Gothic Alice

Ok, I finally decided to dress up.  The expat gang settled on a Neverland theme for our Halloween party, as we are all living in what at times seems to be a bit of a fantasy.  Though I couldn't come up with a Peter Pan themed costume (not sure I have actually ever seen that movie!), I did end up finding a Wonderland themed costume ... close enough!!

Another great night with the crew, and some very creative costumes.  The ladies were gorgeous and the boys full of fun as always.

Sports

I definitely crossed off all the sporting events I need to participate in for the foreseeable future throughout October, having the chance to see both types of football - American and the type the rest of the world plays.

While Jonas was still in town we randomly checked online for tickets to see the Arsenal football (soccer) club, whom is local to my neighborhood and I have declared my loyalty.

They are quite popular and tickets are usually hard to come by, but on this day they were playing a lesser known team and we were able to get some seats!  It was a great chance to see a soccer game in England, for us both.  They won and we could walk home!

Also, as luck would have it the Chicago Bears played Tampa Bay in an International Series NFL game at Wembley Stadium.  A good portion of the expat group secured tickets one way or another.  We hosted a proper tailgate party with a massive amount of barbecued meat before heading off to the game.  Look at that group!

I was fortunate enough to be joined by one of my great friends from Chicago and his two children, for what turned out to be another great game.  I will admit, there was a special feeling in the air ... a familiar feeling, and I was literally startled by hearing a Chicago accent from someone sitting behind me.  Cried during the Star Spangled Banner.  

A spectacular game and the Bears won too!!

Piedmont

The final leg of the Italy dream trip was to Piedmont.  Five days driving through the wine country of Barolo, Barbaresco, Roero - the Langhe hills.  This place in particular holds a special spot in my heart, as throughout the years of hanging with my crew at Buona Terra (if ever in Chicago check it out!) we spent countless nights hashing out all of life's ins and outs while reviewing in detail the varietals of this region.

Barolo is considered the king of wines, only to be rivalled by France's Burgundy as the finest in the world.  The geographical region is actually quite small, and when on top of one of the many hilltops you can see it all in one breathtaking view.

We started out this leg of the trip taking the train from Cinque Terra to Genoa airport to pick up our little car and took our time driving along the coast before heading north.  The landscape quickly changed to lush, green mountains with highways either suspended between them or purging through them via long black tunnels.

After a lovely two hour drive we were in wine country.  Piedmont stands for "foot of the mountain" and is green planes resting at the foot of the Alps.  I had picked out our room at a converted castle, Castello di Sinio, and no doubt I felt like a princess the entire time!  What a room!  Three directional views of the vineyards from the top of a stone castle!  From the sunset views, the comfy bed, the decadent breakfast buffet to the Michelin rated birthday dinner, it was ridiculous!

That Saturday was the opening day of the Alba Truffle Market, and we were just a 15 minute drive from Alba, one of the larger towns in the region.  I have met only one person who said they didn't like truffles (and I'm talking about the fungus, not chocolate), but I am still convinced they clearly were delusional.  The truffle, for whatever reason, holds an intoxicating aroma and nearly all who encounter its glory are hooked.

So much so that a truffle now sells at more per ounce than gold, and this was the time of year when they are harvested in the place in the world where they are found naturally and those with hundreds of extra dollars for mushrooms come to buy up their crop.  It was pretty cool to be there ... we smelt quite a few of them, bought up truffle oil, truffle cheese, truffle salami, and even had a bowl of fresh pasta with truffle grated on top.  Never got tired of it.

The remainder of the time we spent driving to the little villages each with their own castle, seeing the views and visiting their enotecas, picnicking, and of course eating at some great restaurants.  There was a little pizzeria within walking distance of our room that did heart-shaped pizzas that were delicious, and we took a risk at a place that did not come highly recommended to have what turned out to be the best meal of the trip (though best one course still goes to the risotto in Santa Margherita!).

We walked in and food just started showing up at our table ... no menu, just a decadent six course meal of tartare with porcini, truffle/parmigiana soup with quail egg, artichoke cannelloni, sausage pasta, panna cotta with poached pears ... whew.  All run by what appeared to be a two person show, along with their dog and a story of a pet pig that was stolen long ago.

