Central Parks.

Brenden, Spring, and I decided to take this stroll through four of London's royal parks on the quintessential Spring-like morning that was Thursday, before class.  (Spring-like in the sense of both the season AND the person :) We couldn't have planned it better. Everyone was out and mingling for an early lunch hour enjoying the sun-rays reflected on the pond waters, which allowed for some worthwhile people watching. The birds and ducks were plentiful and friendly, enjoying every moment of the wheat attention they were getting. Brenden was encyclopedia-worthy with all the avifauna mating protocol he provided in conversation, which was more than I ever learned in my freshmen biology class. And as if the feathered birds & bees talk wasn't engaging enough, we rounded the area of Buckingham Palace just in time to watch the Changing of the Guard and catch bits of an Iranian protest going on at Hyde Park corner. It was definitely the most interesting walk I've been on. I gained an overdue appreciation for living just across the street from one of these pretty parks, and discovered more of it than I probably would have otherwise (i.e. the Peter Pan statue--a highlight).

Those Romans.

Today I was in the V&A museum looking at an impressive collection of Roman sculptures (this one in my non-art educated particular, was the tender favorite) when I remembered the last time I was looking at similar carvings.

I was in the Ceasar's Palace hotel in Las Vegas with my family. We were waiting in the shopping mall there for our dinner reservation at the Cheesecake Factory. I was about thirteen or fourteen, and was still being closely followed by my sister two years younger. To save you from the math, that would put her at around eleven or twelve--somewhere around 4th or 5th grade.

I was looking at a Roman statuette. I really liked the marble, I guess.

Okay, maybe I'm lying. I had just finished my Sex Education class and didn't know what to make of all the inconceivable facts I had just been told, the ones that very nearly flipped my whole world upside down. To my horror, Mackenzie shows up at my side and catches me in this very deplorable act. I was thirteen/fourteen so I knew by then that when things of that nature showed up, I was to avert eye contact and keep walking. I knew that. I was ashamed and uncomfortable. I didn't know what to do.

She looks at me, and then the statue. She proceeds to look back and forth a few times more. Then she turns to me a final time and says,
                                   "Is that where lettuce comes from, Hay?"

Roman sculptures at Ceasar's Palace are different than the Roman sculptures at the V&A museum...

Fleet Street & St. Paul's.

This walk was a teaser. It started with the striking St. Paul's cathedral and lead us up and away to a plethora of other churches that albeit charming, weren't nearly as comparable. As the old centre of London's printing and publishing industries, this western section of the city was highly commercial, brilliantly incorporating the grizzled buildings responsible for the area's traditional reputation and the new buildings of a more diverse economic sector. I imagine it's quite a fun game for the city planners to find innovative ways to work around such historical construction. Other notable sites were the private, residential neighborhood we stumbled into while lost, Shakespeare's Blackfriars Playhouse (an indoor theatre that was unusual for the time), and the funky Blackfriar Pub (the only one in the city decorated in the art nouveau style)--to name just a few.


Elise, our fearless leader, in front of Dr. Johnson's house--he wrote a dictionary.

working on my fitness.

It takes 68 steps to get to my very America's Next Top Model-esque room.

68 steps. Sixty-eight!

It doesn't matter that I've already had one month's practice under my belt, I'm still huffing and puffing by the time I make it to my haven of bunk beds. I have re-think every trip to the bathroom (one flight down), or the classroom (three flights down), or the servery (five flights down).

At least I re-think every mid-afternoon or night snack.

And I'm just thankful I don't have to climb the ladder flight of stairs to the top bunk.

faces.

Can you imagine having your head lacerated by this face?

Shoot. Can you imagine having your head lacerated at all?

I can't. Bless the souls of all those that fell under that fate. Whether they were truly guilty of treason or just a helpless pawn in the game of politics, like Lady Jane Grey. No one deserves such cruelty.

I mean, this face is cruel and creepy enough.

Like....what is that? An elephant trunk for a nose AND a cleft lip/palate?

toooiiilllleetttt.

If you literally want to LOL/LMAO, you have got to read this.

Her name is Jamie and she's my bunkmate on this here study abroad. The told tale is classic.

you [can't] call me Di.

Have you ever been to afternoon (herbal) tea?

Well I have. It was quite the event. I got all dressed up in my fancies for my inauguration at Kensington Palace (that's Princess Diana's old abode for you non-familiars). I was on my best behavior so I wouldn't disappoint her in the spirit world.



I mean, I really tried to bring on my inner Di. I even did the raised pinky (not shown, obviously), which is kind of a big deal for me since I have a thing about hands. Don't ask. But I totally do.

Anyways, it turns out there is a glitch with the little finger shananigans (I knew I didn't like it) when trying to balance a full cup of tea....it defies the laws of gravity. I quite honestly spilled my tea everywhere and had to use the plates from my scone and lovely pastries, the jam dish, and sugar packets to create an artistic pattern of sorts to disguise the wet mess.....then I got out of there real fast. I'm sorry Di, I really am.