Met the Big Birdie!

Because of the time change, it really feels like I've spent all day Thursday and all day Friday traveling and waiting. I've seen four airports, three train stations and a least 13 million people.   And Dumbledore driving a boat as the Great Western Rail train taking me to Exeter passed over the river...I'm sure that my lack of sleep and intake of healthy nutrients did not make me imagine that long white beard and large pointy hat on the old man behind the captains wheel. 

The Icelandair flight was quite nice, aside from the loud American who thought it was humorous to loudly say "what?" in increasing volume several times each hour to wake his family, and the rest of the plane. So, I am a bit more tired than I had hoped to be. Upon arrival for my layover in Rekyivek, I had thought I'd get coffee but I opted for water and yogurt just to tide me over in hopes that I could get some sleep on the flight to London.  I found a nice quiet corner of the small airport just to be still and peaceful since my body thought it was 1:30 am. Until four of the loudest (not Americans) humans came and sat right in my space and continued to holler and to laugh and lounge about-at 6:30 AM Icelandic time!!!  I got up and left my previously quiet corner.  I was in no mood to listen to the holler family.  I found a new place next to a sleeping couple-that was more my speed. Soon enough there was a mob of people in the terminal with no real order- and no chairs either.  When they called our boarding, it was a bit like cows being called to feed.  A mad push toward the gate.  Much to my surprise, we walked outside and up the gateway stairs into the plane.  It was a touch windy and cold! 

 Iceland is an amazing place to see the northern lights, and Icelandair replicates that on its planes above the baggage hold with the magic of LED lights.  Awwww, science.  I also had an empty middle seat so I could stretch out a bit. I zonked out on that flight as it was finally quiet.  I made it into, through, and out of Heathrow in lightening speed.  So fast in fact, that I was able to catch an earlier train out of Paddington to Exeter.  Paddington was a mad house.  I forgot it was Easter weekend.  The train, although earlier than the one I had originally planned, was running late and when it was finally announced it was another mad dash to the platform.  It's all a bit confusing if you are not familiar with it.  I had bought a supersaver ticket which is good only at certain times of the day, and did not have a reserved seat--like GA at the baseball stadium.  

But, the first car I got on had all these little tickets sticking up from the seats which Libby had told me meant they were reserved seats.  Of course, I didn't see the tickets until I had slung my suitcase up on the luggage rack at the car entry, dropped my drink, and my purse, and gathered everything back up to turn around to see those damn tickets sticking up.  So, I sheepishly turned around, already having apologized for holding up the line and said "I believe I'm in the wrong car because all of these..." And was interrupted by a stuffy uppity British man in a Kelly green blazer with light yellow pin stripes.  He loudly said, " do you think we could pass by already?"  I finished my sentence apologizing that I would have to get off because these were reserved seats, and I did not have a reserved ticket.  Turns out, neither did old Mr. Crotchety. So here we both are in the lowly peasant rail car. Ha! 

After passing sheep, horse, swan, kayakers, farm land, scrap metal processing yards, beautiful steepled churches, a plethora of chimney adorned roofs that would make Mary Poppins proud, and through some absolutely movie worthy train stations, I arrived at Exeter St David's a little worse for wear but oh so giddy to see my happy healthy beaming big Jayhawk birdie! 

I had a quick shower, met two of her flat mates and took a whirlwind walking tour of the town of Exeter-all on about four hours of sleep. My lovely Jayhawk birdie took me out to a proper pub for Good Friday fish and chips to fill my reserves for tomorrow.  She has big plans for us, so I am told.

 As I sign off for tonight, it's right at quitting time in the USA and  9 pm in merry old England.  For this old bird, it's bed time.  I think I've earned this sleep.  

Wait, wait, wait! No sleep 'till (Exeter!)

Two days ago the world gasped in horror when the terrorist bombed the transportation hubs of Brussels.  I found out about it when I started my day in my normal course--by checking Facebook.  The pictures were horrifying, but the reality was a sucker punch in the gut for me.  Libby is studying abroad in England and I was due to set off on an 18 day adventure to visit her on Thursday.  Today is Thursday and I've made it on the first leg of my journey--Kansas City to Boston, non-stop on Southwest. In 24 hours, if all goes as planned, I will be squeezing my girly Easter bunny.

