Though lavender would have been the easy, obvious, and lovely choice, the come from behind victor of the July flower of the month is the Hydrangea.
Again via some sort of unwritten, unspoken code all yards in England sport at least one Hydrangea bush (lavender too by the way).
They are all stunning, with a wide variety of colors and sizes.
There is one white Hydrangea bush right outside my front gate, which symbolically has always served to remind me where I live. Hush, hush, but I have taken to routinely cutting one of its beautiful blooms for the bathroom.
More than once while walking around the hood I have stopped in my tracks to OMG at the larger than my head white blooms, or admire the antique pinks, the delicate detail, or simply the entire yards full of these stunners.
Well done. (And yes, I did just use OMG as a verb).
I decided to chase the sun on the cheapest last minute (like three days before) weekend getaway I could find somewhere warm, sunny, with water nearby. Apparently Elche, Spain, not far from the Alicante airport and the Costa Blanco, was part of my destiny.
The resort I found, situated within the largest reserve of palm trees in Europe, Huerto del Cura, had little cabana type rooms, a turquoise blue pool that wound through the candle lit lounge, and a gourmet grade restaurant with quite possibly the best Rioja I have ever had. Oh, and weddings.
Day one we (a girlfriend of mine came along) decided that being so close to the coast and a little island 'Tabarca' we should make the trip and see the scene. Upon arrival, I'll be honest, it was simply a local town and beach, mostly populated by the locals and their families. Not jaw-dropping like Lagos, so the boat ride to the island was a good idea.
Although somewhat consciously forgetting the sunblock did result in a bit of a serious burn, just being on a boat on the ocean in the heat was worth the cost of the trip. The small, arid island provided an organized beach area, but of course my preference was to wonder off the beaten path and find a less populated spot, even though it provided a bit of a rocky, seaweedy adventure to and from the refreshing water.
After the beachtime, our thirst and hunger persuaded us to land at one of the restaurants. I just had to order the 'pescado frito', translated as fried fish ... heads included ... pretty big ones too!
That evening we headed back to wonder town, eat some gelato, catch some local breakdancers in the plaza, do some shopping at Mango, and then back to the hotel to shower up for dinner.
I had been looking forward to this dinner after reading their menu and approach online and it didn't let me down. The starter salad of artichokes, sun-dried tomato, garlic, and salted cod was eye-rolling good and their approach to paella was unlike anything I had experienced before. They layered the rice, etc. in the humongous pan and broiled it until it was caramelly brown, providing a wonderful smoky, gooey, moist sauce with the rice and seafood. Yum!!! I don't think I left a grain of rice on the plate.
Goal of day two was to walk the palm tree reserve and secure a pool spot to remain relatively motionless until we had to catch the flight. Achieved, though interestingly enough we did have to find something in the shade!!
The horticultural park was quite impressive, with not only palms but quite a collection of cacti and succulents. Have you ever seen cactus trees? I hadn't, until now. Also, I didn't realize that dates were a fruit in themselves, growing on palm trees. Aren't they dried figs? No, silly, of course not.
Apparently this park is known for having an Imperial Palm - one with one base, but grows several 'children' trees out the trunk. Upon seeing this the first time I assumed this was some feat of human splicing, but apparently they are saying these trees are for real. Still doubtful.
Breakfast, lunch, the pool, relaxing ... all good. A perfect little getaway. London appeared quite nice this morning as I woke up with a whole new attitude ... it was sunny though.
Seriously ... one should be prepared for rain when moving to London. I thought I was. Fair enough, we did have a drought in March/April, but one would not expect that the warmest week of the year would be in April!!
It has rained every day since I can remember ... and it is cold! By cold, I mean 60 degrees, but even that feels cold here! I admit to turning on the heat a couple times. I am currently in the midst of a torrential down pour and my garden patio is under 6 inches of water!
OK, I am just groaning, but Chi-town ... with your emerald blue skies, powdery white clouds, sticky hot North Ave Beach days, followed by rolling thunderstorm nights ... you win. Even with the hail storms and concurrent 100 degree days.
For revenge, I booked a trip to the south of Spain this weekend. Take that!
Feeling in the mood to re-embrace this country after a bittersweet return from a visit home, I got back in the saddle and decided to do a day trip to Canterbury.
What I knew: I needed a day trip with a train ride, I wanted to walk through a quaint town, I think I actually liked the book Canterbury Tales in high school. What I didn't know ... why this town was really significant, why this cathedral was really significant, and pretty much every other historical fact I will undoubtedly forget ... or already have.