We did make it inside one winery via a much appreciated hook up from my Chicago crew (most do not allow walk-ins), and it was cool to see how it all came together ... a seemingly impossible small operation, run mostly by family, but distributed throughout the world at a premium price.  Though I could have sent home cases, I carefully selected four bottles along the trip to be my souvenirs ... we'll see how long those last!!

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Cinque ("Cheen-kuh") Terra

Cinque Terra is a region along the Northwest coast of Italy that consists of five small towns preserved in time, all hanging in the steep cliffs along the ocean.  Until not so long ago they were only accessible by foot or boat, and it is common for visitors to plan a hike between all five.

In this leg of our journey we took the train from Santa Margherita to Monterosso, the northern-most and largest of the five.  That is where we had our lovely room with a balcony for two nights.  The turquoise beach that greatest us as soon as we stepped off the train was incredibly difficult to pass by.

But off to hiking we were!  The plan for day one was to take the train (which in itself is a fine example of human perseverance - those tunnels through the mountainside were impressive!) down to Manarolo and walk the 'Via dell 'Amore' to Riomaggiore.  This leg of the path was comfy - paved, railing, etc.  Known for lovers, couples had secured locks along the way as a symbol of their unending love.  Jonas and I got engaged.  Joke!!!!

However, we did settle down for quite a nice sit on these old stairs down the side of the mountain for a perfect sunset view (flashbacks of the Portugal trail experience had me a bit nervous).  Certainly a highlight of the trip for me.  Thanks babe!  Riomaggiore is exactly as I imagined ... bright homes, boats, and a wonderful dinner where we had another plate of anchovies and smoked tuna.  Yum.

The agenda for day two was to hike from our town over to Vernazza and then Corniglia.  This was an intense walk, as the first 30 minutes were straight up rocky 'stairs' to the top of this mountain.  The heart was sure pumping!  I was so impressed by the people I saw on this trip.  Average age was probably 60, and these people, with their walking sticks and hiking boots were smoking Jonas and I.  Very inspirational.

The entire walk took us an hour and a half.  This region is also known for its own wines, and the terraces that have been constructed forming ledges on the mountains for growing grapes and olives add to the scenery.  We cruised around town, had a piece of pizza and ultimately decided we didn't have it in us to proceed until the next hour hike to Corniglia, so we just went back to the beach and ended the perfect day with a picnic on our balcony and wine in a little enoteca.

I shall forever say that I only set foot in four of the cinque terra, but man it was awesome.
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Portofino

The first planned destination of the Italian birthday adventure was Portofino - rumoured to be one of the most timelessly beautiful scenes in all of Italy.  Because it was near the other planned destinations, I slipped this in for one quick visit ... why not?

We stayed two nights in the nearby town Santa Margherita - a bit more financially reasonable than Porto, known for regular visits from the rich, famous, and lavishly large-boated.

After our unplanned visit in Pisa we arrived via train in Santa Margherita our first evening.  We strolled a bit through town and couldn't resist a larger than life pizza we eye-balled along the way.

This region, known as the Liguria coast, is the source of several local products - anchovies are one Jonas was a bit more thrilled about than I.  We stopped later that evening at an adorable restaurant near our hotel for a nightcap and had a plate of anchovies that were quite fresh and delicious.  I am a convert!

The next AM we were up to catch the boat to take us along the coast and into Portofino.  The weather ended up being quite a bit warmer than anticipated and I was thrilled the boat trips were still running in October.  What better way to ride into lovely Portofino than on the crystal turquoise water to see the sun shining onto the golden buildings?

We spent the day exploring town, hiking up to the top of the opposite hill to check out the views, and then a lunch on the water consisting of a typical dish of pasta with pesto sauce and filet milanese.  Molto buono!

On our return to Santa Margherita, the restaurant with the anchovies looked so good we decided to head back there and had arguably the best meal of the trip (only one other competes - to be mentioned in the Piedmonte chapter).

The antipasti was an octupus / potato salad that was so simple, but so well-prepared and tender ... yum.  However, it was the seafood risotto - so rich, fresh, creamy, and seafoody - that won best prize for best single dish.  The taste alone had me convinced they it undoubtedly took hours of simmering shells and vegetables to make the stock alone.  Amazing ... Jonas and I had to roll out of there to our room!

