Farewell Food & Floating...

Thursday night was the farewell dinner for Matthew and his fellow MBE classmates. That's right folks, their course is OVER! Wait, didn't we just move here? Well, I'm going to try my best not to get all sentimental and just stick to the facts.

First, there were welcome drinks in the cloisters of St. John's new court. This year marked the tenth anniversary of the MBE program, so there were approximately 125 faculty, students, alumni, and guests at the event.

After the cocktail hour, we moved to St. John's formal dining hall.

I almost forgot to show you our outfits. I know you were dying to see them.

Walking through the courtyards of the colleges makes me nostalgic already. There's no place like them. So regal.

Inside the dining hall, you can't help but feel transported to another time and place. (Hogwarts, anyone?)

There were three super long tables, and they were all packed with important and intelligent people. There's no telling how many degrees could be counted between them. The special guest speaker was an assistant to a member of British Parliament. I sat next to an orthopedic surgeon and across from a London lawyer. Most of the lecturers from the program were in attendance, as well as several corporate big wigs. Slightly intimidating group.

The table settings were gorgeous, and the food was delicious. We had roasted lamb, vegetables, quinoa, some variant of fried ice cream, wine, and coffee. Yum! The crested dinnerware was lovely, and the candelabras cast the perfect ambient glow.

Alberto and Victor both gave excellent speeches on behalf of this year's class. They were the perfect mix of sincere gratitude and humorous inside jokes. I even got a shout-out from each of them about the cookies that I baked "at just the right time, when they needed them most." I can't explain how thankful I feel for having been incorporated into the MBE class. They didn't treat me like the weird-o wife, and that means more to me than they know.

Fast forward to Saturday morning, and we met up with a few friends at Pembroke College for what could very well have been our final weekend brunch as a group. How bittersweet.

Couter-clockwise: Matthew, Magda, Disha, Harsh, Matteo, and me. (Alberto showed up late due to an incident with a traffic-prone taxi.) Have I ever mentioned what a traditional English breakfast entails? In case I haven't, the Brits enjoy beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, blood pudding, toast, eggs, and ham for their morning routine. (Can you say, disgusting???) Not even remotely appetizing. Thank the Lord, they have adopted waffles and pancakes from America, or we would not have participated in these meals.

When we finished eating, the weather cleared long enough for us to go punting. Alberto and Magda had yet to experience this Cambridge tradition. Shame on them! Nine months in town? It was about time.

Alberto, Magda's brother John (whose name I would spell in Greek if I weren't afraid of butchering it), and Magda were ready for their inaugural cruise. We made Matthew steer first to show them the technique.

Then Alberto hopped right into the driver's spot. He was a professional, despite being a first-timer. He credited his gondoliering Italian roots for his natural ability. I was impressed. But I guess I should have expected nothing less from the man whose middle name might as well be "The Perfectionist."

The rain didn't stay away entirely, and unfortunately, our punt didn't come with any patriotic umbrellas. We had to tough it out.

The rain wasn't the only thing that went wrong. There were tons of people on the river, and we had the privilege of laughing at/with several of them. This poor guy's pole had gotten stuck, and he forgot the cardinal rule of punting - just let go. We heard the splash and then saw him swimming back toward his boat muttering about how cold the water was. I had heard of people falling in before, but had never seen it in person. He was a good sport about it, and his wife thought it was hilarious.

This older gentleman steered his punt right into a weeping willow's branches. His passengers were attempting to free themselves with paddles.

I wish I could say that we were immune to the troubles, but our pole went AWOL on us as well. Luckily, John remembered to let go so he didn't fall in after it. These kind punters behind us picked it up and brought it to us as we floated and waited helplessly in the middle of the river.

Thank you, nice people!

Shortly after recovering our pole, we stopped alongside the King's College green to pick up Riley, our fellow American. He'd just come from printing a presentation poster, and I caught him looking extra mischievous.

While we were stopped, Alberto hopped out of the punt (this action is highly discouraged by "No Mooring" signs all along the river), and I thought it was funny that he looked as tall as the chapel. Sorry for the blurriness, but the perspective still shows through.

When we parked back at the rental docks, we were informed that we would be charged double for violating the terms and agreements. Apparently, our punt was designed with a passenger capacity of 6, and since we picked up Riley, we had 7 on board. Whatever. That's Britain, the land of never-ending rules and the people who love to enforce them. Overall, our venture was fabulous. Punting is such a Cambridge-specific endeavor, and I'm so happy to have shared it with friends and family. Maybe one day Matthew and I can bring some baby Grants back here and make similar memories with them. Hopefully!

Tomorrow and Tuesday I will attempt to recap our Ireland trip in an efficient manner because believe it or not, we are headed to Italy on Wednesday! I know, I know, what a rough life we lead. This is our last traveling shenanigan before heading back to the USA. We are going to Naples to visit family friends and soak up some sunshine. Then, we will officially be out of money and time. Can't believe July has practically arrived. Gotta make the most of these next 14 days!