One Lovely Leibold...

London wows me. I still get really excited when I get to go. It's just a different kind of butterflies than those of my inaugural visit, but butterflies nonetheless. I feel more comfortable there than I did at first, and I know I haven't even begun to scratch the surface of what the city has to offer. But it's amazing to me that it hasn't lost one bit of its shock value. I cherish when a first-timer comes to town, and I have the pleasure of revealing the city one breath-taking sight after another.

Enter Miss Meghan Leibold, one of my best friends since 9th grade. That's going on 8 years now! Geez. She has always been near and dear to me. She accepted Matthew into our circle from the beginning, and I believe she holds the women's record for number of "man points" (bestowed upon her by our male group of friends.) On top of that highest accolade, she is interning at the International Criminal Court in Nairobi this summer. Hence the reason she was able to stop by for a long layover on her way to Africa! We had the best time tooling around London and Cambridge, and I gobbled up every second of our interaction. Since living in relative isolation from my closest friends, I have learned to appreciate how easily we can pick back up right where we left off. 

Of course, we hit all the iconic landmarks right off the bat.

And got as close as we could (without paying admission) to the important historical locations. Like this one - the door at Westminster Abbey where Kate entered to walk down the aisle on her wedding day. (The man in the striped tie standing over Meghan's shoulder said he was there inside the gate when Kate stepped out of her car. Lucky dog.) Queen Elizabeth II was also crowned in this Abbey 60 years ago this week.

Even after visiting these places multiple times, I see or learn something new with each return. Due to an ordeal with Meghan's lost luggage, the fact that she was running on a jet-lagged night of almost zero sleep, and the fact that I had been up since the wee hours of the morning, we were tired after our half a day of walking. So, on our way through Trafalgar Square and down the Mall toward Buckingham Palace, we took a pit stop in St. James's Park. Because the weather was nice (according to British standards), there were lawn chairs set up in all the green spaces. We took full advantage of these little beauties, paid £1.50 for an hour's rental time, and dozed off to the sounds of nature.

And I found these gorgeous things near the park path. I don't know what kind of flowers they are, but they have popped up in Cambridge as well. How delightful.

Refreshed from our power snooze, we completed our pilgrimage to the palace. I had forgotten that the Jubilee concert would be happening, and the preparations were well under way.

Bizarre to see scaffolding and bleachers here.

We walked around to the side of the palace gate to try and get a different perspective of the place. Can you imagine looking out your front window and seeing hoards of camera-toting tourists staring back at you?

Obligatory pic in front of the place. Taken by a girl who saved Meghan from a bee that landed on her head. Isn't Meghan so festive in her red coat?

Yet another detail that I had failed to notice in the bazillions of times I've been to Buckingham Palace. This is the center gate. Do you think there's really a key for that keyhole or that it's just for show?

From there, we decided there was enough time left in the day to wander through the market on Portobello Road. I don't think Meghan would mind me telling you that she is an antique fanatic. Most of her furniture has that super cute, shabby chic quality. Her college apartment reminded me of a classier version of the apartment on Friends. Unfortunately, her luggage was already past capacity so she couldn't really purchase anything. But luckily, she had the African open air markets to look forward to, and those will be far less budget-busting. Though I am the one with an interior decorating degree, Meghan came up with a brilliantly creative idea for me at my favorite Portobello store, Stumper & Fielding. I bought a canvas tote bag with the store logo on it, and I was really excited to add it to my collection of tote bags. (I seriously have so many. It's a problem.) But then, Meghan had the brilliant idea of turning the bag into a throw pillow! Genius! If I keep up with blogging once we get to Houston, I'll have to do a DIY tote-to-pillow post.

How I adore Notting Hill.

And how I deeply relish cakes from Ottolenghi, the best bakery in Notting Hill. (PS- Another reason I treasure weekend trips with girlfriends: eating cake and drinking tea on your hotel bed while gossiping and watching tv.)

Having depleted our energy reserves, Meghan and I settled in for the night at our hotel in Kensington. Her bags finally arrived (thank you, British Airways), and we slept soundly. The next morning, we justified buying ourselves some Starbucks drinks because that would likely be the last time Meghan would have one until she got back to the States. No Starbucks in Nairobi. Plus, we needed fuel for our impending Harrods extravaganza.

As always, when I received my beverage, I found out that my name had changed to Chelsea. Until I moved here, I didn't know how American "Kelsey" is. When I introduce myself, I consistently get funny looks and have to repeat myself.

Meghan and I sat on a bench in front of the Natural History Museum to drink our lattes and eat our leftover cake. Yeah, we had cake for breakfast. Clearly, we were worried about our caloric intake. I accidentally laughed too loudly as a little boy walked by and exclaimed in all sincerity (and with the cutest accent ever), "MUMMY, I LOVE DINOSAURS!" He whipped around and shot a death glare at me because he thought I was making fun of him. And I proceeded to feel guilty for the rest of the day, thinking that I had probably just scarred him for life and derailed his dreams of being a paleontologist.

