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Alone.
We are born alone, and we will die alone. This saying will fill some with horror and some with peace. While your first reaction says a lot about how comfortable you are with yourself, let me not get ahead of myself. The feelings elicited from this saying can hinge on how we look at the word alone. Some see alone for what it is, being solo, some see it exclusively as lonely. In my brain, there is a vast chasm of difference, and it really changes the course of our lives on how we live this out. Today, I took myself on a date. It had been a while since I’d chosen to go out and have a day on my own. When I first moved abroad, I had no choice but to take myself out all the time, and unintentionally, that’s where I discovered more of who I was. Now that I have a community of people around me to do life with, I find I have to intentionally have a date with Hayley. Looking back at my life from a birds-eye view, moving abroad was the culmination from a childhood of wanderlust and passions gathering kindling and a transformational and eye-opening 4 years at university that lit the match. One summer in Europe and a year in NYC of ups and downs forced me into this decision: I chose not to see my company as loneliness, but to enjoy solitude. Lonely tends to bend towards unwanted seclusion, wanting companionship desperately. This is a totally normal human experience and we all go through it. It’s in times of loneliness where we examine ourselves, and can go to deep places in our minds. It’s these times that I believe can determine how we feel about ourselves. I read something recently that you will never have more conversations with anyone else but yourself in your head, and that’s really the truth of it. Am I ok with my loneliness? Will I accept it, figure out who I am through it? Or will I distract myself, and paint over it all, find a partner or vice or career that will numb me to myself and what’s going on in my head? Will I deny I’m lonely, or deny how it makes me feel? Will I deny myself a glimpse into knowing myself, to grow and blossom and be aware of who I am, which actually takes lots of time being alone? These questions are the make or break point that changes our perception on what it means to be alone, and whether or not we will embrace it. You have to be comfortable with yourself, know your identity as a person inside and out, and actually be able to say you like yourself. The thoughts in my head will never quite articulate themselves correctly onto the page, but there’s such beauty in that, right? We have to be aware of our strengths, weaknesses, skills, and interests, but also our darker recesses we usually try to deny to ourselves. They all contribute to who we are and what choices we make, and so the beauty about you is you know you best. I realized quite early on in adulthood that I had lots of curiosities and passions that I wanted to explore, and since I’m an introvert and only in the last few years have become more extroverted, I saw I just had to nurture my interests and learn new things on my own steam. That meant traveling, going to museums and experiences, eating out, and ultimately, living, all on my own. Solitude is a powerful word. For me, it’s ultimate freedom- doing what I want to do and knowing my own mind without other’s influence, while still being open minded. It’s self-sufficiency. It’s liking my own company. It’s not being afraid to have a whole day, or even week, or longer to myself. Solitude is where we speak to ourselves, without the influence of outside forces, and decide everything about who we are. Solitude is a great gift that I believe few cherish and many discount way too soon. Today, I took myself on a date. I went to an old historic manor house to see a small exhibition of my favorite artist. I took in the paint, the plaques, the brushstrokes, and the energy. I bought myself lunch and ate it alone on a bench while people-watching. I went into a few second-hand bookshops and bought a few books. I walked across a sprawling lawn, spread out a blanket, and read and rested for a few hours. I walked to a pergola with blooming flowers, and smelled in the divine natural scents. I found another bench and rested for a while. I walked into a village area teaming with people, walked through narrow streets and bopped into shops. Then I came home. Some of my fondest memories, and most rewarding for sure, are the ones where I was alone. Because when you make the effort to know yourself, you realize how great of a time you can be. A good friend once told me that no one cares about what you do or how you look more than yourself. We are all selfish creatures. While some might stare and judge for a second, they will soon forget and go back to thinking about themselves. That advice hit me at just the right place and time in my life, as these things tend to, and it changed my outlook on how I go about my every day. Take yourself on a date. Worried about people looking at that person sitting alone? They don’t care as much as you think, but more importantly, what do you think about yourself, sitting there on your own? I bet it will feel better than you think. If you are new to the game, take a book or journal as a crutch. Order a drink or a bite to eat. Write how you feel. Immerse yourself in a story. Sit with your eyes closed and think. People watch, but not too closely. Mull over life’s big questions and where you stand on them. Write it down. Take yourself for a walk. Learn who you are, and if you don’t like yourself, start working on who you’d like to be. Practice a bit of solitude, and soon you will see the beauty of you. My “brand”, if you want to call it that, or rather general life aesthetic and motto when I have been designing and sewing for the last 10 years is Alleine. It’s German for alone, and I have always identified with it as a word and thought it was beautiful rolling off the tongue. For me, Alleine was making garments for the confident, independent, and self-sufficient woman who knows herself and what she is capable of on her own. We are born alone, and we will die alone. But alone is not bad, it’s where you get to know you.
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 The incredible clifftop spot at Pendeen Lighthouse, just minutes from our stay. Throughout my adult life, period dramas have been driving inspiration for me to travel, doing internet searches for filming locations of favorite shows. After discovering the popular drama Poldark, set in late 1700s-early 1800s Cornwall, I firmly added the coastal region to my travel bucket list. I had previously heard and seen photos of Cornwall’s natural beauty, remoteness, and considerable history, but once again, as it always is with travel, you must see it to believe it. The main magnetic draw that established in my mind as we hit Kynance Cove, the first spot of incredible coastline seen from our 6.5-hour car journey from London, was the remoteness. It takes being in a car, seeing and feeling the distance from a metropolis to a rugged coastline to grasp the isolation of a location. Flying somewhere can dilute our sense of distance, and while it’s quicker, I can’t recommend enough the long but rewarding drive to the western coast of England, where you feel truly “away” from it all.  