Haworth, UK: The heart of Brontë country
When the Brontë sisters were holed up in their proverbial garrett (Papa Brontë's parsonage), scratching away at stories that would change the face of English literature, Haworth was a foul dot on the map with bad water and rampant TB. (None of the Brontë siblings lived past their thirties.)
The hamlet that Jane Eyre scribe Charlotte dismissed as "a strange uncivilized little place" draws visitors curious about the Brontë legacy, and despite literary tourism, has retained a sort of crotchety village charm.
The parsonage (now the Brontë Parsonage Museum) still grimly attends the church cemetery, with its tombstones worn to near illegibility. Within the house, you can peer into the girls' bedrooms and take in plenty of preserved (but happily not too polished) Brontëana.
Haworth's main street is a weaving cobblestone thing lined with places to browse old books, take tea, and watch cats nap in windows. Bed down at Weavers, a hotel-restaurant with exactly three rooms, prize-winning black pudding breakfasts, and reported sightings of Emily Brontë's ghost every December 19.
And moors! Moors galore. Kit out with wellies for the trek to Top Withens, the ruin that allegedly inspired the manse in Wuthering Heights. [Toronto Star]