Yes, I am going.  Yes, I think I will be fine.  The odds are ever in my favor.  Seriously.  I was more likely to be harmed driving to the airport in Kansas City than to be the victim of a terrorist attack during my European travels.  And I keep reminding myself of that, because yes, I am frightened.  But I've never been one to shy away from a challenge.  As most who know me will attest, the moment someone tells me it's not possible to do something, I'm going to find a way to do it. I'm not an adrenaline junky.  I don't take unnecessary risks.  I take calculated cautious risks that should result in a beneficial payoff.  Is this trip a risk? Yes.  But it's no more of a risk than I'm willing to take to see my oldest birdie at a university she loves on an adventure of a lifetime and make lifelong memories with her with a very high probability that I will return to my nest to see and be with my boy birdies for the spring and summer.  And with all of us for as long as the good Lord is willing. 

So, what's the plan, Nan?  Well, let me tell you!  After organizing the house sitter, the dog sitter, the cat sitter, stopping the mail, the milk, and making sure that the bills were all paid up while I was gone, I picked up the house-for the most part-and caught a ride with my mom to kci.  Yesterday it was 75 or so degrees-until it wasn't.  This morning it snowed.  It was absolutely imperative that I get to Boston because that is officially the start of the international itinerary. So the weather has been on my mind a LOT.  But I am typing this blog entry on board the plane to Boston much to my relief. 

To get to Europe, I found a $775 ticket on Icelandair that got me to London, flies me out of Glasgow Scotland and into Rekyevek  for a five day "layover" before returning to Boston.  If I booked it out of KCI, I had to fly first to Seattle, then back to London-uh, No!  Besides being $400 more expensive it was also 10 hours more in a plane.  Flying out of Denver was an option I considered, but I was worried about the weather when I booked back in Feb and I'm so glad I didn't chose Denver because there was a huge whiteout blizzard that shut the airport down!  So, I got myself to Boston on an 11:30 am Southwest flight with a free ticket (BONUS!).  The only down side is that I have a six hour layover in Boston.  If the weather were better, I would consider going into the city, but I'm not tempting fate.  I will be making do with people watching and eating.  

The next leg is the start of the Icelandair flights.  It leaves Boston at 9:30pm-just as the Jayhawks are playing unfortunately.  But don't worry-I have my red sweater, blue coat, and Jayhawks gems on! I'm hoping the plane has wifi, I can stream it, and it doesn't go into overtime because I'll need some sleep. 

 

The flight will land in Rekyivek at 6:30 am (1:30 am central) and I have another hour and a half layover. I will try to start adjusting to the time difference then with a stiff cup of coffee and breakfast.  Then it is a two and a half hour flight to London, landing at 11:30 local time ( 10:30 am Iceland time-I think, and 5:30 am central time-I think.) 

From London Heathrow, I'll take an express train into London city center to a large station called Paddington (like the bear) where I have a bit of a wait-probably an hour-to catch the 2 pm local time (8 am central-I think) train to Exeter where I should arrive at 4:30pm local time (10:30 am central).  For those keeping track-I needed to arrive at KCI an hour before my 11:30 am flight which meant I left my house at 9:45 am central.  I will literally travel for 24 hours with choppy bits of sleep in four different time zones.  

Once I arrive, we will celebrate good Friday with traditional fish and chips...and an early bedtime for mama Bird! 

The Pathway to Vacation

Wanderlust is a defining part of myself. And because of the insatiable need to see the beauty in our world, I travel.  My travels are typically packed with new activities, beautiful sights, and delicious tastes.  I rarely go somewhere twice.  I typically go during an off season.  I have a distaste for crowds and even more so for tourists.

So how did I find myself back in Myrtle Beach South Carolina during Spring Break when flights are expensive and packed?  I was lured in by peer pressure.  I wanted to give my kids what other parents had given to theirs...the Spring Break Trip.  And I was running out of time. The oldest is in college, the middle is a senior in high school, and the youngest is in primary school-this could possibly be the last time all the Spring Breaks aligned on the calendar! 