Kynance Cove, our first glimpse at coastline and used for filming Poldark. Since traveling to nature destinations in the last two years, I’ve definitely been more balanced in my love of nature vs. city travel. They both offer completely different experiences and emotions, and after being in the Big Smoke since my trip to Austria earlier in the year, it was high time for this getaway. Choosing an Airbnb in the small village of Pendeen was intentional. I wanted to get as far away from London as I could for a bit. You can’t really get any farther, as Pendeen is almost parallel with, and only a 20-minute drive from Land’s End, the westernmost point of the UK mainland. If you look west straight from the point, New York is only a mere 4000-some miles in front of you, with a bit of ocean in between. For a minute, home seemed closer than London. Land’s End’s name is pretty much the feeling you’d think when being there. The rest of civilization feels small while you sit there, with a pint of cider in hand watching the sun set 23 minutes after it already has in London. Such scenery cannot help but induce waves of emotions too, crashing around in your mind like the very waves beneath you. I felt passionate appreciation for the beauty all around me, for the opportunity to be in that place, to embrace a skyline that was woven into the culture and history around it and know that every glance I had at that scenery was a gift not to be taken for granted. A 5-day trip was just a little but intoxicating taste into the slow life of Cornwall. Being in a specific place is the only way to really understand a culture and appreciate how we all are beautifully knit together. On top of the two days of distance travel, we thankfully had wonderful weather to see lots of western Cornwall’s landscapes. First was a trip to St. Michael’s Mount, the famously romantic Island, a-top which sits a castle and church owned by the same family for generations. The island has been a strategic stronghold for centuries, and what adds to its draw is the tidal causeway connecting the island to mainland by foot. Only open for a few hours a day by low-enough tide, this walkway made the Mount feel more ancient, exclusive and remote. Walking up on those sand-washed stones to such a novel-esque sight and ascending the stone steps and cobbled ramps to a fairytale castle with views of surrounding blue and green horizons was the perfect introduction to ancient Cornwall. Such sights can’t help but inspire dreams of perfect peace.  The romantic St. Michael's Mount at low tide, on approach. While the castle and harbor, with its dotted little village buildings and toppled over boats patiently expecting the water to come back in, line the view on from the mainland, the reverse view coming from the sea must truly be a sight. Boats circled the island while we explored, and they would witness one of the most unique vertical gardens I’ve seen. The closest I can compare it to is a mini-Kew; the world-famous Garden in Southwest London. Tight, snake-like paths wove up and down from the high castle walls to the grass level, intricately landscaped with thousands of varieties of cactus, succulent, flowers, trees, vines, and countless plant species. No detail was too little, from large palms to single bud succulents carefully planted into stone cracks. Onlookers from a boat would see an explosion of color to completement the unreal scenery surrounding. It’s as Mediterranean as Cornwall could get. Inside the castle, ancient weapons and paintings as well as family photos mingled to create a blend of history and home, and the cozy feeling that made you realize a castle can still be a place to reside with modern memories. We crossed back minutes before the tide washed in and watched the boats balance back to their use, making the island once again an oasis on the Cornish coastline, romantically remote until the next day. As is typical of a Cornish holiday, the next day was also spent at the seaside, this time in sunny St. Ives. The popular destination is full of beach and harbor views, winding village pedestrian walkways, local artisan shops, gourmet treats, and the inevitable seagull soaring around, waiting to grab your chippies, pasty, or ice cream cone. So often is the occurrence, that there are signs in the shops and around the beaches warning tourists, and making it clear by the businesses that no, you won’t get another one for free.  St.Ives, but feeling very Hamptons St. Ives offered a low tide when we arrived, and immediately we set out to walk barefoot across the rolling sands far out from the harbor and once again, it’s toppled boats. We dipped our feet into the cold but refreshing crystal blue waters. The expanse of melted together blue horizon and waters calmed and reset my brain, and made London melt away from memory. We wound our way through the little streets after, seeking a popular lunch spot recommended to us. Amazingly, we were seated immediately with an incredible waterfront table. I was glad, but immediately thought of the possible gulls descending on my food, so the entire meal was a balance of eating and looking up. After admiring the beach before us, which was a separate cove from the harbor earlier in the day, we went out back onto the sands with a blanket, a book, and had a proper rest. I enjoyed the sun, the sounds, and my current subject matter of the life of Hans Holbein, Henry VIII’s portrait painter. Some passions can’t be left in London. The day promised other goodies, like ice cream, shell shops, and my first Cornish pasty, a famous Cornish delight historically eaten by miners to give them fuel as they worked in dark and cramped mines all day. A pasty traditionally is meat, potatoes, onions, and other veg, in a flaky pastry crust. While many versions of the dish are made today, I kept it traditional and took mine to go. We drove back to Pendeen, sun-kissed and calm, along the striking South West Coastal Path at golden hour. No words can properly relay the lush green fields, separated by ancient stone borders, and dotted with villages, farms, and grazing cattle and sheep, all on rolling hills cut off by a jagged coast, and then nothing but blue. Shivers. We wound our away out to the Pendeen Lighthouse, a few minutes from our humble cottage stay, and were surprised to be mostly alone on a coastal cliff covered in heather and wildflowers as the sun set. We once again laid out the blanket, took out our pasties, and had our dinner with the most fitting view possible. I thought of the thousands of people throughout history that had sat here with their pasties before us. Lovers, friends, families, and wanderers would have watched the endless waves, talked about their lives, and dreamed dreams. It was a moment in time to be cherished, to be grateful to be alive, and to stare in awe across the dotted tin and copper mines from period dramas and real life alike.  