Windsor...

Last term, the Roots Travel company led us on a successful trip to Stonehenge and Bath. With our trip back to the States looming ever closer (yay!), Matthew and I knew we needed to take advantage of any time that he could spare from his studies and go on another day trip with Roots. So, we left Cambridge at 7:45 on Sunday morning to visit Windsor and Oxford. Our tour guide was the one and only Matt (same guy as the first trip), and we were accompanied by three Brazilians. Perfeito. I think they must have thought that all English-speaking males were named Matt based on their sample.

Proof that we were up and ready to go. I really love that time of day. Too bad that time of day is morning. Otherwise, I would enjoy it  more often. It was much lighter outside at 7:45am on this trip than it was on the last one. The sun comes up early and stays out late these days. Thank goodness for no more sunsets at 4:00pm!

These little patches of flowers (pretty weeds?) are popping up everywhere around Cambridge. Spring is in the air!

First stop in Windsor, overlooking the Thames river. On the other side of the city, across a small footbridge, is the town of Eton. 

The aforementioned footbridge in the distance. And in the foreground is an exceptionally large gathering of the Queen's swans. (There is a shop that sells food for them nearby.) Like the fowl and critters near Buckingham Palace, these birds are protected by law. Why? Well, back in the day, they were dinner! And the Royals couldn't have the common folk stealing their supper. These swans even have little bracelets around their ankles, designating them as royal property.

Aww, real life love birds. The other ones were not getting along so nicely. Very territorial animals apparently.

I just love signs that point to a castle. It's like a fairy tale book.

Unfortunately, this is as close as I got to Kate. I asked tour guide Matt when Will and Catherine would be visiting Cambridge, since they are the Duke and Duchess of our fine shire. He said it was unusual that they had not made an appearance yet. I'm sure they will stop by while Matt and I are in Texas. I would be devastated. Utterly.

A crooked house. It's structurally sound but a wee bit wonky.

This door is the city registrar's office. Prince Charles and Camilla came here to get married and sign the certificate. Afterward, they went to a chapel for a blessing ceremony. The public didn't think it would be right for them to have a big lavish wedding in a famous fancy church. I guess there is a conspiracy theory floating around that claims Charles planned Diana's car crash because he had wanted to marry Camilla from the start. (Don't believe it.) There is another hypothesis that claims Harry is not Charles' biological son. Diana had an affair in the '80s with a man who Harry greatly resembles. Of course, we will never know for sure. But that would explain why he is a handsome ginger and not a balding blonde. (Might believe that one.)

The registry office is under the right arch. This was one of Sir Christopher Wren's earliest designs. Much to the dismay of the people of the day, he built it without including columns in the middle of the open space under the first floor. They thought it was going to collapse without those pillars. So, he gave in and added them later. However, if you look closely, they aren't actually touching the ceiling or supporting anything. They are clearly decorative and not functional.

Tour guide Matt! He was explaining to us that the blue mail drop on the right is one of the only ones that has survived to this day. The red ones (which are everywhere!) were put in place at the beginning of Queen Elizabeth II's reign. Hence, they have the seal of the crown with the initials E. II R. on them. E. II. R. stands for Elizabeth the Second, Regina (Queen). The blue one was left over from her father's reign and has his initials G. R. on it. He was George Rex (King). There should have been a "VI" in between the "G" and the "R" since he was George the Sixth, but the Roman numerals were missing. The blue one is sealed shut and can no longer be used. Until recently, the red one in this location was also sealed off. This corner of Windsor is a popular spot for watching the changing of the guard, thus it would be all too easy for a bomb to be shoved in the mail slot and timed to go off at the right moment. We were informed that this is also the reason why rubbish bins are so hard to find in London. They have been removed due to the threat of terrorism. And not Al Queda terrorism, but Irish terrorism from the IRA.

This is the long lawn leading up to the Sovereign's gate at the castle. At the far end, way off in the haze, is a hill. Supposedly, atop Snow Hill, Henry VIII waited for the canon fire that signaled the execution of his second wife, Anne Boleyn.

Tour guide Matt started getting excited when he saw this chap chatting with the gate guard. Twice before, Matt has seen the Queen emerge and drive down this road. Once, she was driving her own Land Rover! My heart began skipping beats as he told of his previous encounters with Her Majesty. Although her flag was flying atop the castle, indicating that she was indeed in the building, we did not get a glimpse of her. Or her Land Rover. Bummer.

