Lady’s Guide to Rye, England

England has no shortage of story-book towns. From the impossibly picturesque villages of the Cotswolds to the quaint towns of the Lake District, most of the highlights are on the well-beaten tourist trail. But there’s one place in the country that has all of the charm and beauty of the others, but has somehow managed to escape their crowds. It’s Rye, and it is England’s best-kept secret.

It must be, anyway, if nobody but the locals knows about it. Despite it being in East Sussex, only an hour-and-a-half from the capital, friends of mine that were born and raised in London had never heard of it.

There are no tour buses, no souvenir shops, and the only people you’ll see there are locals. And ghosts (more on them later).

Rye was one of my first day trips from London. It was the middle of winter, and I assumed the weather was the only thing keeping people away from the beautiful Tudor-style architecture, pretty cobbled streets, and stone churches and castles.

But last week I returned to Rye with six friends to spend the weekend at one of their parents’ houses. The house was right in the middle of the historic town center, and provided the perfect place from which to explore.

For two days we walked around the area discovering the best things to do in Rye. We were the only non-locals we saw.

The first thing that struck us was the town’s beauty. The architecture and gardens made Rye one of the most enchanting towns I’ve seen in a long time.

Houses with names like Lantern Cottage, streets called Rope Walk and Watchbell, and pastry shops like Simon the Pieman rounded out the town’s charming ambiance.

Every time I turned a corner, I half expected to run into Rumpelstiltskin or Hansel and Gretel.

Speaking of fiction, we visited Lamb House, where American expat writer Henry James lived. Its beautiful garden basked in the summer sun and made us want to stay all day.

But there was more of the town to see. We walked down the famous Mermaid Street, which was perhaps the most story-book street in Rye.

Along the way, we had Pimm’s at the Mermaid Inn, a beautiful (and haunted!) historic hotel that was rebuilt in 1420.

We also had dinner at The Ship Inn, a pub down the hill with a beautiful interior.

But our culinary exploration of Rye didn’t stop there. The town was so full of bakeries, butchers, wine shops, and other purveyors of things we liked to eat and drink that we hopped from shop to shop, buying ingredients for meals to cook at home.

We even did our own version of afternoon tea looking out onto my friend’s beautiful garden.

With all of the eating we did in Rye, we needed to get a bit of exercise. One day we took a long walk out to Camber Castle, a fortification built for Henry VIII.

In its heyday, it was located right on the coast. But after the water receded, it was left sitting in the middle of sheep pastures.

I didn’t mind, what with my love of sheep and all. Walking to the castle was like wandering through wool heaven; I think I photographed every lamb I laid eyes on.

Further afield, the beach beckoned. Into the car we hopped, and out to the coast we headed to get to Camber Sands.

It was a windy afternoon, and the kiteboarders were out in droves. The sky was pretty as the small sails punctuated its blue-grey canvas with bright swathes of color.

Back in Rye, we packed up our things, got ready to leave, and came up with every excuse to extend our trip. But in the end we traveled home to London.

That’s not to say we won’t find an excuse to go back to Rye soon. If we don’t, the town might not get any visitors. Not that that’s a bad thing…

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