Soaking in the unreal scenes just before sunset Rain, inevitably, filled our third day. It didn’t stop us from seeing as much rural areas and more cliff-sides and beaches as we could. The one that struck me the most was famous Holywell Bay, from many a sunset Poldark scene. In the stormy weather, it was another creature. In my yellow rain jacket, I hiked around a dune and was met with a desolate wide expanse of beach. Rain poured and wind roared from every direction. A few locals walked their pooches, but it was mostly empty. The vast beach still carried an unimaginable magic. I’m of the strong opinion that there is equal beauty in the rainy days as the sunny ones, and England is one of the best places on Earth where the rain suits the natural beauty so well. That beach, as many other a place here, is built to be admired by rain as well. The stormy waves crashed onto the sand, creating vivid whitecaps. The sound of the wind hummed its own tune, one of peace and noise in equal fervor. The cliffs took hit after hit of waves from each side, and from steady downpour as well, as if unfazed. Many people would see such sights and run, but all I wanted to do was stay. I was enamored by the convergence of emotions falling over me, and the battering of the weather all around me. It was overwhelming but I was calm. I wanted to run like the wind across that beach. I wanted to dip into the waves like I couldn’t feel the cold. I was becoming soaked by the minute but didn’t feel it as I should. It was the perfect experience of being at one with nature, feeling the deepest connection to a place in time and knowing that feeling would never leave you. Rain is just as beautiful as the sun, and dare I say, more deeply romantic. Cornwall was the perfect escape. It is not a place you easily leave mentally. It’s a state of being, of breathing fresh, of reflecting. Winding one-lane roads lined with hedgerows and stone walls. Sprawling hydrangea bushes are the most beautiful you will ever witness. Cliff sides change your perspective. And like all good things in life, you have to work a bit harder to get there.  On the lookout for Ross Poldark, in an ultimate regency moment for me  One of my top fave photos in London. I can remember how that sunset felt on my face. The moment was golden. While I’m proud to say that most of my resolutions have been fulfilled so far, the one where I write one blog a week has yet to be fulfilled until now. And I think it opportune to start 2023 with my long-awaited London list. I’ve been in London for three years, and I’ve seen and done a lot. While Instagram has been the photographic proof of this journey, it’s high time I also write it all down. So I’m finally doing it- jam packed into one, large list and comprehensive guide. Ok, so that might be overreaching. It’s likely going to have a few parts… Here it is world: Hayley’s London List, Part I. I should start by saying that since I’m inclined towards the history, arts, culture, and creative side of things, the list is long, and catered to my tastes and interests. London has a plethora of these topics. Not everything will be for you, but I hope you can pick and choose to make your own way about when you visit, or even see your own backyard differently, fellow Londoners! There’s lots to see that makes this city the best in the world- touristy or not. (And p.s.- the touristy bits are (almost) all totally worth it too- London wouldn’t be London without them!) I think it fitting to start with a few icons- the Tower of London and Tower Bridge. Fittingly, these are the beginning of my recommended walking tour for anyone, Londoner or first-time tourist alike, to see many of the top sights- in one afternoon if you are smacked for time. Situated right next to each other, these two landmarks form the most incredible marriage into the historic skyline, and what makes it all the more incredible is that they are not similar in age at all. While the Tower dates from 1066 and William the Conqueror (more on that in a minute), the Bridge is from the late 1800s- a staggering 800 years apart. The Bridge looks older, and you naturally assume it is due to the grey stone medievalesque towers that blend so well with the Tower, but the steel blue beams are what give it away as a product of the Industrial Revolution. This perfect cohesion of old and new, and its placement next to one of the oldest and most historic places in the world, is what makes this site and these two structures beyond captivating and enthralling to us now, and throughout time. While I will continue with the walking tour in a bit- I want to give the Tower it’s moment. I could write a whole post just on the tower, but I have decided to keep it short(er) and sweet right here. My advice on the Tower of London: go inside. You will not regret it. Give yourself at least a full afternoon, if not the day. There is something for everyone’s interests. Massive, glorious, and the definition of historic, you enter the Tower through a gate dating back to 1280- from across a bridge over a moat, like we all dreamed about as kids. Already, I’m guessing you are intrigued. You are soon transported into another world. Besides the occasional bin or modern signage, everything you are surrounded by is OLD. Stone archways, stone towers, cobblestone roads, iron gates, stone steps, archers’ peepholes, and ok, the occasional modern drainpipe- but also, ancient ones too. Makes you feel like Friar Tuck and Robin Hood are about to pop around the corner, or maybe even greedy King John. The expert curators guide you through tower by tower, room by room, dishing you story upon story and recreating spaces best to certain times. If those walls could talk, they would have better stories than any of us. The sheer size of the place- including the multiple wall sections, their depth, and and length of wall walks connecting it all would have dwarfed other buildings around it for most of history. Each little bit was added on through time, creating the most incredible architectural wonder of 1000 years, all on one site. At the center of it all is The White Tower, the oldest piece of the puzzle. Built by William the Conqueror, the disputed first officially King of England and the beginning of the monarchy that we have had since, built it as a stronghold in the late 1000s, after he won his throne and united the English nations. Walking up the monstrous wooden steps, and slowly walking through that Tower- I have goosebumps writing this. This Tower has stood for 1000 years much unchanged, with the world and structure that growing and changing all around it. It makes it magnificent and awe-inspiring to all who gaze at it, walk through it, touch the timbers within, and smell the history surrounding it. If that doesn’t do it for you, how do jewels sound? Incredible, rare, shining, and glorious state crowns, tiaras, scepters, orbs, dinnerware, ceremonial pieces of priceless value, most of which are surrounded by people movers, so you don’t breathe on them too long, and so that everyone gets their turn. Hit with glittering lights, every piece sparkles with centuries of glamour and secret conversations we will never know. The space was built to impress. Still not quite your cup of tea? In the courtyard, which as it happens is gorgeous and tranquil, a spot marks the countless beheadings and executions that look place over the centuries. In a small chapel behind, many of these victims, as well as many people of importance, are buried. You can just feel an incredible presence here, even if you aren’t religious. That chapel has seen it all. If you have any unanswered questions, the best part of the Tower awaits- the Beefeaters.  