Wonder who gets a copy of that key?

Ta dah! Some lucky heads of state and other special guests get invited to a "Dine & Sleep" at the castle. Eating formal dinner, viewing treasures from the vast royal collection, getting tucked in by the Queen, and enjoying breakfast the next morning? Yes please.

The Harte and Garter Hotel hosted ol' Billy Shakespeare way back when. Legend has it that he stayed on the top floor and was able to see over the castle walls and into the private lives of the social elite. Shortly after, he wrote The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Finally, time to go inside the castle. This was a picture on the wall of the ticket entrance, just to give you an idea of the scope of the place. It's the largest occupied castle in the world! (Not PALACE, but CASTLE.) Situated on a bluff only a few miles from London, it is a prime location for a royal residence/fortress.

When we went inside, I thought this was funny. Spiffy little sports car parked next to a mini-van.

Woohoo! We're in.

Hubby was quite the sport as far as picture taking was concerned. He listened to the audio guide while I was snapping away, and he filled me in on the good stuff. What a dude.

Lovely landscaping! Not this particular tower, but a very similar one, is known as the "curfew tower." Back during the rule of the Normans when the city of Windsor was made mostly of wood, a herald would announce to the city that it was time to put out their fireplaces. It was simply too dangerous to allow the citizens to sleep while their fires were burning. So, perched on the corner tower, the herald would yell, "Covrefeu!" In French (the Normans were French), this means, "Cover the fire!" Thus, the English word "curfew" was adapted from these origins. Presumably. But, I'll buy it.

These enviable plumed hats, distinguished sashes, and well-dressed female counterparts are all a part of the grandeur of the Knights of the Garter. With only 26 allowed at one time, each one is appointed by the Sovereign and serves for life. It's an exclusive club, to say the least. Every Sunday, the Knights attend church at St. George's Chapel (within the castle walls) as representatives of the Queen. Then, they go across the courtyard and have brunch together. Adorable. In a military, super rich, old man way.

Closest I've ever been to four intimidating guns. Or to four tall bear skin hats, for that matter.

One of the views overlooking Eton. Eton College, a prestigious and expensive school for select upper class boys, was founded by King Henry VI. Ironically, it was originally a charitable school for underprivileged children. The Chapel (which dominates the right hand side of the photo) is incredibly similar to the King's College Chapel in Cambridge. Same king = same architectural style. There is an undeniable link between Windsor, Eton, Cambridge, and Oxford. The four are upper-upper class breeding grounds for achievement in politics, education, society, etc.

To my deep disappointment, photography was not permitted in the State Apartments and other interiors of the castle. Think White House meets Versailles meets Buckingham Palace, and you've got the general idea. However, I did break the rules once and capture this secret image of Queen Mary's doll house. It's not really a home for toys, but more of an exquisite miniature work of art presented to the Queen as a showcase of British craftsmanship. This thing was huge. Like, filled an entire room huge. The silver place settings are crafted of solid silver. It has running water and active electrical switches. There's even a treasury with the crown jewels locked up safe and sound (middle room, left). Craziness.

Back outside and past a quintessential castle door.

St. George's Chapel is the only Anglican church outside the jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Queen trumps all. And see what I mean about hubby being so cooperative about getting his picture taken? He kept saying, "This is your day. Whatever makes you happy." What a sweetheart. I just know one day we will end up like the couple in the next picture...

How darling are they? We stood across the street and watched their saga unfold. The wife was very particular about what she wanted in the background. The husband took about ten pictures on his antiquated, semi-disposable camera. I could tell they were getting ready to switch places so he could get his picture, so I walked up to them out of the clear blue and asked if they would like me to take their picture together. "Where were you ten minutes ago?" the witty old man quipped. Haha! They said thanks and they would love for me to take their picture, but they were out of film. I didn't know what to say. I don't know which was more dumbfounding - the man's quick humor or the fact that you can still get a roll of film developed.

Welp, that is the short version (believe it or not) of our trip to Windsor. Tour guide Matt picked us up again in the minibus, and we set off for Oxford, eating our packed lunches en route. (I got smart and thought ahead enough to bring food so we didn't waste sight-seeing time looking for something to satisfy our stomachs.) My overall impression with Windsor was favorable. I wouldn't mind living there. Of course, who would? Close to London. Close to royalty. Wealth galore. The only down side is that Heathrow is also closeby.