The trip was off to a perfect start!   << slide show on this one! >>

The Italy Birthday Trip: Pisa

Thus starts a series of blogs accounting my recent 'dream trip' to northern Italy ... ten days planned (and planned, and planned) to be shared between the coast and wine country to see first hand all that I have discussed for so long regarding the pleasures this region has to offer.  There will be four to this series - if I tried to cover the trip all in one blog it would be impossible - 600+ photos!!

The trip started off on a concerning note when a series of public transportation set backs in London caused us to miss our flight to Genova by minutes ... (argh!!!) Jonas said he could see me turning red from the neck up.  I was simply trying to fight back the tears and think rationally.

Genova is a small city, and it is not like you just jump on the next flight in an hour or two ... the next flight was tomorrow, and it was full.  Fortunately our scurry with a helpful BA counter agent with an atlas landed us with a flight to the not so far away Pisa, leaving in an hour ... Yes!  Oh, and that will cost you just ...  Ugh.  Oh well, you take what you get.  Nothing was going to ruin this trip!

So, though an hour behind, things from here went perfectly and I got to see the Tower of Pisa!!  Unexpected bonus - another major global monument checked off the list!  Of course, the cheesy tourist thing to do at the tower is attempt to get some sort of clever shot of you supporting the tower ... ours were just not so successful, but you get the point!

The tower itself was stunning, almost seemed to be carved of ivory, and definitely leaning at an eerie angle.

Now ... I just need to figure out how to get from Pisa to our original destination, Santa Margherita.  Thank goodness I knew the Tren Italia site fairly well from doing previous research, and it was just an hour and a half train ride.  After just a short pit stop we're off ...

Best Picture Ever!

Rion John.  3.5 months. Straight chillin' in my skinny jeans.

Surfing: Kind of like life.

As far vertical as I got.

This past weekend it struck me that surfing seemed like a good idea.  A couple of my more sporty friends were heading down to Cornwall to take some surfing lessons.  It's been a bit since I'd been on an adventure, work is stressing me out, I love the ocean (oh, and there was the added value of driving on the wrong side, South England scenery and perhaps quant site-seeing on Sunday), so I thought, 'why not?'.

Some of you may be thinking, 'isn't it cold in England right now ... at least in the ocean?'  The answer is yes.   To be fair, the air was cool, but the water was actually quite refreshing, and with the wet suit I really did not feel the urge to get out of the water from coldness ... putting back on the wetsuit for the afternoon session, however .... chil-ly.

We got real lucky that the weather turned out as good as it did (which seems a bit ironic since at one point during the surf lesson I am sure shards of ice were falling from the sky and into my face), but we really did have some lovely blue skies and sun, which was unexpected.

We stayed the night in a renovated church in what barely could be called a village, complete with a stone arched bridge and a thatch-roofed cottage.  Big bonus was that they had a small local pub with delicious food, not a tourist in sight (except across my table), and the season's first pub quiz (!!).  Yes!!  After surfing for your first time ever, finding food, drink, and trivia within crawling distance is oh ... so ... awesome.  The locals were kind, funny, and accommodating - they even gave us proper congrats when 'the Americans' got the highest score on the 'Potluck' round.  Their advice was to start reading the paper.  Fair enough.

After a good night's sleep, we woke and attempted to lift ourselves out of bed with our exhausted bodies and grab a fulfilling breaksfast.  The Cornwall region is known for 'Clotted Cream Tea'.  Now, in the English classes I took adjectives came before the noun, and thus I expected this to be a cup of tea, with cream in it, and chunks.  Much to my delight - no.  This refers to the common practive of having a tea (so in this case tea is a verb) - accompanied by a 'scone' (which to Americans is a buttermilk biscuit) with a sweet, buttery, creamy concoction on the side (the clotted cream).  Whoa.  Good.  They even make ice cream out of this clotted cream.  I'll have to forget I ever had this stuff to avoid the eventual cardiac arrest if I were to develop a habit.

