Downton Abbey Weather

It never rains on Downton Abbey, which is remarkable seeing as how it is set in England. But over the past few weeks - my very last in England - the weather has been as bright and cheery as, well, the love story of Mary and Matthew (prior to season three's finale, of course). I took advantage of the brilliant weather by tidying a few loose ends on my London bucket list, and revisiting some of my favourite nooks and crannies of the city. 

One day was packed with a stroll along the Thames, a lunch at Borough Market, and a (very) lengthy stroll through the newly-renovated Imperial War Museum. Dinner that evening was at one of my very favourite diplomat family's home, the dear Neel family. I learned that Venus fly traps make excellent pets for families who move around a lot! 

I also had a girl's night with these two lovely ladies, Lisa and Cierra! Effortlessly upbeat and genuine, these ladies will be missed. We saw Matilda on the West End and were blown away with the energy and talent on stage. 

Nothing could have prepared me for the talent and passion of the Russian Ballet! What a glorious introduction to Swan Lake.

And these ladies are just awesome. Rebecca, Kiri, Lara, and Leslie - what a lively group of girls to have at Lara's hen do. Many thanks to Kiri for the laughs and the glasses of Cuddles on the Beach.

And finally, my farewell do. I made some fabulous friendships in London. I connected with many in a way I never had before, and I do hope that our paths continue to cross throughout the years. How fortunate I was, how blessed I am.

And this. This just made me cry. Like, really, I broke down once I took a seat on the Piccadilly Line to Heathrow and just sobbed. As my last glimpses of Georgian architecture faded to blurs (thanks to the train's speed and my wet eyes) it finally began to sink in that this was goodbye. 

But not before devouring my South Bank Market shwarma for lunch, of course.

Blessed are they that have not seen...

It was too beautiful outside today not to linger in Hyde Park on the way home from church. I set down my bag and curled up on a tree-shaded (and ant-free - love this country!!!) spot of grass. As I laid on my back and looked up at the brilliant view beyond through the tree's leaves, everything was almost too beautiful to believe. The sky was so clear, so blue, and so perfectly accented with fluffy clouds that I just wanted to stay in that moment forever.

And I did. For a good couple of hours. Thoughts of life passed through my mind as the wind passed through the leaves overhead. Dreams of cuddling with Brady soon, schemes of Benjamin Moore paint hues and Ikea couches in our new flat (...er...apartment), hopes of adorable little Deardens in our lives one day.



So, pardon my leap here but my mind tends to bounce around a bit. I saw my life's wishes in my mind, I watched the leafy branches blow overhead, and I thought of my testimony of the restored gospel. Yes, they were all linked. Those dreams of waking up in my husband's arms on Saturday mornings have yet to be realised, but they are so worth believing in to me. I may not have seen the wind this afternoon, but I saw the effects of them and I thought they touched my heart with their beauty. My time to live with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ with my family has yet to come, nor was I there there when Joseph Smith knelt and prayed to know which church he should join. But these eternal truths - that God lives, that His Son is my Saviour, and that their eternal and unchanging truths were restored in 1820 with the boy prophet Joseph Smith - have touched my soul and are worth believing in to me.

Hello again

I get all giddy inside when I think of being back together with this guy. It has been so long since I've seen him in person, I am beginning to think that I am married to a little man on my Skype account screen. I talk future plans with him, he laughs at my jokes, and we pray together - almost completely oblivious that he is over four thousand miles away. But to be perfectly honest, the three and a half hour time difference has meant very little to us. I am not sad or sorry. Brady has always felt close to me. The only difference is that in two months he'll be a lot closer.

One of my favourite songs is from John Mayer's early music:

And if you never stop when you wave goodbye
You just might find if you give it time
You will wave hello again
You just might wave hello again

I still remember that long (and repeated!) wave goodbye at Nashville International Airport, but I can't wait to wave hello again.

I love you Brady. Happy two years of awesome.

And airports see it all the time
Where someone's last goodbye blends in with someone's sigh.
Cause someone's coming home in hand a single rose

Procrastination

I've been putting it off since I arrived.

I didn't know if it would be worth it. The time. The calories. The eight pound sterling. Would it be an overrated essential on everyone's London bucket list?

Absolutely not.

Did it take six paper napkins to soak up the grease beforehand? Yes. Did the chips taste twelve hours old? Mmm...a little. And were the mushy peas an eerie green? Yep. That colour definitely doesn't occur in nature. But was it a scrumptious end to a drizzly summer evening? Yes, yes, yes.

And so many thanks to Seashell of Lisson Grove, for making fish and chips a delight for a ten-month-old Londoner like me.

When One Door Closes

What to do when one has seen all there is to see of Marrakech? Why, hop on an overnight train to north Morocco and take the ferry to southern Spain, of course.

North African sunrise. Good morning to you, too.

Tangier, Morocco

Bon voyage and hola Espana!

Tarifa was stunning. Beautiful beaches and wicked cool Moorish architecture. Although there wasn't heaps of things to do here, the city's irresistibly simple charm made it difficult to leave!

And finally, the gorgeous bus ride to Gibraltar... 

Marrakech

I had a strict policy against traveling with others before the Morocco trip. 

I have this fear of being trapped in extended social situations where I am getting on someone else's nerves. I can do dinner with friends, but day trips give me the jeebies.

That was before Asha. When she asked to tag along to Marrakesh I had to quell a stomach-wrenched no. You'll hate me by the end, my social anxiety wanted to warn her. What if I'm too boring, too curious, too picky of an eater?  

Sigh. I should have known better than to doubt her awesomeness. She was such an amazing travel buddy, and her friendly spirit put me instantly at ease. We had a terrific time navigating our way through the souks, bartering with the local merchants, and just taking in a completely different culture. We had yummy tagine dinners the first night, only to realize that the Halaal-style chickens in the markets we had seen earlier that day were likely what was accompanying the saucy apricots. But there were more indications that we were no longer in Kansas (or Cavendish Square, for us). We were awoken in the mornings, not by our alarms or city buses, but by charming birds chirping in the riad's blossoming courtyard. Camels were not in zoos but on the sides of roads. And baths (Turkish) consisted of exotic oils and alternating hurls of hot and cold water. It was following one of these baths that Asha and I indulged in massages and pedicures, afterwards relaxing atop a roof to the hypnotic sounds of the call to evening prayers. 

A door at the enchanting Jardin Majorelle.

The medina is beautiful at twilight.

Breakfasting atop our riad one morning - before the sun grew too sweltering!