I had been to Myrtle Beach several years previous during early October for a golf vacation and had enjoyed myself. We had amazing food, even better golf, and relaxed with a beer and a book.  This sounded like just what we (I) needed.

 The middle changed my plan when he wanted to go on a mission trip with his classmates.  I can forgive this because, after all, this IS his senior year and he's beginning his own journey into adulthood. Its a time in his life that he will look back upon and forever remember the good, the bad, and the ludicrous. The middle substituted helping in soup kitchens, pantries, and other charitable organizations for the slow pace of the beach vacation I envisioned.  I was disappointed not to spend time with him in these dwindling months that he will be tethered to home (and me), but I am very proud of him for his giving spirit. 

I gathered up the remaining of my charges as vacation began after assuring the middle had arrived safely at the airport at 5:30 am-and it quickly became evident that I had gained a responsibility for my mom and my aunt who were also traveling with us.  My mom is a planner-much like me.  But she is also a brooder-something I am not. Mom began asking me almost two weeks in advance what I was going to pack.  At the time, all I knew was "clothes."  This did not satisfy her need to plan.  Eventually (read as the night I packed), I sent her a list and a picture of my intended clothes. Vacation went very much in this path-with me designated as the activity director. 

My aunt, Mary, also went with us on vacation.  She is only a few years older than I am and the bonus baby my Gran and Gramps were blessed to have later in life.  Mary has intellectual and physical disabilities and now lives with my mom.  Mary has taught me many lessons over the years and she was full of them while on vacation. She was so excited to go on Spring Break-it was all she could talk about!  Her nieces and nephews and their children took vacation during Spring Break-to Disney, to baseball spring training, to warm beaches-and now she, too, was going.  It was her excitement and joy at being one of the "in crowd" that made me realize just how frustrated she must be at times by all she wants to do and cannot. 

Mary thrives in structure and predictability, and of course this is the antithesis of vacation.  I was worried about how well and how quickly she would adapt.  Frankly, its something we all struggle with in varying degrees and I think it is why vacations can bring out the "least" in people.  To my surprise and amazement, she adapted to any new twist or turn with relative ease.  She spent time on the beach, she tried new foods, she walked miles, and she enjoyed it all!  It's hard to travel; its harder when you are one of five traveling together. Mary's ability to adapt and her flexibility was a lesson to all of us.

Her greatest joy though was not the sights, the smells, or the sounds of vacation.  The biggest smiles and her most enjoyable moments were the ones she spent just being "with" us.  She was happy to be walk around Adalaya with Libby, to explore the gardens in Charleston with my mom, to watch the basketball games with me, to eat at the Hard Rock Cafe with John.  She honestly and truly enjoyed being with her family.  In that respect, she is just like my Gran. 

She deeply misses my Gran.  I know we all do, but Mary lived with Gran for more than 50 years.  Mary's day to day life was tied to being with my Gran.  While we were on vacation, Mary talked about how her mom would like some activity we were doing; or how her mom sang, too, while cooking; or even when it was time to get up, Mary would say that her mom would have told her to "get going." Mary wanted to share this new adventure with her mom.  She was proud of going on vacation and she felt her mom would be proud of her too.  

And Gran would have been amazed at Mary's resilience and determination! Walking around for miles and encountering strange new places can be difficult and exhausting.  While moving at a slower pace, Mary did everything the group did.  She ate at new places (although almost always ordering a hamburger), she rode in a horse carriage, she walked on the beach looking for shells, she shopped (something she doesn't really enjoy), she toured a historic building, she played games with us, she participated in activities at the resort with us and she even made jokes that made us laugh. 

Since my Gran died and several of my friends have lost parents, I realize I am lucky to still have my mom with me.  Oh yes, she does drive me bananas at times but I think that is part of the job description.  I must drive my own children crazy with my own quirky behavior.  My mom turned more than "29" this year.  Most people find it hard to believe she's "over 29" because she is on the go, active, involved, still working and physically strong.  But I see that she is slowing down. I know she is even more worried at times than is healthy for her.  She needs to talk to me more frequently than ever before. My mom has gone on vacation with us in the past and I hope she will continue to do so, because it is during these times that we can spend some quality time getting to know each other again.  Our lives are so busy, so diverse, and carry so much responsibility that we both strive to make it through the day, week or month in one piece with all the boxes checked.

