Saturday in the Park (every other day too)

The people from last year's program raved about Hyde Park but I really couldn't see what the big deal was. I mean, it's a park. We have parks in Provo. (I think I was picturing a big swing set with the royal crest.) Next topic, please.

But oh no. It is not a park. It is a people watching and relaxing place with sun and shade for optimal temperature control and even a few bugs, but they're British bugs which makes it slightly cooler to squash them. I go to Hyde Park most days. Me and my journal, or me and my roommate . We talk only of the most important things--our feelings on baldness, if we'll ever feel grown up, what we would do to have a Frisbee and put on the best game of Ultimate London has ever seen.

So, when you come to this city of cities, hit the museums and catch the shows, but by all means go to the Park.

Picture compliments of Lyndi. Hyde Park is also a good place to eat Ritter Sport chocolate and pretend to be doing homework while you take artsy pictures. Lots and lots of artsy pictures.

Borough Market

I think Borough Market is my favorite place after Hyde Park. And the British Library. And Westminster... Well, it's up there.

Basically, it's an international Costco (free tasters!) but better--olives, artichoke hearts, weird cheese from Wales, falafel, olive oil, candied fruits, honeycomb dipped in chocolate, cinnamon cider... It's a feast for the eye as well as much as anything and the only difficulty is choosing between the potatoes dripping cheese, the piping Cornish meat pies, or fish and chips.

My roommates and I have already been here twice. Lyndi strategically moves throughout the stalls and tastes everything until she's ready for purchases; I follow her until I get impatient with testing and buy whatever catches my eye next. For dessert, I go with the densest brownies on the face of the planet (4 American dollars and worth every penny... or pence) or a bag of chocolate covered hazelnuts and oranges. My advice: stay away from the Welsh cheese. Took an entire falafel to get the taste out of my mouth.

Great Expectations...

The great philosopher Mark Twain said a thing long expected takes the form of the unexpected when at last it comes. And, as usual, he has it about right.

I'm in London now. I didn't expect the cherry soda to taste like cough syrup and I didn't expect it to rain every time I step out of the flat wearing sandals without my umbrella. Statistically, I think this is impossible but my drenched jeans say otherwise.

But I also didn't expect the rhythm of rain on the Thames, or the involuntary gasp when I saw Handel and the Brontes at Westminster, or the mental happy dance whenever someone calls me "love" and I realize all over again that I'm in London and the time is now.

You know in movies (well, chick flicks) when the protagonist goes to a faraway place but somehow discovers herself and they have the montage of music and foreign images while she walks the streets? (Think Sabrina.) Today that was me, and the song was "Black Balloon."

For the record: I'm spending 6 weeks in London with BYU study abroad and my friend Daniel pretty much forced me to do this blog. Over and out.