After breakfast we started on our long trip home, passing through the small old fishing village Clovelly.  Very cute, more exercise, a local crab sandwich, donkeys, lobster cages,  fresia flowers, a cute dog, a cat next to a seafood sign ... all things that make for a perfect Sunday stop.  And then the five hour drive back to London.  I ... can't ... move ... my ... arms ...

I have to say, as I was heel over head with a facial enema of ocean water it dawned on me how symbolic this weekend was of my life right now ... this new job was like a tidal wave crashing on me.  I could see it coming, I knew it was huge, and I know I will not handle it all the time.  But the tenacity to turn around after being bowled over, look at it straight on and say 'I will own you' - it is quite a parallel.  The goal the same ... see the rhythm, be patient and find the timing, know when to push yourself up and stand, and find the joy when you fall.  That is what surfing is ... a metaphor for how to tackle life, and a pretty darn good workout.  Thanks Amy.

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Thursday Night

So it dawns on me as I am sitting at my local pub that's there are a lot of people here. Now I should probably preface this to say that it seems as if it has been a week since I have showered and left the house, so perhaps the activity is just a bit startling - like light in the eyes after darkness - but it feels good.  What secrets have been happening while I have I been tapping away at those keys? All these people out and about on a work night, and they ain't young! (eyebrow raise)

I was given a book by a friend that I cracked open tonight and within 20 minutes of reading I am convinced I must buy 20 copies and mail each, wrapped in brown paper, to key colleagues, a couple friends, and my Mom.  A serendipitous delivery from a dear friend.

The contentment I am feeling is in part sourced by the sense that I am finally part of my community ('hey, I've seen that guy before', and 'oh, there is that cute dog') -  and clumsily the entrance into a new position at work combined with utter cluelessness about the future.  In fact, as I walked over to the pub tonight I actually thought about how I have found my equilibrium point - who I am.  In the Chi it was standard for me to leave the house about 9p on a Thursday in hot pursuit of a good meal and good conversation. The objective tonight no different .... though the result is still catching up, I have a sense of this is who I am and who I like to be.  Most likely will sleep until 9AM tomorrow.

Truth is, life is simmering into the sweet syrup of perfection and though I push the urgency for the future and still tears fall for the longing of the past, I know in my soul today is just right.

Notting Hill Carnaval ... Riotless

The Carnival street festival, held each year in the neighborhood of Notting Hill, was started back in the 60's in an effort to improve race relations after riots had occurred the year before.  Today it is now touted as being the second largest street festival in the world after Rio's Carnival (though I'd like to see those stats checked, as the Taste in Chicago has got to be close).  This year they estimated a million people showed up (not sure if that counts the 6,500 police or not).

In a nutshell they board up the entire neighborhood and blare loud music, which is on any other day a super-chic, uber-trendy, cute, boutique-y, expensive area where Hugh Grant lives (well, most people think that anyway) and nobody speaks too loud.

To see the beloved Notting Hill in this state was jaw-dropping, and the speed at which the hoodlums grafftied it up quite impressive (though, with a nod to their proper English upbringing, I did  not see a drop of paint on anything but those boards).

Spread throughout there were random stages (or lets call them stacks of speakers bellowing bass that must register about a 4.0 on the Richter scale) with crowds of bootie shakers with seemingly little care about 'smart' fashion. The aroma was certainly the best thing about it ... the charcoal smoke from barbecuing jerk chicken wafted through the air.  Yummy.

All in all, I am glad I went and after two Red Stripes the music does get into your hips, the people watching is supreme ... however, once in a lifetime is definitely enough.

Small commentary on the riots ... the city was quite close to cancelling Carnaval this year in light of the riots earlier this month.  Fears of potential bombing left the entire fest without 'rubbage bins'.  I had not written about them, and will not write much now, but I did find it ironic as I looked up how this Carnaval got started to see the reference to the race riots in London back in the 60's.  All in all, it remains universal that people do not want to be poor or disrespected, we fear what is unknown and different, and in the end, if we stand up together and do not succumb we can all have a good time and take back our peace.

