While Richard was in the United States for a work conference and a quick trip home to Boise, my parents and I took the kids to Wales for the weekend.  It worked out well because we could only fit seven passengers in our car and without Richard, my parents could avoid renting a car.  I picked up the kids from school on Friday and we drove to Andover, where we picked up my parents who had spent the day at and around Stonehenge.  From there we drove across the Bristol Channel and into Wales! 

It was gloomy and rainy and we arrived pretty late so we just went to our hotel in Aberdare and called it a night.  

Saturday morning we had a really satisfying British breakfast at the hotel restaurant.  It was an all-you-can-eat type arrangement with pastries, cereal, yogurt and then traditional English hot foods like ham, sausage, eggs and beans.  It’s interesting to me to watch my kid’s preferences unfold.  Cameron will eat anything and everything, clearing bits of ham and sausage from everyone else’s plates.  He also loves fruit.  Eli on the other hand much prefers things like crumpets, cereal, yogurt and croissants.  He is a carb lover and doesn’t care much for meat.  (The jury is still out on Mim and Simon.) 

It was an impossible task trying to choose a castle to see.  Wales has more castles per capita than any other country.  Unfortunately some of the most amazing ones are along the north coast, which was a bit too far away.  We settled on Caerphilly Castle, which is the largest castle with the largest grounds. 

It rained throughout our visit, not a heavy downpour but a steady drizzle.  The kids didn’t seem to notice, they had been given a scavenger type activity where they looked for clues throughout the castle and grounds.  They really enjoyed it and by the end Cameron and Eli were so into it they wanted to run to each spot.  It was a fun castle because there weren’t many people there and you could explore anywhere and everywhere.  We climbed the tower stairs up to the roof and stuck our heads in all the rooms.  

In the early afternoon we left the castle and drove back up north toward The Big Pit Mine.  I knew the kids would like to see a mine and because my dad’s ancestors are from Wales we’re pretty sure mining is a part of our heritage.  

When we arrived my parents and the three older kids all got tickets to go down inside the mine. Simon was too small (just a hair shy of 100cm) so he and I stayed up above ground.  Afterward my parents said that was for the best, they had to wear hard hats and it was cold and dark down in the mine.  

Simon and I walked through the museum and mine buildings and took photos while we waited for the rest of the gang.  Apparently things weren’t going smoothly and it took them much longer to get down into the mine than originally anticipated, so Simon and I also ate a snack and waiting in the car for a bit.  (Rain.)  

We were all ravenous by the time we left the mine so we drove to the nearest town and found a hokey American style diner for dinner.   From there we drove aimlessly through the Brecon Beacon National Park, which was just completely beautiful.  Since I was driving and we didn’t stop much I didn’t take any photos.  But it was really gorgeous.  Picture, rolling hills, pretty green valleys, lots of sheep and hedges and trees.  We made our way up to a little town called Hay-on-Wye, which is known for its outdoor book stores.  (Well, really for its excessive number of book stores, in general.) Unfortunately everything was closed for the day, so we drove down to see the rive Wye, and then drove back home to our hotel.  

Friday morning we dragged ourselves out of bed in time to catch a train to the town of Girona, north of Barcelona.  We wanted to get out of the city for a day, but Girona turned out to be bigger than we had imagined.  But it had a slower pace and quieter feel to it.   

On the train we all wanted a window seat so we spread out, but the first 20 minutes were either underground or just graffiti-covered concrete so eventually I fell asleep and slept for a good part of the next hour.  When I woke up I did catch some nice Spanish countryside views. 

From the bus station we walked to a tourist office to get a couple city maps, and then from there walked up to the old city wall.  You can walk along the city wall, which offers great views of the city, and the wall.  

We ate some lunch (I had more tapas…) in a back alley cafe where we were serenaded by a man with an electric guitar.  It was a little much. I preferred the more subtle tunes of the street musicians at the cathedral who played a flute and an instrument that resembled a steel drum but with a more mellow flavor.  It was really lovely. 

After lunch we went to the Jewish museum, which of course was pretty depressing.  Has there ever been a more persecuted people? My goodness.  The town of Girona had a big Jewish population who had a thriving community for hundreds of years before Christianity came along.  Sad stories.  