Having a chat with the Beefeaters. They are always really nice and love taking photos. Wish I could wear their outfit everyday. Formally called the Yeoman of the Guard, they are blessed with the task of guarding the tower and have for centuries. They wear uniforms designed from Henry VIII himself, and although made of modern materials, they are still as accurate as possible and make the place the most authentic it could be. They add a living historical presence there, as they also literally live on the grounds with their families and have to have 26 years distinguished military service to have the post. The most incredible honor I can think of (that almost makes me want to join the military), and they are there to tell you stories, share histories, and make the Tower what it is. The whole experience is a must, and if I haven’t convinced you with all this, I don’t know what else to say. Oh, maybe it’s the views that will do it for you? A picture says a thousand words that I can’t, so see attached. I think it’s time we continue… and while I’m sure I’ve already convinced you to visit London if you haven’t, I’ve only just begun. Oof. Upon leaving the Tower, try to exit onto the river. The Riverfront here is so nice and picturesque, with City Hall (the egg-shaped building in front of you), the Bridge, the HMS Belfast (the bloody massive ship you can’t miss), the Shard (the big pointy skyscraper that dwarfs all), and of course, the unmissable Thames. Enjoy the view for a while with fish and chips from a little popup cart or food truck. (Try) to process the history you have just encountered and prepare for loads more (it seems impossible, but you don’t have a choice). Walk towards the Bridge and there should be steps carved in that take you up to road level. Take in the gorgeous blue beams and slowly cross to the Southbank, taking your time. An important reminder- this is Tower Bridge, NOT London Bridge. London Bridge is the one you see immediately to the right, past the HMS Belfast. It’s not particularly pretty, which is sad, but it's rather new, and the bridge that stood before it WAS incredible. For centuries, London Bridge was the only bridge that crossed the Thames in the city- and it was JAM packed with houses, businesses, and was always incredibly busy, since it was the only point of crossing. During the Great Fire, houses were torn down on it as a fire break to keep the fire from spreading to the Southbank. It went through a lot, and it’s sad we can’t witness it now, but it’s amazing to try and imagine. Once you have properly walked across and admired the views all around (and pinched yourself a bit for being in the greatest city in the world), exit down the steps to river level and head to the left, or East. There is a Starbucks on your right, eventually, and if you look up, I’m sure you see the Shad Thames. This area is now high rent because as with most of London, anywhere that used to be an awful tenement or warehouse is now refurbished high end real-estate. The Shad Thames for many years was warehouses, storehouses, and merchants’ quarters for the ever-growing trading networks and British Empire. The crisscrossing walkways above moved between buildings for greater ease, as the street levels were dirty and busy, and the walkways above would have cut time down significantly for the operators and workman within, getting goods into and out of London on ships docked just below. You can choose to explore this area, or head back to the bridge, under, and start your walk along the Southbank. Continue along past City Hall and linger a bit where it feels right. Have a sit, you won’t regret it.  The incredible HMS Belfast, positioned next to the Bridge. London has the most insane and beautiful mixes of cultures and histories. The HMS Belfast is great for anyone interested in wars, military history, or ships! I have not yet been inside, but it’s on my list. I’m sure it’s incredible! I’m sure you haven’t been able to miss the skyscrapers on the North bank, easier to see from this side. London is so great, because most building are small, and it therefore doesn’t feel like a big city. These few bits of the modern world are therefore built in fun and interesting shapes. You will see the Gherkin- the pointy tubular one with triangle glass shaping- a really unique icon. The Walkie Talkie is out in front- with the curved rectangular face that slightly bows out. If you want a great view, you can go to the top for free- with a ticket from online- to the Sky Garden, which looks as it sounds. There are tropical plants, restaurants, and as you can imagine, incredible views. Buildings keep popping up though the years and you know the Brits will continue to have the best names for them. As you continue walking back on the Southbank, Hay’s Galleria will be on your left a bit further down- it’s also converted warehouses, as I’m sure you will continue to pick up on during your walk. London was the capital of a trading empire, and while society has made it more of a digital trading capital now, the history is felt, and it’s now for all of us to enjoy. The Galleria is great to stop and have a drink and sit for a bit. As you continue, you will come to some strange steps that are rather an uncomfortable illusion to climb up. Do so- and you are now at London Bridge. If you want to detour to the Shard, it is situated above London Bridge Station, no small architectural feat. If you are feeling particularly posh, make a reservation for the GONG bar at the top- floor 52 to be exact. Noted to be the highest hotel bar in Europe, it’s a better deal in my opinion if you want the cost of the view normally from the observation deck, but to enjoy it, sitting down, with a drink in hand. Clink your glasses and say a cheers to one of London’s best view experiences. You are welcome. After the drink, or if you never detoured in the first place, cross the bridge when you can, and walk to a set of steps. You can’t miss the Church to the right of them- Southwark Cathedral. This historic church is centuries old and just hauntingly beautiful. Walk down the steps. Depending on what day you have done this, you are likely to now be in Borough Market. A bustling food heaven- with smells from every continent and culture, it’s hard to resist not buying something delectable. Wander through and take your time if you want. It’s likely to be very busy. Follow the cathedral around to its front and take the street to the left. Ahead, you can’t miss the old ship in front of you. You have wandered back on the Thames path, and I must tell you, I’m already done with part one (LOL). I’m rather impressed with myself, as I have done 90% of this writing from memory. Further proof as to my commitment and love of this city. I have so much left to share- so keep walking, if you are currently following this step by step in the flesh- but those that are there in spirit, I won’t leave you hanging for long.  The view from the Gong Bar atop the Shard, on a rainy evening. Watching trains come and go, Tower Bridge lit up, and sipping a G&T. Ahh.  (When you have spent Christmas with your family for almost every year since you were born, it’s hard to imagine spending it elsewhere. My first Christmas not at home was two years ago, in Wales, with a friend and her family. It was difficult to be away, but I cherished learning and living through another culture’s holiday and the ways other families celebrate. Each of us has our own Christmas memories, and that makes each of us have our own culture. So this year spending Christmas way from home wasn’t so hard, not only because I had done it before, but because it was time in coming. Really for the last 10 years since my German sister Lisa spent hers with us, I have wanted to be here in Germany with her family, celebrating their way and with them. The Kohn’s have always been the most kind and welcoming second family. It all started when Lisa decided to come to America to study for her senior year, and my family decided to take a German exchange student. From the beginning it was kismet. And after a year with us, naturally we wanted to meet and visit with her family. So then, when it was my turn to study abroad in London, me and my parents stayed with Lisa’s family. Several years have flown by, and so we have all crisscrossed across the Atlantic to see each other. While I have been over here more often due to my proximity in London (a reason for me moving over here), Christmas was always on my list. Covid kept me away, but third times the charm, and here I am. The Kohn Family Christmas is very traditional for Saxony, the region of Germany they reside in. Christmas Eve is valued highly over Christmas Day, because that’s when everyone give their gifts, sings carols, play games, eats, and chats. Christmas Day and the day after are also very important, for more rounds of meals, cake and coffee, discussion, games, and long walks. Christmas Eve was incredibly special. Lisa’s family lives in a small village not too far from Görlitz, on the border to Poland. During the day, we helped prepare the meal and spent time together. We got dressed in the evening (in matching skirts made by me, no less) and went a short drive to the small village church, which naturally is around 500 years old, and so quaint, up on its hill. Due to its age, its naturally made of stone and not really heated (well-heated by people). Gradually, everyone poured in from the villages, young and old, families and couples, sitting in squashed rows of chairs, in several layers of coats and scarves that we didn’t dare take off. You could see your own breath. Children took part in a little Nativity play, the priest and locals recited a few texts, we all sung along to famous carols to the tune of the massive upstairs organ, but of course in German (which I was really looking forward to- and loved!). We all departed back into our cozy homes for evenings of love and laughter. It felt like a real-life Hallmark movie. Back home, bratwurst, sauerkraut, and Kartoffeln (potatoes) were waiting for us. Oma and Opa joined, and we all gave gifts. A mix of Oohs, Ahhs, and Danke Schon’s were exchanged. It’s common to give a few little presents more than massive ones. Think quality and thoughtfulness over quantity (as it should always be the last thing we all need is more stuff. The scene from Harry Potter comes to mind when his cousin gets one less present than last year). Then the highlight of my evening- Oma pulls out her famous accordion and serenades us with Stille Nacht, O Tannenbaum, and other classic German favorites. Lisa, me, and her mom sing from a small hymnal, as everyone else starts a game of Rummy while sipping Glühwein. The atmosphere is warm, cozy, and so welcoming. The dog and cats sit and observe, lights from the tree twinkle, and German conversation mixes with shuffling cards and sips. All is calm, all is bright. Christmas Da is no less fun. Christmas dinner is a German classic- Goose. Cooked to perfection, and oh-so-tender. Accompanying it on my plate is delicious red cabbage, Brussel sprouts, and Kartoffelklößen (potato dumplings), all in a rich, hearty broth sauce. Lecker! A long walk through the forest, up above the village, is needed to settle the food and get some fresh air. Germans value the outdoors as much as their famous efficiency- so beautiful wooded paths are used by everyone. The dogs and Lisa’s baby nephew accompany us, and the sights are so picturesque. Once home, it’s almost time for Kaffee und Kuchen (coffee and cake). Have you noticed yet how close German and English words can be? Lisa and I go to feed and visit the new baby sheep, which always cheers me up and makes it feel even more like a home away from home. Her grandparents and parents live next to each other and have a small farm with vegetables, fruits, woodworking, and sheep. It's not Christmas without cute farm animals, right? My Hallmark movie is being fulfilled further. More card games follow, dinner preparations are made, and leftovers are had from the evening before. Yum. Cards are played late into the evening. I hit the pillow and didn’t remember falling asleep. Boxing Day is another round much the same, only this time, we have fresh deer- hunted by Lisa’s brother. When we head back to Potsdam the next day, I couldn’t be more fulfilled. Saying Vielen Dank and Bis Bald to everyone, I’m so grateful for what I have experienced, and so blessed to have been included. What I take away from travelling is to just go with the flow. There are so many things you never know you will like until you try. Most food you try you will love. Most places you go will be beautiful. Most people you meet will be wonderful. When you realize all that, there is little room left for discomfort or fear, because it has naturally faded away. This Christmas was all I could have hoped, and more, and it’s my gift to share it with you all. Who knew, in 2013, when Lisa came to us, that almost 10 years later, two families would be connected across the sea in such wonderful ways. Life is incredible, if you want it to be. Reflecting on it all, I highly recommend spending Christmas away from home. We are wired for it to be the one holiday that we will be home for, but life begins at the end of your comfort zone. It is incredibly rewarding to living amongst others, share in their customs, and connect with them in unexpected ways. We are all human, and we all have crazy families. It’s nice to take a break from yours, which usually is needed, and see another perspective. I can't guarantee it will be a Hallmark Movie, but it will be an experience. Frohe Weihnachten, und ein gutes Neues Jahr!  