A plane flies overhead every minute and a half or so. What a racket! And it's sad, but every time I saw one that appeared too close to the castle, I flashed back to 9-11. Those images are forever burned in my mind's eye.

Anyway, next we explore Oxford! Ta ta for now.

Tea & Watersprite...

Friday through Sunday was one gigantic, enjoyable blur. It might take me a few days to recount all of the assorted goings-on. From tea with Paola to a local film festival to Windsor and then Oxford, the weekend was packed with entertaining activities. So, without further adieu, I'll start from the very beginning. A very good place to start. (Ah, The Sound of Music. How do you solve a problem like Maria? Ok. Sorry. Moving on.)

Paola came over to our flat for tea on Friday afternoon (and yes, she biked here.) Two and a half hours later, we were still chatting away like old friends. I don't know if I am just that much of an old soul, or if she is just that much of a young one. But either way, I'm thankful! The woman is full of surprises. She whipped out her iPod (so hip) to show me some pictures from the '60s when she lived in Senegal. Her husband got a job with the British Consulate after she had worked as a translator. Anyway, not only did I get to see photos of where they lived, the local market, the African beaches, etc., but I also had the privilege of viewing pictures of when Paola met the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh! Seriously??? Her Majesty happened to be visiting Dakar for some sort of ground-breaking ceremony, so the British families living there at the time had the chance to line the red carpet for her reception. Incredible. I believe with all my heart that the people of my grandparents' generation have amazing stories to tell. Just look at the massive changes they have lived through! If I could sit for hours upon hours at the feet of people like my Mimi and Paola, I would love to record their autobiographies. Halfway joking, I offered to buy a tape recorder so that Paola and I could do just that when we get back from Easter break in April. This stuff absolutely needs to be put in print! When I suggested that she should just start from her earliest memory and work her way to the present while I recorded, Paola told me that her kids had been begging her to document her adventures. "I guess I have had a pretty interesting life, haven't I?" she asked, as if the idea never occurred to her. Um, yeah. I would certainly say so! Oh, and Paola brought us a jar of homemade orange marmalade. She speaks countless languages, takes drawing classes, and still finds the time to whip up some edible spreadables. Geesh. I tucker out by early evening after waking up at 10:00am and blogging for most of the day. No wonder she's so young for her age.

Later that night, Matt and I met up with Xenia at Downing College for the opening events of the Watersprite Film Festival. After having a couple free glasses of wine, we followed the artsy hipsters to a question and answer session with Duncan Kenworthy. (Before I continue, let me just address the fact that I don't understand where the money for all these free Cambridge student events comes from. There is usually free food and alcohol at each one, and anyone is welcome. I guess the sky-high tuition fees have to fund something. I'm not complaining, I'm simply impressed by the amount of moolah that floats around this town.)

Despite how it looks, I was not sitting on Xenia's lap, but on the arm of her chair. Thank you very much.

So, you may have never heard of Duncan Kenworthy, but he is an entertainment industry big wig. Here are some quick credentials: he's Vice President of BAFTA, which is the more classy and clever British equivalent of the American Academy of Motion Pictures; he was a producer for years and years with Jim Henson (Muppets) and with Sesame Street; and, he produced a laundry list of beloved movies like Notting Hill, Four Weddings and a Funeral, and Love Actually. 

Clearly, I googled his picture. But, this is indeed what he looked like, minus the suit and tie.

After a million questions and a good hour and a half of him talking a lot, I'm not sure if he actually answered any of the questions. However, it was still quite fascinating to get the perspective of an important behind the scenes figure in an industry that I follow more closely than I probably should. He said a few things that really stuck with me. My favorite was this: start at the bottom of the ladder. It's a great place to be, because if you make your way a few steps up and decide that this particular ladder is not the one for you, you only have to climb down a few wrungs to start over again. Also, he kept reiterating a piece of advice that I have heard a million times, but it seems especially pertinent to my life right now: get your foot in the door. Don't turn down an opportunity just because it isn't exactly what you were looking for. Most career paths only make logical sense in retrospect. Every step is a building block, no matter how oddly shaped, and you never know what connections and opportunities will come of each one. He reassured us that there is nothing wrong with not having your life figured out immediately after college. Long and successful careers have to start somewhere. Worry about finding your passion and what you want to say to the world. Then find a way to say it. (Whew. What a relief!) Duncan's latest project is remaking the iconic My Fair Lady. He is pitching it to the various studios at the moment, but he needs 50 million smackers for the production budget, and apparently no one is willing to front the money. However, if it does get made, Colin Firth and Carey Mulligan are signed up to be the headlining stars. Keep an eye out! Remember, you heard it here first.