Down the street, we finally arrived at Harrods. On Sundays, you can begin browsing at 11:30am, and we got there early enough to join the eager crowds waiting for the doors to open. I gotta hand it to them, Harrods knows how to execute a window display. Especially for the Jubilee. I would probably pass out if presented with the chance to design their windows. Maybe someday?

I had wanted to go to an exhibit at the Victoria & Albert Museum entitled, "Ballgowns: British Glamour since 1950." But then I was glad that I could drool over the dresses at Harrods for free.

There were dozens of shadow box windows with replicas of the crown jewels manufactured by the various high end designers and vendors. This turquoise number was the Tiffany & Co. take version of the monarch's headpiece.

With the permission of the Queen's dressmaker, Harrods even procured a replica of her coronation dress.

Look at all those pearls and beads! I bet that thing was heavy!

Harrods was just as whacky and fabulous as I remembered. We saw the puppies for sale on the top floor, floated past the diamonds and fine jewelry, and perused the significantly downsized Harry Potter area. I was shocked we made it out of there without buying a single trinket. Alas, all good things must come to an end. Time to jump on the Tube and check off the rest of our touristy to-do list!

Near Piccadilly Circus.

Union Jacks were flying everywhere to celebrate HRH. I loved how extra-British London was on this short trip.

Probably the best picture I've ever gotten of a Tube stop.

Can't believe I've never ridden on one of these buses. Should probably do that before we leave. I think our Oyster cards work for the buses in addition to the Tube.

I've walked past this grouping of phone booths at least a dozen times and never noticed how charming they are.

When approaching the National Gallery, Meghan and I recognized the emblem of some uniformed band members. Could these Trojans really be the ones from the University of Southern California? Indeed they were! I guess they are the only Grammy-winning marching band to perform in every Olympic city, so they were in London on a touring circuit. What a coincidence! If only Reuben had stayed in town. He's going to USC next year to finish up his Master's program.

A massive crowd gathered in Trafalgar Square to enjoy the show. They were really getting into it! Never in my life have I wanted so badly to be sitting in a football stadium cheering on my team. I almost teared up for nostalgia's sake. Such a clash of my worlds on those steps.

This street artists seemed rather annoyed by the presence of the peppy American college kids. "Yo, I'm trying to make a statement here for world peace. I cannot be bothered by all that racket."

I probably could have stuck around and wept in found commemoration of my bygone glory days, but we had an organ recital to attend. Down the Strand!

Again, here was another photo op I had walked past a dozen times before. I thought these buildings captured an intriguing era of Britain.

We made it to St. Paul's on time for the afternoon recital. It was a thoroughly hypnotizing rendition of ... zzzzz. Yeah, everyone fell asleep. At one point, I looked down my row and there were 10 people slumped over, eyes closed, mouths agape. And that was just my row! These Sunday performances are still a great way to get inside the dome free of cost.

Shortly thereafter, we heard Cambridge calling. We checked out of our hotel, made a quick stop at Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross, and barely made the fast train home. While we were waiting in the Tube, Meghan was taking a picture of the subway signs. I have grown so accustomed to seeing the words "Way Out" to indicate an exit, that I forgot how strange it was when we initially arrived.

More sophisticated than a big red "Exit" sign, huh? But each country has its own way. The French "Sortie" is fancy. And the Greek "Exodus" was cool too.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention! We were leaving London at about the same time that the Chelsea football fans were. Chelsea had just won the Champion's League, and their supporters were going berserk. Insane. A drunk and disorderly man touched my face after making several inappropriate references to Meghan. He was like ten sheets to the wind, and his accent was severely slurred and thick. His wife (also wasted) almost got into a fist fight with a passenger who told her that "women of her age" should know how to act with some decorum. Insulting, entertaining, and frustrating all at once.

By the time Meghan and I made it to our flat, Matthew had cooked us a delicious dinner of garlic chicken and quinoa. Once again, he had done laundry in my absence and even set up Meghan's bedroom for her. How did I end up with such a catch? I'm a lucky girl. Later that night, we Skyped with Caleb, and words cannot describe how blissful it was for the four of us to be reunited. Our bond is a special one.

The next day, Matthew took a break from writing his thesis to get us into all the colleges. We determined that Meghan was good luck because it never rained on us, and the college porters were unusually agreeable.

I've now seen The Bridge of Sighs in sun, snow, and surrounded by flowers. I think the flowers might be my favorite.

Yay for sharing our temporary home with friends.

Trinity College was especially lush.

And King's looked like a fake backdrop. Must have been the camera flash.

Aww, I miss her already.

Before I knew it, Meghan was Kenya bound. I was sad to see her go, but also excited for her to start the next chapter of her own adventure. And I couldn't mope around too long because we were leaving the same night to fly to Geneva. Hubs and I are packing pros these days.