Sitting in German class in high school, I remember having culture days and learning about the famous Christmas markets, among many other traditions. My mother’s fathers family was German, and so traditions have been passed down to me and my sister- like St. Nicholas’ Day on December 6, when you put your shoe outside your door and in the morning there is a little goody inside. When you are a kid and there is an excuse to give you little presents, you don’t ask questions of origins. But as an adult, I have an inquisitive mind, so upon doing some light research, discovered that Saint Nicholas is a patron saint in Catholicism, and as his annual feast day is December 6, he became part of the Christmas holiday season. As his visit is common for delivering little sweets and goodies that could fit in a shoe, December 6 is seen as a preliminary round of Christmas. The shoe bit seems a bit less clear to me- except many German traditions were brought to America by immigrants, and I believe that shoe part formed from that. America is a beautiful melting pot, and it’s always good to have a reminder that these small traditions that we feel are ours started from hundreds of years of shifting cultural waves. While Nikolaustag (St. Nick’s Day) is still a tradition for many, the famous markets have the attention of us all for a reason. Many date back hundreds of years, the oldest known one being from Dresden (a favorite city of mine in all of Europe), at 600 years. These markets have trickled down into American culture in ways you might not realize- your community Christmas Bazaar. Every market has the typical touristy bits, but also incredible local heritage and gifts. Stalls of woodwork, ceramics, glassworks, jewelry, clothing, and countless artistry line both sides of the town main streets, here in Potsdam that is the gorgeous Brandenburger Straße. Mixed with gifts is its equal: the food. World famous warm Glühwein, Bratwurst freshly sizzled, and Quarkbällchen. Regional and other nations specialties are now staples too, like Langos from Hungary- a yeast dough covered in Quark (essentially sour cream) and Käse (cheese), but with many optional additions like meats and veggies. Massive amounts of sweets are on display too- chocolate covered fruits, fresh and warm salted nuts, and the large heart shaped German gingerbread cookies, with endearing saying like Ich liebe Dich, Liebster Opa, and Fröhliche Weihnachten. Is your mouth watering yet? To top it all off, and what makes it even more authentic for me, is to see mass amounts of locals out with family and friends- smiling, drinking Glühwein, wandering, and speaking in German (naturally). The beautiful lights twinkle and giant Weihnachtspyramiden (Christmas carousel pyramids) spin (fun fact, they traditionally move by warm air rising off the candles placed at the bottom, making the display turn as the propellors spin). The energy and festive spirit are everything I imagined, dreaming in my seat as that high school student. And here I am- in the flesh, loving every second. While Potsdam is one of my favorite cities, I’ve waited too many years to come to just one market. Every town in Germany has their own edition- and while I can’t do them all, I intend on doing as many as I can this trip. Dresden is tomorrow- and what I most look forward too, and Berlin’s are open until the New Year, which is rare and not common for most of Germany- when many close at Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve is the true Christmas Day in the country. That’s when families gather and give gifts, sing carols, and eat lots. The days after are for relaxing, more eating, and more visiting. For a gal who loves being out of her comfort zone and in new experiences, especially ones she has wanted to be a part of for her whole life- the time is nigh- and I can’t wait. Fröhliche Weihnachten!  Smiling into my Krug and wanting another Since the beginning of first year German in high school, and really before that with my German heritage on my mother’s side, I have dreamt of attending Oktoberfest. German culture has always appealed to me. I’m fascinated by the language and its strong pronunciation and similarity to English (yes- there are many words if you really look at them and listen!), delicious hearty food, and cultural and historic past of castles, forests, and kind and friendly but confident and bold people. So Oktoberfest, with the Krug of Bier, Brezeln, Bratwurst, Dirndl, Lederhosen, and festive music and dancing? Sign me up! The Famous Oktoberfest is typically held in Munich, since Oktoberfest is a traditionally Bavarian custom. I was a bit shocked to hear when my German sister Lisa had never been to one- but then she educated me on the traditions of the different regions, and as she was raised on the East side in Saxony, it wasn’t as common. You learn something every day. Being adventurous and open to new fun things as I am, she was completely ready to attend one, and it was kismet when I found out that Potsdam, the gorgeous historic town she just moved to, has one happening while I was there to visit- and on my birthday no less. I could think of no better way to finally have the long-awaited experience. Another misconception of Oktoberfest is that is takes place in October- the Germans threw everyone for a loop there. It really should be known as September fest- as most of the event is in the month before. We booked our tickets, and then Lisa told me it was very common to dress up in the Dirndl and Lederhosen, the respective women’s and men’s dress. You didn’t have to ask me twice, after scouring the web for good used pieces, we both found beautiful authentic Dirndls and Blüse. The day arrived, and after walking around gorgeous Sansoucci Park (more on that later), we dressed up and felt very festive as we headed towards the event. You never feel quite so German as walking through central Potsdam in traditional German dress, but everybody seems to know and accept that we were headed to Oktoberfest, so it wasn’t so strange. I would have done it anyways- headed to Oktoberfest or no. Held in a big fully-enclosed tent- there were "Herzlich Willkommen zu Potsdamer Oktoberfest" signs beckoning us. Inside, long wooden tables started to fill up with partygoers- and a stage in the center with a dance floor called us. At the back were food and drink- and naturally, the drink was already open and thriving. What surprised me the most from entry, was how almost everyone was wearing Dirndl and Lederhosen. Street clothes were strange for those few hours, and you stuck out if you wore them. It made the experience all the more authentic and wonderful. The night progressed- after a Brezel and 2 half Masse of Bier, I felt like a native. A band of two, keyboard and accordion, alongside a DJ, played away German pop songs and traditional tunes alike. A sea of Dirndl and Lederhosen swirled around, and feet kicked out in lines dances and waltzes. Smiles spread on everyone’s faces for hours, accompanied on the floor by a drink in every hand. Family and friends groups stood on tables, knocking glasses with the accompanying “Prost!”, stomping away and belting out lyrics they had known since childhood. For a few hours, all was right and perfect and 100% Deutsch. It had to end for us early, as Lisa had a late shift at work, but the party later raged into 3/4am- as is common of European fetes. Work hard play hard- there’s a reason German-made has such a reputation. We exited, and it poured. So there I was- walking home alone in central Potsdam at 10pm- holding a jacket over my head that did little to help in the downpour- wearing a Dirndl. On my birthday. I loved every minute of it. Experiences likes these truly make me feel alive. Diving into a new culture, being in the unknown, and realizing that’s where the growth happens. Out of my comfort zone is always the most rewarding place to be. Prost!  