Saturday afternoon, it was back to another Watersprite activity with Xenia, this time at Emmanuel College. We arrived early, so we took the opportunity to venture through the grounds and take some pictures. It was really gorgeous! And much bigger than we expected. (The weather has been beautiful these past few days! Blue skies and wispy clouds. It's hard to believe there was snow on the ground only a couple short weeks ago.)

The main courtyard is but the tip of the iceberg. If this looks familiar, it's because I took virtually the same shot (at night) when I went to Sela's Touch of Africa exhibition.

Lamp post? Check. Pond? Check. Green, green grass? Check. Lovely.

Can't hardly beat a good reflection.

This workshop was called "Aesthetics and Prosthetics: Makeup in Film," given by Oscar-winner Christine Blundell. She has been the hair and makeup designer on movies like Sherlock Holmes (the Robert Downey Junior version), The Constant Gardener, Casino Royale, and Finding Neverland. Fun facts: her budget for Sherlock Holmes 2 was around £90,000 (roughly $150,000.) Daniel Craig had 6 stunt doubles in Casino Royale, each of which had to be fitted with a wig that cost around £1,000 each. Oh, and she gave Angelina Jolie her first tattoo (fake) on the set of one of Angie's earliest movies called Hackers. But, not everything she does is high dollar. She knows how to make blood from ingredients bought at the grocery store, and she once had to use hair from a goat to fill in an actor's wig when they were filming in Thailand.

She brought lots of fun props and did some live demonstrations to give us an idea of what she does on a daily basis. (Her presentation reminded me of the horror movie makeup show at Disney World Hollywood Studios. If you don't know what I'm talking about, I think it's time you visit Disney World.)

Christine was a spunky one, I tell you. Boldly British and not afraid to tell it like it is.

This was a picture of Sienna Miller (and the wig Christine made for her) in a film called Hippies that never got released. We even got to pass the wig around. Kind of weird to hold a head full of someone else's detached hair.

One lucky audience member got some fake cuts, bruises, and bullet wounds.

This was the flame retardant prosthetic used by some guy who gets set on fire in Sherlock Holmes. It survived six whole takes of being burned. The nose and skin were so realistic! And the man with the crazy curly hair in the background was another audience member who got a makeover. His real hair is actually a buzz cut, but Christine put a bald spot and wild wig on him. His wife got quite a kick out of it.

I about had a heart attack when I saw half of an old dude sitting in this chair. It was also fake, thank goodness. The open box on the table was Robert Downey's makeup from Sherlock. Hot dang!

Seems like that would be an interesting and creative job, right? Not bad for a lady who dropped out of high school at 15 and worked her way up the ranks. Not that I am advocating dropping out! Kids, stay in school, and say no to drugs! But, it just goes to show you that there is no 'right' way to find what you love.

And, voila! That brings me to Sunday and our visits to Windsor and Oxford. There are approximately one bazillion pictures waiting patiently on my memory card. Once they are edited, I'll have them up in a jiffy. Looking forward to reliving our tours of the Queen's royal residence (well, one of her residences) and Cambridge's rival city. Until then!

Mail Time...

I can't believe it has taken me a few days to mention the belated Valentine's Day package that arrived in the mail on Monday! (Well, I actually can believe it because I have been so busy devouring its contents that it hasn't crossed my mind to write about it.) Our parents have been really thoughtful and have spoiled us rotten while we've been apart. Matt's mom put together a (very heavy) box o' goodies for us. And though it reached our doorstep a few days after February 14th, it was right on time because we had already eaten all the Valentine's goodies that my mom had sent us! If it weren't for the fact that we have to walk and bike everywhere, I'm fairly confident that hubby and I would have a combined weight of around 500 pounds by this point.

This sucker was hard for me to lift it was so chock-full of surprises!

Truffles and pop tarts and thin mints, oh my!

Yes, these are My Little Pony fruit snacks. No, I don't like fruit snacks. So yes, these are Matt's My Little Pony fruit snacks.

As happy as the edibles made me, I think my favorite part were the cards we received from the two girls I babysat this past summer. When they found out that a package was being shipped to England for us, they just had to include their well wishes. And I'm super glad that they did!