On vacation and in life, Mary taught me to slow down and enjoy the time with family.  Its not so much about seeing everything or being in the mix of something new, its more about taking the time to talk, to play-to truly enjoy the other person.  Its about being able to adapt to new situations, compromising, and enjoying the sweetness that relationships with family__crazy ones and normal ones__offer to us.  Mary's journey may take a slightly different path than my own, but our desire to be part of the "in crowd," be with family, and enjoy life's blessing is the same at its core. 

Happy 7/11-it's been a journey!

A journey is made up of the unlimited steps we take in a day, a week, and a lifetime. I am blessed that I can add a day or two here and there to my work travels.  I'm also blessed that in most of the locations I go, I have family or friends that willingly spend time with me.

But the most difficult journey is the one I take on my own; the steps forward in life that I make based on my gut and on the facts and circumstances of the moment.  I don't mind, in most circumstances, being alone.  Or I didn't think that I did.

More so than ever, I find myself fearing the journey into the future.  I don't seem to like my forties.  My history no longer is a living history.  My Gran has been gone for many months, yet I hear her voice and her laugh in my head. I hear her tell me that "I do not like it, no I do not" and she spurs me on to do what I must regardless of how difficult the task might be.  I remember to maintain her positive outlook of "Living and Giving" but she's not there to hold my face, kiss my forehead and transfer her confidence in me to me.  My Aunt Lee is no longer there to fry the taco shells while my Gran makes the taco meat and grates the cheese for the huge family dinners that were boisterous, crowded, and delicious. Birthdays aren't celebrated with Aunt Lee's birthday cakes and Grans bellowing and off-key rendition of Happy Birthday. Graduations aren't punctuated with her smiling pride in her off-spring's accomplishments. 

 What is missing is her impact on my future, because she's not in my present.  My Gran was my emotional reservoir I visited when I needed to regain my peace. Now, I'm flying solo.  My oldest is becoming a strong and compassionate leader among her peers with a strong unwavering faith in God, much like my Gran.

My middle is bewilderingly smart, empathetic, and fascinating. For the past year, my big gained an unprecedented independence at college.  In a year, both will be gone from my nest and my day to day life.  My little soon turns into a teen and it will be just the two of us at home-or rather me struggling to keep up with him as he creates his high school career.  

I find myself fearing the increasing quiet and solitude that is coming.  I ask myself if I will fill my time in ways that fill my heart and bring me joy or if I will bury myself in noble pursuits- like work?  Will my children desire to spend time with me after working so hard to separate from me as teens? Will I survive not being their first thought and caregiver?  

My large, loud, laughing childhood family of 24 cousins, 13 aunts and uncles, five grandparents, and 24 great aunts and uncles has dwindled to a trickle of people.  My cousins are flung across the country; I don't know their children very well, and haven't even met a few of them. My aunts and uncles have grandchildren now, and I am not in the hustle and bustle of their celebrations.  I have no grandparents left.  My great aunts and uncles can be counted with just a few fingers. My only niece and nephew were "lost" in my divorce.  I've gone from a family that needed a small circus tent for family reunions to one that could gather in a motel bathroom with plenty of room remaining. 

The changes are part of the journey, I know. I try to accept them with grace but they are difficult. Being alone was never on my "bucket list", after all.  My Gran had great faith that everything would work out just the way God planned.  I try to follow her lead. 

The steps of the last nine months have been a winding and difficult journey navigating unchartered waters without my Gran as my compass.  I do not like it, no I do not!  But I know she is with me still in the little ways that bring me peace, steer me in the right direction, and keep me on course.  I wish her a very happy, heavenly, birthday and I look forward to spending it with my family-whether in a circus tent or the motel bathroom-because gathering to enjoy our family is the greatest gift she gave to me. Happy Birthday, Gran. May we all raise a toast on 7-11!

The End of the Journey, the Beginning of Everlasting Life.