Piccadilly Circus- quiet and serene, something unheard of. She illuminated the large famous, beautiful space, still, even after her death. At 7:50pm, an hour after I learned of the news, I dropped everything and headed to the palace. I knew I would regret not going, having the incredible opportunity living so close and being here for such an incredibly historic event. It was so strange to ride the tube, knowing life was still happening but with a seismic shift in power. It’s a strange numbness. She’s been a constant in our lives for so long, an unelected life-permanent placement in a world that’s changing rapidly every day. This change in leadership, with the monarchy and the PM, is unprecedented. I walked by copies of the London Standard Newspaper, headlined with some trivial topic, realizing it was old news already- and would be splashed with black and condolence in 24 hours. I’m in London for an insanely historic event- the last Queen of my lifetime, and I get to mourn and share in her life, and earlier in the year, her incredible Jubilee. So much change in one year. Exiting out of Green Park Station, I followed a line of black umbrellas marching down the walkway towards the palace. It was pouring rain. The tears of the world poured on London, in grief, in celebration of a wonderful life. The day was marked in the most British way possible. Dreary clouds and endless sporadic pitter-patter, welcoming after a summer of drought and distress. Surrounding the front gate were people from all walks of life and every country in the world. Flowers rested everywhere on the gates, mourners passed them up to police, where they were laid with honor. People wandered around, in shock, in disbelief, of the event we all knew would come but are still processing. Clapping started and stopped. God save the Queen was sung. Reporters interviewed the crowds for their feelings and thoughts. I’m so glad I experienced my prime in the Elizabethan Era. We lost her the day after the birthday of her namesake, Elizabeth I. Thank you, Ma’am.  The Bridge of Sighs lived up to its name- but do you know the real reason for it's label? Constructed after it's inspiration in Venice- where prisoners would be taken across and get one last look at their beautiful city before being taken and sentenced to their fate on the other side. One would understand why they would *sigh*. As in American, I try to think back to a time when we learned about the prestigious universities around the world- the Ivy Leagues. Did we see them in film and read about them in social studies? Was it by word of mouth? Their prestige preceded them-hundreds of years of fostering famous students who discovered something and changed the world. It definitely shifted my world. You will see that it's no surprise that my first visit was major inspiration for my final tailoring collection- in terms of history, also of architectural lines, and color. Oh the color. As you probably realize by now, I tend to be more interested in visiting English cities than American, and so after moving here, I naturally wanted to experience the fame of Oxford and Cambridge. Now seeing both, they each have incredible beauty that only can be described as an English gothic romance, a trend that every other town here seems to follow and you NEVER get tired of, but I believe both universities deserve their own posts, as they can't truly compare without compromising their individual aesthetics. Cambridge lies about an hour north of London by train- the best way to travel. The station sits about a 20 minute walk from central- which is a bit of a hike compared to other towns, but is a nice warm up to slowly get introduced to the town from modern to olden. My first experience, and what I recommend along with every other blog in site- take a punting trip- but do it first thing. Buy your tickets online beforehand, from any of the great companies all packed together near the Cam river in town- and glide on the calm waters of the English Venice. The guides vary- a good one will tell you a lot of historical and trivial facts that make the trip fantastic, and others might respect the peace a bit. Both are nice options, but I prefer learning more (as always). The trip is about an hour, taking you through a back channel of the schools you don't see walking, and unless you are a student. The Bridge of Sighs, St. John's College, Trinity College and the Wren Library, the Mathematical Bridge, Kings College and Chapel, and countless other priceless places of dark romantic beauty- all aptly draped in English Ivy. In summer, it's all green and lush, and in fall, they turn the most gorgeous shade of wine- I recommend a fall visit. You have to see to believe. Fall is also best because school is in session- so students are walking around and making it feel more authentic. Also in session then is the Choir- and therefore evensong. Free to attend, evensong is the best way to see in and experience Kings College Chapel. I've been in my fair share of churches- but when I walked in there and my head inevitably turned up- my jaw dropped. You have to see it to believe it. Matched with the choirs song, seeing the Chapel for it's true purpose- echoing hundreds of years of song, history, and life, it was a life experience to be had. It was built by Henry VI- his passion for education and culture outmatched his desire to rule a country- and he wasn't great at looking kingly. This incurred the War of the Roses and the inevitable start of the Tudor Dynasty, who ruled majestically through dress and its power and symbolism. Nevertheless Henry VI- left us Cambridge and Eton, among others. Bless him. Wandering is the best option for this majestic college town- seeing Newton's Apple tree (still producing apples), eating a Chelsea bun at Fitzbillies, and gelato at Jack's. Pop into the Cambridge Press bookshop if you are interested in reading very niche academic research to broaden your mind- and see the oldest bookshop site in the UK that prints and publishes it's own. For an art and history injection, walk down to the Fitzwilliam Museum- a small but powerful mix of objects in a beautiful large gilded building. My personal favorite was visiting the new portrait of Will and Kate- aptly the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. It was excellently done and a feast for the eyes (but I'm a monarchist and a little biased). There's lots more to see and feel in this town- as a student you can get into many colleges and see what the public can't. When I have visited- I feel a familiar sense of comfort and belonging I only tend to feel when a place has a part of my future (we will see!), and the beauty of this town is wrapped around my soul. Only a day here feels lovely, but keeps you wanting more. The charm, history, and beauty lingers in every corner and in every season- from the wispy willows you pass under punting, to the gothic towers, the cobblestone streets, and the smell of academia. It's, as most corners of England, not to be missed.  