Love birds! So cute.

Matt is looking buff these days. And true to reality, I am wearing a crown like the princess that I am.

Very impressive depiction of our great state! And I loved the reference to tea time. I do tend to drink at least 2 cups a day.

They even remembered all the fun activities we got to do together during the miserably hot months of June and July! I too wish that I could still babysit you girls!

Absolutely precious. I went to the post office to mail a thank you card back to Tulsa, and the guy behind the counter asked (really excitedly), "Are you from Tulsa?" I answered affirmatively, to which he responded, "I've never actually met someone from there! I've always wanted to since that's where Chandler moves for awhile during Friends." Cracks me up how many people reference that series when we tell them where we're from. Generally speaking, what they know of Oklahoma either stems from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical or, they've only heard of it in the Eric Clapton song "Livin' on Tulsa Time." I replied, "Yeah, I don't think it's as bad as Chandler makes it out to be. It's certainly not New York City or Cambridge, but it's home." And that is the truth. Our families who love us and fuel our addiction to junk food are there. The kids we sometimes look after and hang out with are there. The doggie we miss so badly is there. Our roots are there. Who knows if we will ever settle there again, but it is comforting to know that we can always go back.

Reviews...

On this blustery and rainy afternoon, I'm huddled in my robe on our sofa, green tea in hand, scanning various news articles. And after being further convinced of how broken our world is, I'm feeling the need for a good book that will help my mind escape. While trying to come up with ideas for my next reading venture, I decided I should shortly list and review my most recent page perusals.

To Live is Christ: The Life and Ministry of Paul by Beth Moore: Since completing Unbroken, which is still #1B on my 'favorite books of all time' list (the Bible being #1A), this is the only thing I have read that swept me up entirely. It is a ten week study of the apostle Paul's life and writings. Everyday, it taught me something practical and applicable. This man became much more real to me, and consequently, so did the One he followed.

Death Comes to Pemberley by P. D. James: Written as a sequel to the classic Pride & Prejudice, this novel picks up a few years after Darcy and Elizabeth tie the knot. It's a murder mystery/court drama/love story that I think Jane Austen would approve of. The author is a darling 91 year-old British woman who is very well known and loved for her writing. I figured I needed to read some sort of English period piece while I lived here. Amazing how easy it was for me to imagine dreary old London and misty country estates while physically living near both.

Erasing Hell by Francis Chan & Preston Sprinkle: (How I would love to have the last name Sprinkle!) Although this is not a particularly happy-go-lucky book, it is filled with humbling and sobering truth, and that makes it worth investigating. The authors attempt to address a lot of claims made by Rob Bell's controversial book Love Wins, while keeping the central issue at hand. We're talking about real people with real destinies, and we can't waste time heartlessly arguing our doctrinal points of view. Definitely made me think. And pray. A lot. Hell is one of those things we can't afford to get wrong.

Now begins the debate of what to conquer next. For whatever reason, I can't seem to commit to a series like The Hunger Games, no matter how good it is. Maybe it's because I know I can just watch the movies and get the gist of it as I have for The Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, Harry Potter, etc. On the opposite end of the spectrum from fantasy fiction is the biography/autobiography genre, which has treated me well thus far. A few candidates have arisen:

Each has its pros and cons. We shall see. I just want to be inspired! Oh, and speaking of inspirational things, I went to an aerobics class today with Xenia. The schedule said "Zumba," but instead, we got "The Swedish Way of Sweating," aptly named by our Swedish instructor. (The Zumba teacher was sick, so at the last minute, this Swedish student who loves aerobic exercising stepped in. She categorized her style of workout as "dance-y" with "lots of moving around.") From what I gathered during the 45 minutes of jumping wildly and laughing hysterically to the tunes of Katy Perry and The Lion King, the Swedish way sure is an enjoyable way! My dad has always encouraged me to dance like no one's watching and sing like no one's listening... Well, let me tell you, I lost all inhibition and did just that. My 'dancing' was appropriately erratic, and I may or may not have mouthed the words along with the music. I was sweating up a super Swedish storm! I desperately hope that no one was secretly videoing me, but I'm confident that the spectacle would go viral if posted to YouTube. That class and the fearless instructor definitely brought a dose of brightness to an otherwise cloudy day. She must have read Dr. Seuss while she was eating her Wheaties this morning: “I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny, but we can have lots of good fun that is funny.” -The Cat in the Hat