for you, it’s much more expensive for objectively a worse product, you have no idea what goes on in restaurant kitchens and generally do not want to know, etc. etc. etc. I could go on but I won’t. It’s fun to go out occasionally for something I truly can’t make at home but I’ll only do it for a craving or out of logistical or social necessity.
I’m also not really traveling—I’m just living my regular life in different places and following the weather and my location whims and learning things about my needs and preferences along the way.
Life Vignettes
Pets for pets
I was next to the gym (where else?) and a middle-aged lady walking a greyhound-ish dog passed me and the dog looked at me like it wanted to be pet so I asked her if I could and the dog was so soft it blew my mind completely apart. At the end of our brief pet sesh the lady said she was dog-sitting for a friend and thanked me for stopping to pet the dog. I thought it was very cute and that the thanks should probably be going in the other direction but I think this is just an example of British politeness. Sometimes it’s charming.
“Every word’s a real word”
While I have become intimately familiar with the bus station, I still like to ask the driver if they go to my spot just to confirm, and so I asked this surprisingly young bus driver if he was going to stop at Wengeo (I pronounced it When-ghee-oh) Lane and he looked at me like “What?” and we both went back and forth trying to understand each other (while both speaking “English;” hilarious) and that’s how I learned that Wengeo is pronounced “When-djo.” Because I have no manners I said, “Come on is that even a real word?” and he said, “Every word’s a real word,” and then we both laughed and I added, “Now that’s a quotable.” And here it has been quoted. Adding to the confusion, there’s a part of Hertford called Bengeo (and lord help me if it’s not pronounced “Ben-djo”).
Dry bags, sausages, satsumas
Another time I was walking back from the gym (where else?) because there’s this nature path along the river between Ware and Hertford (I stay in Ware and get swole/regulated in Hertford, pronounced Hartford for some unknowable reason) and it was Sunday so I forgot that the grocery store was going to closed by the time I got done with so I couldn’t get a snack, and then I took the path I had been curious about instead of the path I had been taking thus far, and then I had a WhatsApp call with my next cat sit and then I was starving and then realized I had missed a turn BUT there were two stylishly dressed ladies oncoming so I confirmed with them that I was en route to the Wild Swim Spot (which dead ends) instead of on the path to Ware and then I asked them if I should turn back and take the path I already knew or try to complete the path I wanted to get to know and that I had forgotten the grocery would be closed and could not snack myself and that I was so hungry and then they saw my desperation and raised me two clementines (they called them satsumas), the directions to the correct path and (at my request while I had them) a bunch of things to do in the area. They told me about how their their dry bags had contained sausages and all kinds of other snacks but they had already eaten everything because their move was to put in at a certain swimming spot (which they showed me) and float down to the getting-out spot near where I encountered them and have a picnic (presumably as they dried off). Nothing gives me a bigger life boner than running into people who would do something I would do, and when this happens I take their recommendations very seriously: Hitchin Lavender Farm, Hatfield House Park and Gardens, Royston Cave, Henry Moore Studios & Gardens and St Albans (where I obviously investigated the green spaces offerings). In case you were wondering, I did end up following the new (to me) path back to Ware successfully.
Dog swimming
I would also like to add that right as I was taking my wrong turn I saw an older women gleefully swimming in the river with her black lab. She was doing the breast stroke and the dog was doing (obviously) the doggy paddle. They were both so happy to be there; pure joy.
I really want to know who else (in the world) is pet sitting
Trusted Housesitters does have a forum and one of the topics is meetups with fellow pet sitters but I just want to know somehow when I’m out in the wild who else is doing what I’m doing. Like a secret pet-sitting emblem or pin or purse dongle or something. Too much to ask?
A brief jaunt to London
I’ve actually never been to London so the other day I went for the afternoon, but mostly to visit with my friend who is staying in Hackney and who is the inspiration for my where-are-you-now travel spreadsheet (Glennayyyyy!). I spent a few aimless hours exploring the city center before meeting up with Glen in the more charming Hackney and I while I really just dipped a toe, the city vibe was not for me. London gets compared to New York a lot but I just didn’t see it. To be fair, I only walked through the financial district (sharply dressed men with dead eyes), across London Bridge (river surprisingly gross), underground-ed to Hyde Park (one of the most uninspired city parks I’ve ever seen; sorry) and gave Notting Hill (meh) a sniff, so it’s not like I saw it all but vibes across the board were unfavorable. I was particularly shocked by what the Thames looks like and by how underdeveloped the area is along the river—it didn’t feel like a city and you couldn’t walk alongside the river at river level right in the city center; I found that odd and turn-offing. Summary: I guess there’s a reason I have avoided London all these travel years and I am not itching to return. Maybe I also hate cities now as I slowly ooze into my gentleman farmer era. Who can say? After I extracted myself from the city center, Glen gave me a lovely tour of Hackney (Brooklyn-esque, maybe Park Slope) and I was surprised by how quiet and clean it was relative to how similar areas would be/are in the US. (To be fair I was surprised by London’s cleanliness too.) In Hackney there were lots of fun shops and eclectic restaurants and pubs and canals but it was just fun to pass through.
Canal culture
I have so many unanswered (and unasked, lol) questions about all the houseboats along the canals/rivers here. I wasn’t even aware that houseboats were a thing here. I believe I recently called it “Baby Amsterdam” because that’s my only previous point of reference. Anyway, this topic may be addressed in a future post if I learn anything about what the deal is. Who owns these boats? Is this full-time boat living or just a seasonal thing? Are the boats mostly parked or do they travel around? What are the parking regulations? Is there a boat police? You know, the important journalistic explorations that I offer.
I’ve written enough; tell me of your news back across the pond. Now that it’s 2025 and we have digital communication, you don’t even have to put a note into a glass bottle or onto a merchant ship and hope it finds its way to me. Is anyone enjoying my writings or am I just enjoying writing them? Does it matter? Big questions. Ok, photos:
I hope you’ll eventually get to pet-sit on a houseboat and fill us in!