All smiles to be on this ancient street- and around any kind of Tudor architecture. Isn't the ivy just incredible? Nestled in the Southern coastline of England is historically significant Rye, a town established officially in 1289 by King Edward I, but with roots much older than that. It's position on the English coastline means that its been a significant trading port and merchant post for well over a thousand years, and was likely a port and storage for goods like iron even to the Romans. Rye would have been right on the water then, but now- it sits back about two miles from the coast, but still close enough to smell the fresh air and have the seaside aesthetic. Rye is the definition of quaint. Winding cobblestone street and side passages, ancient gates and towers of stone, uneven houses that utter pure charm and hundreds of years of stories. It's storybook England in a nutshell. The clashing of architectures from several hundred years can be seen door to door- and the preservation of history is remarkable to say the least. The English have such a respect for preservation and thank goodness- where else do you see a home that casually has "rebuilt 1420" on its facade? For reference- that's 70 years before Columbus set sail and discovered America. It's no wonder I'm an Anglophile over American. I've always been a history nut- but the UK has brought out this passion more than I ever had interest in America. I love all history- including America's brief 250 years- but England itself goes back 1000 years-and was further under the Saxons, Vikings, Romans, and hunter/gatherer societies for thousands of years (think Stonehenge). So yea- history nut me squeals a little at the sight of anything remotely old. Back to Rye (I very easily become sidetracked with history). There's lots to see, even though it's such a small town. It's customary to take your time and truly explore, that's the English way-and therefore the best option! Probably most famous in the town is Mermaid Street- its the one you see most of Instagram posts- and absolutely is worth exploring and snapping some pictures. But don't forget- you don't need a photo of every single detail. Live in the moment- and learn to put away your phone (its not natural to us- but it's life changing when you do). The steep street features Tudor architecture, trailing ivy, and uneven stones. Perfection. The Mermaid Inn is famously one of the oldest hotel/pubs, with cellars dating back to 1156, when the first structure was probably built. The current structure is from 1420- and still operational. Families still live in homes dotted all down the street- which makes the row more authentic and lovely. Every twist and turn is worth walking- all roads pretty much connect with each other- and along walks you will see the Ypres Tower, Landgate, and views out to the sea. The antique shops are the real deal- this can take you a day alone for a purpose trip! Cafes, independent shops, and pubs everywhere are welcome distractions, and since this is a tourist hub- the town is empty by the end of the day-and that's when its its most charming. I recommend staying the night if you can to experience this calm when everyone has returned to London. You won't regret it. Wander into a pub and have a pint- sit and smell the air- close your eyes and imagine the sounds of merchants bustling up and down the streets 500 years ago. Fully immerse yourself in what life might have been like. Take another sip, and live in the moment. A quick bus ride, or car if you have one, away is Camber Sands. The wide, bright, sprawling dune beaches are an incredible movie-scene sight. Sand beaches on the southern coast aren't the norm- so the exceptional beauty of this one is appreciated. Have a wander- eat an ice cream cone- and dip your toes in the Channel. Imagine seeing the Romans on their way to dock just ahead at Rye. The Earth has changed little- and we see many of the same sights they saw-albeit without the changes of technology. Breathe it all in. You can easily take a train between London and Rye in about 1/1.5 hours each way, depending on which line you take. Rye is historic England in a nutshell- and not to be missed.  Always worth looking up at palaces- your head goes that way no matter what! This incredible staircase is unrivaled. If you don't know of Hampton Court Palace in it's own right, then it will definitely seem familiar by its historic use. Built by Cardinal Wolsey for himself in the early 1500s, it was then given (not really willingly) to his boss and king, the infamous Henry VIII as Wolsey fell from favor. HCP is a Tudor masterpiece, yet only the Great Hall, Chapel, and some state rooms survive (thankfully at least that) as Tudor styles fell out of fashion and the Baroque palace replaced much of it, built by the Georgians. Today, it's a wonderful clash of two architectures that amazingly work together. This is HCP's true worth- an incredible time capsule of a few hundred years of English power. The palace is a true favorite of mine (I've been three times)- set outside London but easily accessible, it's grandeur and opulence told by a multitude of kings and queens gives us a glimpse into true wealth and how its definition has changed over hundreds of years. To me, palaces like HCP are the epitome of wealth- but society now holds it in large modern houses, sports cars, social media followers, and private holiday locations. How have we been driven to this change? With the fall of many of Europes great monarchs and the rise of the power of the people, kings, palaces, and coronations faded away. As a traditionalist, I long for the old days, but as a realist, I know in many ways, we are better off now. But still- the artistic beauty and decoration found in these times past are a force to be reckoned with. These palaces also represent lost crafts and skills- tapestry weavers, master ceiling painters, intricate wood carvers, and baroque gold sculptors that are dwindling. These wealthy icons supported the arts in ways that are now not respected as much. Kings and emperors had incredible, unbelievable visions that seemed impossible to their courtiers, and still, hundreds of years later, some of these visions still stand, inspiring us all. I don't imagine many of them would ever think their dreams would last so long for us to see. These places wouldn't be here without the constant conservation efforts of people who do respect the past, and thank goodness we aren't short of them! I personally am very driven to be involved in heritage management in my lifetime- whether it be fashion, interiors, art, or education of it, I see it as a part of my future. It's incredibly important that these many places across the globe tell stories of the past to better understand where we are now, but also revel in the glory of amazing ancestors who did their best to enjoy life, just like us. Beside the many interiors and grand staircases, HCP boasts many gardens of different styles- including the oldest puzzle maze in England, the Yew Tree gardens (Downton Abbey and Belgravia famous, to name just two), and the Privy Garden and Fountain Court, recently featured in Netflix's Bridgerton Season 2. As a massive Bridgerton fan myself, it's insane to walk in the footsteps of not just monarchs, but also great filming locations with captivating storylines. There is barely a period drama I haven't or wouldn't watch, so these locations all across the UK hold double love and fascination for me, in historical and cinematic obsession. You can't keep me away from a historic site for long- they feed my soul in ways I still don't understand. I mean, how is it possible for you to not ooh and ahh in their presence? They drive my passions and thoughts- and it's always so much more joyful to experience them with people who feel the same. History is the coolest thing there is- and nobody can tell me otherwise. |