Life is about the journey, right?  The way in which one travels the journey is the outward expression of ones most inner thoughts.  A happy outside facade would generally mean a happy inside person.  I know it is possible to fake it until you make it_i've done it_but if one is consistently smiling and happy on the outside I truly believe one is happy and at peace in one's heart. Today I had the personal displeasure to attend two funerals.  (If you count the Grammys last night, I also attended one mass wedding-I think there is a movie in there!) It was a sorrowful morning celebrating the lives of two people in two stages of their lives. 

The services couldn't have been more different, but were strangely similar.  The first was for my great Aunt.  She was in her nineties and had made her peace with the earthly life.  She was and had been ready to pass on for some time.  Her service was a traditional Catholic funeral mass.  Her casket was draped by my mom and by her sister with the tradional white cloth that signifies the deceased life in Christ, it was sprinkled with holy water in remembrance of baptism, and a crucifix was placed upon the casket. There were bible readings and prayers and the holy communion. The familiar and predictable was a comfort. The priest gave his homily about the unknown of the next world and the comfort in the known of the earthly world, but that the true joy and celebration comes from entering the Kingdom of God. The church was peaceful in its simple architecture.  The participants were few in number and close in heart.  When you outlive nearly all your seven siblings and their spouses, there aren't many left to attend your final celebration. My Aunt worked all her life in the accounting department of several companies. She cared for her nieces and nephews although she didn't have children of her own.  She was stoic and resolute, but wanted only the absolute best for you and from you. In the last few years, my youngest visited her often and he always left her with a kiss.  It was in these brief moments that her heart was bare and open. I saw her in a different light; she simply relished being loved by another human being. In some ways, I'm very much like her.  I keep people at a distance and I have firm ideas of what works and what doesn't_but when I am kissed and hugged by my children I relish the love that washes over me.  It is in that moment that I have no doubts, no fear, and no regrets. 

The second funeral was for an employee's father.  She is so young and has a one year old daughter. Her father was a military man and had a great love of his country and his family.  I think of all the milestones he will miss, and I know how grateful my young employee must be that her daddy was able to dance with her at her wedding and to see his first grandchild. His service was not based in a religion but based in a faith in God and the everlasting Kingdom.  There were no familiar sequence of events to to bring peace to the difficult time.  She struggled to remain collected.  When the time came she gave a moving euology of her dad_her hero_and found the humor her dad had taught her to find in difficult situations. She reflected on all she had learned from him_most notably the flexibility to find happiness and opportunity in all that life dishes out. I never met him, but he has a terrifically smart and kind daughter who most obviously grew under her father's tutelage.  His service was attended by so many that there was an overflow room, and yet it was still standing room only.  He was a member of the Patriot Guard Riders. At the invitation of the family, the group attends the funeral of military, police, and fire service men and women.  Although not a requirement, the majority of them are motorcycle riders.  His colleagues attended in full force. The rooms were over flowing with leather chaps and vests, do-rags, steel tipped boots and military regalia. These men and women rode their motor bikes in the sub freezing weather to honor their deceased ride captain.  For at least an hour, they created a path from the parking lot to the front door lined with men and women standing at attention. Inside, there were at least 25 or more riders.  The chapel was full of Patriot Guard Riders and Combat Veterns Motorcycle Association members. These are tough men and women with very tender hearts. The rooms were also over flowing with tears. Tears at the loss each one of us felt. 

Her dad was about the age of my grandfather when he passed away_also far too young with so many milestones ahead of him.  His service reminded me of everything and everyone that has left me during my adulthood. My Aunt was ready to go on. My employees dad wanted to stay. My Aunt struggled for so long in uncomfortable health. My Grandmother passed so quickly that I was not prepared., but she did not suffer in pain for long.  My employee was devastated by the loss of her dad.  Her dad was strong; she is strong; my Aunt was very strong and my Grandmother was strong. I know I am strong although at times I wonder if I can do it all. 

We all will find the pleasure in life again, both earthly and heavenly. In the last five months, I have attended four funerals.  I can honestly say, I'm done.  I am weary. I seek the refuge of funny happenstance and the joy of the simple. In this journey of life, we rarely get what we want.  But we must be strong enough to fight on in the face of adversity and flexible enough to be open to the possibilities before us. May all the angels in heaven watch over us, both the experienced and the new. 