On a bit of a side note, there was also a major golf tournament occurring in Sandwich ... the last stop on my train to Canterbury, so the train was packed, and oh joy, there were four American 20 year old boys guzzling bottles of white wine at 10AM sitting right in front of me. Now, those of you who have known me for a week know that I do enjoy a good bottle of wine, and that it took every ounce of my being to keep my mouth shut, but the way this kid chugged this thing literally gave me the dry heaves ... first, simply because of the wine, but second because these fools are representing America. The Brits were cringing. Ugh. They probably puked and pee'd on the course, maybe tipped over a portolet. Any way ...
Canterbury was quite delightful. The High Street full of nice shops, ancient historic buildings throughout town reminiscent of Dickens, a nice little river, and of course the Cathedral. I am still no more the wiser really on the history, though quite impressed by it all.
I was finally convinced to head there when I saw there was a large indoor farmer's market right next to the train station offering a 'foodie day out' to Londoners. Ay-ight! After a browse through there, I headed around town and did a walk through of the Canterbury Cathedral. Quite beautiful, but eerily full of dead people. There were tombs all over the place.
Anyway, it was amazing, and just like the other cathedrals I have seen, it is unimaginable how people of that time built these massive structures, all in the name of God.
I knew it was going to rain all day, and thanks to my new endorsed-by-the-Queen brully from a dear friend, I was looking forward to it. As a closer to the afternoon, I decided to take the boat tour on the river, and it was coming down the entire time. Still, I thought it was beautiful. The water was crystal clear and the grasses flowing in the current were salad green! Looked so healthy I would have eaten them tossed with just a bit of olive oil!
Captain Chris recommended a mead from the local pub - advice I took. From there I caught that next train back to London. Maybe I should read that book again.
July 15th marked exactly one year to the day I took off from Chicago O'hare with a one-way ticket to London Heathrow, a new land full of a bunch of people I had ever met. July 16th marked the day that I arrived, groggy, overwhelmed, alone, but wide-eyed with anticipation. The passing of these dates one year later has resulted in a lot of reflection. One year - it feels like it, and yet it doesn't.
It's commonly said the older you get the faster time flies. As I sit here today it seems like yesterday that I said goodbye to my friends and family ... the people, I suppose, is where I feel the most surprise that it has been so long. Though it has been longer than I would like since I have spoken with some, and others the time in between is always too long, I still feel very close to the people I felt the most sorrow for leaving. Plus.
On the other hand, when I think back to that first month - the corporate flat, the walk from Chancery Lane to my office, and even look at pictures of myself standing on the London Bridge the first time - it does in fact seem like it was a long time ago. Almost in the sense of looking back at old high school photos - the awkwardness of something new. I believe I have grown and experienced so much in the last year. I don't feel changed ... the difference is subtle, but undeniably present.
I am constantly humbled by how all this turned out, the serendipity of the entire event plays out still today. I am eternally grateful for the community I floated into and has evolved around me here, as they make the distance seem closer and the time away shorter. To commemorate the event, I threw one heck of a little dinner party and it was simply perfect ... though every one thanked me over and over, it was me that was truly the grateful one (a few pics of some food below).
My mental commitment for this change was a two year minimum - I said to myself, 'you do not sell everything you own, leave your loved ones behind, and take on a new job to wuss out. This may be hard, but to get its full worth you must commit to at least two years ... you can see how things go from there.' Bizarrely enough, now that one year is behind I almost felt a sense of urgency ... the next year will probably go faster than the first and I still have a lot of things to do and places to see !!!!
Last weekend I was invited to go to the wedding of some new friends of mine near the small medieval town of Salisbury, England, which just happens to be the launching point of the tour bus to Stonehenge. So, I decided to take advantage of the situation and got up extra early on Saturday to assure I could catch the first tour and be back in time for the afternoon wedding.
It dawned on me the night before that because I was going straight from Salisbury to Heathrow airport on Sunday AM I would have my monster suitcase with me. Ugh. Still, I was not deterred. After the lovely hour-and-a-half train ride to town, I dragged my bag to the tour bus and asked, "am I crazy to try and bring this along?". He politely said "Yes, but do you see that little pub a couple blocks up? They will gladly watch your bag for you for two pounds." Apparently I am not the first tourist to have this issue. Score!
Short ride through the lush, sheep covered, green countryside and boom there it is. Sticks right up out of a grassy field. It pretty much is what it is, but I did think it was interesting that the entire plains area is dotted with sacred burial grounds. Mind-bending to try and consider what the people, landscape, weather, clothing, thinking, etc. were like back then when the dragged these stones down to this precise spot to set up their calendar (at least that is my interpretation).
Though lavender would have been the easy, obvious, and lovely choice, the come from behind victor of the July flower of the month is the Hydrangea.
They are all stunning, with a wide variety of colors and sizes.