Charlotte

In a bit of a situation ... this very large, crunchy, threatening looking spider has taken up residence in the corner of my front door.  Each morning when I open up the door, 'she' is there ... or more accuratelty it goes something like ... I walk towards the door, remember she is out there, minor dread, move slower, I make excessive noise to open the door to alert her I am coming, I slowly open it, stare ........  once I am convinced she is not going to leap at me I sneak carefully out, say a few words on my mind, and lock the door.

Now, this just seems like more stress than one should have every day, and I do admit early on I took a broom and politely swiped her into the bushes.  However, she was promptly back.  Must be prime real estate.  Interestingly enough, this has now been a couple weeks and she at times anchors her web on the door, which means each day I rip it apart (which psychotically is bringing me a dose of guilt each time), but nonetheless she re-weaves it again every night.

If you don't think that exposures kids have as a child stick with them you're nuts ... that book Charlotte's Web, with that wonderfully kind spider, has me living in dread each and every morning until who knows when ... that's 'some pig'.

Slug Buffet

Walking home the other night after a light rain, I come around the corner to see this disgusting display of snails and slugs.  Gross!!  Seriously!

More than once now I have heard a crunch under my foot, and I now know the sensation / sound combination can only be me squishing one of these nasty creatures under my flip flop.  Shivers.

I have been on full swat patrol in my own garden, after a rain I will go out with a flashlight and a glove and make sure I pluck anyone trying to dine on my greens and pop them in a trash bag.  Not glamorous, but slightly entertaining.

So far I have done quite well, but they have nearly devastated my Dahlia again .. they LOVE those things.  Got one great snap of it before it is sure to be disintegrated in a week or so.

Interestingly, and a relief, they actually do not go for my herbs or tomatoes.  So, I have quite a nice supply.  If we ever manage to get sun, I think I may get a bumper crop of tomatoes!  Yeah!

Other than that, the garden has been in tip top shape, supporting two great parties so far, and waiting for more.  It has been quite chilly, and there is the smell of Fall in the air here already.

Fortunately, my garden was still quite green in December last year, so think there is still time for a few more great BBQs ...

Food Makin' by Yours Truly

British pub quote

For years now I have had a developing love affair with food.  Starting in my youth, no doubt my comfort food carving list was topped by Kraft Mac&Cheese, Spaghetti-Os with meatballs, and Fruity Pebbles (which BTW all are still guiltily binge-able).

Bream ceviche with capers, thyme, and chili

As I made my way through college years, the corporate scene, interesting people, and world travels my interest in food continued to expand, and still does.

The last few months I believe (pat my own back) I have gone beyond myself to the next level.  The proximity to fresh, 'exotic' ingredients, and the proliferation of great cookbooks have allowed me to come up with exploratory ideas and try different things, all while maintaining my personal distinct style that underlies every dish I make.  I covet the days when all I have to do is browse the market, smell the veg, and come home and start chopping.

Curry mussels with French country bread

My approach to cooking is quite simple.  One, only the best of ingredients.  Any time I see an Italian guy with imported truffle oil from his grandfather's land, or a shop with farm-fresh English cheese, or garden fresh in-season greens I am in.  Chorizo in from Spain?  U.S. sweat corn?  Hot house beef steak tomatoes?  Scottish smoked salmon?  In, In, In, In.  Quite often, all you have to do is put them all on a plate together and its mental.

Number two, fresh.  As little as possible out of a package.  Only real exclusions here are olive oil, yoghurt/dairy, coffee, and grains/pasta (well, because without packaging would be quite messy).

Local Tagliatelli, roasted San Marzano tomatoes, artichokes

Third approach - color.  Clash, compliment, whatever you do, just have a lot of it.  And vary it day to day for maximum health benefit.

And finally, the unexpected sweet and salty combination approach that I use to assemble dishes.  Ever put a sprinkling of sea salt on figs, with a bit of prosciutto and a dash of pear vinegar?  Say no more.  I am constantly trying to challenge these concepts and am eating quite well in the process!

Jonas special salad with radish sprouts, avocado

July flower of the month: Hydrangea

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).

Attitude Adjustment: Elche, Spain

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.

<< Slide show on this one >>

Weather Contrast: U.K. -3

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!

Canterbury, Kent

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.

One Year Later

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 !!!!

<< small slideshow on this one >>