European shopping restraint

Shopping in Europe, at least in Munich, Paris, and London, is an exercise is restraint.  Not restraint on my part, but restraint by the shop. Whether you are shopping for food items, make up, dishes, textiles, or even clothes, the selection is limited. When we walk into a US Target or a grocery store or department store, there are a million and one options in each category.  Need pasta? There are 16 types of the flour and water mashed up combination made by at least four or five brands taking up 10 feet of space times five shelves.  There is A LOT of pasta options. 

Walk into the typical shop in Europe and the entire shop could fit in the cafe area of most Targets. The shop will have pasta, but it is likely to be three types made by two brands, if you are lucky. And there won't be 30 or 40 packages of each type; there may be five or so packages of each type. The result is that you find what you need and use it, rather than hoarding more than you can use in a relatively short time. 

The shop must make decisions about what it's consumers will need and want because space is at premium. After all, in the remaining space the shop must fit the entire grocery store worth of categories.  The small Euroean shop has all the same items the gigantic American store has, just less of every item. 

This phenomena holds true across the board. The only stores I found that resembled an American way of shopping where the large high end department stores like Selfridges in London.  Inside this store, there were lots of options taking up lots of floor space with a lot of area between racks. Most shops were boutique size requiring me to say "excuse me" to the three or four people jammed into the bathroom stall sized space just to get to the next rack. 

In Paris, we arrive just in time for the Soldes! InJanuary the Parisians have their mega sales. From what I could tell this event is on par with the American after thanksgiving mad rush. The sales begin with 50% off and by the time we left 5 days later, the discounts had increased to 70%.  Because I am very frugal (aka cheap), I got pretty excited by this prospect.  However, the starting price of clothing is ridiculous.  Levi jeans were priced in excess of 200€ ($250). I saw a pair of jeans in a very small boutique near the Louvre for 649€! Suddenly, I understood why the Europeans have one of everything and generally in black or brown. 

Paris is the land of black, white, gray, and browns.  Honestly, the Champes Élysées was a sea of people in black. If there was any color, it was a scarf or on rare occasions a sweater or coat. It was easy to stick out like an American with all our colors unless you consciencously  decided to leave your colors behind. London was more eclectic with its color choices-meaning they actually wear colors! 

There are the American shops on the Champes Élysées , including the Gap, Abercrombie & Fitch, but my favorite was Sephora.  It was GIGANTIC!  It was beneath our hotel, and was twice as big as any I had seen in the US.  We went inside to fight the crowd, but I will admit I was disappointed because aside from the language being spoken, it was exactly the same.  It seems that Parisans take their beauty very seriously and that the way to go is to make it as American as possible! 

There were some super extravagent shops for cars! 

And of course, I stopped to window shop in Paris:

And in London:

In London I found the most gigantic nespresso store:

However, my big shopping purchase was baby spoons for coffee and hot chocolate and comfort pads for my shoes.  

By necessity Libby purchased (well, I purchased for Libby) a great luggage set which we got at a tremendous deal! And it's a great dance partner-nothing beats suitcase dancing in the hallways of one's hotel.

Shopping is a dance-a dance to find the right item at the right price.  Libby and I danced and danced our way through Paris and London. Life is really a dance too_find the right item at the right cost_for me I found the trip of a lifetime with my only daughter after saving a little bit every day for four years. It costs me a tiny bit each day for the ultimate 12 day item at a value I loved_priceless. 

Living it up in London.

Our big Saturday night in London consisted of walking about in Piccadilly circus_the London Times Square_finding China Town for a bite to eat, stopping for a brew in an English pub, and walking for miles.

My long time friend from "Uni"_a short-hand term for University_met us in London.  She lives north, in Scotland, somewhere near Aberdeen. She flew into London and played tour guide.  This was a nice relief for me because after so many days of doing the unknown, it was getting a bit tiresome to be in charge.  It was quite nice to rely on another to put the plans into place.  Our first venture was a walk past Big Ben, to the tube and up into Piccadilly Circus. And a circus, it was!!!  Traffic going every which way, people everywhere, and signs that light the area up to a mid-day glow. We were still in the hunt for a suitcase for Libby to replace the one broken during journey in the Chunnel. We stopped in a number of places, comparing selection, price, and utilitarianism. Our shopping brought us to Traflager Square.  Also crowded with people, the car traffic is limited to the outside borders.  