First things first- after the museum we ate gelato.  Then my parents received some really heartbreaking news that seemed to cast a shadow on the day.  We spent a couple more hours wandering the rabbit warren streets of Girona, popping in and out of cute little shops, before catching a train back to Barcelona.  

We arrived back in Barcelona after 9:00, and a combination of fatigue, hunger, and probably grief left us all in sour moods.  My mom and I found a place to eat and eventually we all found our way back to the hotel.  

The next morning we left first thing for the airport and flew back to London.  Adeu Catalonia!

Thursday morning we left the hotel slightly earlier than the day before, but not much.  There is something about warm-weather vacations that is so refreshing.  Walking through the doors in the morning in short sleeves and feeling the sunshine and the excitement of a new day.  My parents and I all commented on how pleasant the mornings were.  (It seemed we were also our best selves in the morning too…)

We didn’t get breakfast because we wanted to be hungry at Mercat de la Boqueria.  I can’t remember if we walked or took the metro to get there, but once we did it was sensory overload.  Endless fresh fruits and fresh fruit drinks. I think I tried three different kinds of fresh fruit juice.  (The ones with coconut were my favorite.)  We sampled and purchased so many different things including but not limited to cheeses, salami and battered shrimp.  

After the market I split up with my parents for a few hours.  They went and did some more walking and pastry tasting, and I went to a house designed by Gaudi.  I was completely enchanted by Gaudi, and the only explanation I can come up with is that he and I share a deep love for stained glass and tile mosaics.  I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to explore one more of his creations.  

The home was owned by the Batllo family, who wanted to show off their wealth by having Gaudi design something unusual and beautiful.  He showed up, in his usual colorful and a bit eccentric way.  My photos really don’t do it justice, so click here for even more fantastic images. 

It was nice to take a break from the heat inside the house, but as soon as I met back up with my parents I insisted it was time for gelato.  Then we worked our way through the Barcelona Arc de Triomphe, past the cathedral, and made our way down to the beach. We rented bikes and rode 8 kilometers along the coastline, stopping for a bit to dip our toes in the water.  

The bike ride was well-timed.  My feet were tired of walking and the breeze kept us cool.  (My wet jeans from the ocean probably helped keep me cool too…) But by the time we made it back to where we started our bums were tired of riding and our feet were ready for walking again.  

We decided we were ready for dinner so we meandered along the boardwalk to find a restaurant.  Each restaurant had a host standing out front trying to solicit business.  Each restaurant except for Burger King, but boy did I have my mom laughing when I pretended (with my best Spanish accent) to make a sales pitch for why we should choose BK from amongst all the restaurants along the coast, using the same arguments we had heard thus far.  Good times. 

We had more tapas for dinner, we discovered that none of us like sardines, and I felt like a fool after I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out how to turn on the water in the bathroom. (Foot pedal.)  

I really wanted to see the show at the Font Magica de Monjuic, and I kind of made a big deal about it, so we walked to a metro stop and rode a “train” (what’s the word Dad?) up to the top of the hill.  My problem sometimes is that I know just enough to think I know what I’m doing, only to realize I don’t know enough.  I knew the show was on Montjuic, what I didn’t realize was that Monjuic is huge, and we were on the wrong side.  The last show was at 11:00 and it was well past 10:00 so we got desperate and hailed a taxi. He was really nice and took us just where we needed to be.  The show was great in some ways, but I think the Bellagio is better in other ways.  We caught the end of one show and then stayed through most of the next show.  It was a total throwback, the music included all kinds of 70s, 80s, and 90s American rock. Nostalgia is always a nice touch. 

We walked back down the Avenida Maria Cristina toward the metro and I snapped a quick picture of Camp Nou- the stadium of the Barcelona Football Club.  I knew the boys would appreciate it. Heck, even I could appreciate it. It’s the largest stadium in Europe. 

And that was another day in Barcelona, in the books.  

My parents really wanted to visit Spain while they were on this side of the pond, and I talked Richard into letting me tag-along with them.  He was able to mostly work from home so he could do the school runs, and if you ever have the chance to ask him about his multi-tasking skills he might entertain you with the story of the evening he prepared dinner for the kids while on a conference call.  He had me LOL-ing.  