Here we ran into a "hen party." This is the British equivalent of a bachelorette party, except all ages are included_well, all of drinking age_grandmothers, aunties, and the peers of the celebrated bride.  It appears that it is custom or at least trendy to dress in the same costume.  These girls all had pink tutus, pink balloons, and sashes. 

Note the cigarette in the hand of the gal in the picture above?  This was a curious thing in Europe, they still smoke, although it is banned inside buildings, but not in pubs. On each box there is a big sticker that simply says "smoking kills." Apparently, this marketing effort is lost on the folks abroad as well. 

In Traflager square sits a Swiss clock that would be called a glockenspiel in German.  On the hour it plays a tune in bells and has characters that move about.  It was very fun to see and reminded me of my time in Germany. It originally was inside a building on the square, but the M&M megaplex of a store replaced it with a giant disco ball and the clock was relocated into the square itself. 

Notice the McDonald's? Yes, the McDonald's and the M&M store face each other on the square.  America is oozing out of our borders, but clearly not with our best foot. 

Up from the square is London's China Town complete with red lanterns strung across the old granite cobble streets. 

It is a busy place with cafés and restaurants full to the brim and lines out the door.  In each of the shop fronts, chickens or ducks hang roasted golden brown. Slightly gross to me, but apparently quite normal here. 

We ate at a buffet so we could try many things.  London Chinese cuisine does not have Crab Rangoon, but they have these things I used to call crabby chips when we lived in Germany. (Also no Crab Rangoon in Germany.) They are white styrofoam looking chips that have a hint of prawn flavor.  Mostly, they are devoid of taste in my opinion. 

Filled up on London style Chinese food we travelled to the be-all-end-all location for me. Selfridges.  If anyone has been watching the same named show on the BBC, you will know that this store was opened in the early 1900's by an American businessman.  He, at least according to the BBC show, revolutionized the shopping experience.  At a time when products were put behind counters and were brought to you by the store staff based upon their recommendations, he put the merchandise out on display for the consumer to touch, view and decide upon. He also moved the perfume counter to the front and center of the entry into the store rather than hidden on the floors below.   It was not proper for a lady of the time to openly purchase make-up or perfume so one did it "on the down low." 

In the show, the building is grand and glorious.  The building is still beautiful on the outside. 

but the beautiful staircase and ornate woodwork inside is now missing.  It is a big glaring loud mess, even with the perfume counter being front and center.  Look around my photobombing daughter for a view of the harshness of the lighting, colors etc. As if they are trying to apologize, take a look at the entry which retains its original wood and metal work. *sigh* 

It is a monstrous building though, and does have an enormous food hall. A food hall is a combination of high end market and cafe style high end food court. I saw everything from macaroons to sushi. In the picture below, the tiled floor is the food hall. 

After miles of walking and browsing, we stopped at a pub for a pint. Libby is of drinking age in Europe which allowed her to join us in our festivities.  How lovely that she and I shared her first experience at a bar together, thank you Lord. 

In the pub, even if you are ordering food, you go to the bar to order.  Libby word not order for us, so mom saved the day by ordering a Stella for her and a Guinness for me.  My friend had a wine, which was poured from a tap!  Boxed wines have a new found respectability for me. 

A Guinness in Europe is very different from one in the states. I have concluded that it must not travel well.  I do not like Boddingtons in the US, but I do like Guinness.  The Guinness I had at the pub did not have the strong after taste and the head was much much creamier.  Libby did not care for it at all, however. 

Since we had fortified ourselves with the grain of life, albeit in liquid form, we set forth on our return journey "home" to the hotel, stopping along the way for an obligatory selfie of all of us. 

Please overlook the triple chin-I haven't mastered the selfie yet.  But I am quite in love with my Downton style hat! 

It was a fabulous evening with my KD sisters (one of which is also my real life daughter.) The lesson of the night is that the friends one makes in Uni are friends that will see you through life.  Even if you aren't super close in Uni, there is a bond that transcends time and distance.  I am grateful for all my friends, those near and dear and those far and fabulous.  Each of you make my life richer. Cheers!