We flew out of London on Tuesday evening and our flight wasn’t full, which was really nice.  We arrived in Barcelona late and took a bus to our hotel, which was just blocks away from the Placa de Catalunya.  (It didn’t take us long to realize that the Spanish in Barcelona is Catalonian Spanish, and is actually quite different from any Spanish I learned in high school.)  

Since we got in late, we had a late start to our morning on Wednesday, which turned out to be the standard protocol for the rest of our trip. I just figured we were adopting the Catalonian lifestyle, late nights and late mornings.  

Wednesday morning we went to a cafe by our hotel for breakfast.  My parents both had hot chocolate which resembled pudding as much as any hot chocolate we’re accustomed to.  It was soooo yummy.  From there we walked to the Placa de Catalunya and then further on to Las Ramblas.  We stopped in at a Tourist Office where I asked about Flamenco performances (thanks again, Tanya) and found out there was one that night.  My mom wanted to see it as well so we made our way toward the Palau de la Musica Catalana where we bought tickets for the show.  By this time it was around noon and we had a tour booked at the Sagrada Familia at 1:30.  My dad decided to walk to the cathedral and meet us there.  My mom and I found a cafe for lunch and had our first experience with Spanish Tapas.  We were not disappointed.

My mom and I took the metro to meet up with my dad at the Sagrada Familia.  It was really warm outside by this time of day, but the blazing Barcelona sun felt pretty good on my pasty London skin.  Our tour of the Sagrada Familia was interesting and it was nice to enter the cool cathedral and have a break from the heat. 

The Basilica de la Sagrada Familia isn’t an old cathedral.  In fact, it isn’t finished.  It’s been under construction for over 100 years, but as our tour guide pointed out, that’s pretty typical for cathedrals of this magnitude.  The architect and designer of the Sagrada Familia was a man named Antoni Gaudi, who I came to really love during my time in Barcelona.  He was a simple man, with a vivid imagination, passion for color and commitment to incorporating nature in all his work.  Because the cathedral is relatively modern, and because Gaudi put his colorful twist on Gothic design, the cathedral was different than anything I’ve ever seen.  

When our tour was finished we ate gelato in the park and then my dad decided to continue walking, as he likes to do, but my mom and I took the metro up to the Parc Guell. We weren’t exactly sure what we were going up there to see, and even after we got off the train it was quite a hike in the summer heat.  But we did find some more amazing city views, and more of Guadi’s brilliant works.  

Guadi and his friend Eusebi Guell had dreams of building a community in the park, plans were drawn up for 60 homes, but only two were ever built and the project fell apart.  

By 6:00 my foot was blistered and we were getting hungry so we walked back to the metro, took a train back to the hotel so I could change my shoes and then hopped back on the metro to meet up with my dad for dinner.  (I’m usually pretty practical when it comes to travel shoes, I don’t take many chances.  But I had just bought a pair of Birkenstocks and I was totally expecting them to live up to their hype and keep my feet in comfort and ease. Apparently they need to be broken in just like any other shoe.)  

We found my dad, ate Tapas for dinner, and then my mom and I went to the Flamenco & Opera show. It was so amazing. We were literally on the edge of our seats for the entire show.  (Partly due to the fact that it was hard to see around the people in front of us if we sat back in our seats.)  The dancing was awesome and the opera was impressive.  I’m glad we were able to get in.  

Once again we met up with my dad, who had discovered the leisure and charm of the Barcelona beachside, went back to the hotel and I think I fell asleep in 30 seconds or less.  

One year ago yesterday we boarded our flight out of Boise, and one year ago today we landed in London.  This last year has been more difficult than I expected and also more rewarding than I expected.  Now that I have some experience under my belt I want to write about the things I love about London, and the things that aren’t so wonderful.  (I got this idea from Tanya and I could totally give an AMEN to her [much more concise] lists as well.) 

Things I Love: 
– The People.  I have made the most amazing friends.  I don’t know what else to say other than that I feel so grateful for the friends I’ve made.  
– Diversity.  London is a microcosm of the greater world.  Recent census data has shown that there are over 300 languages spoken in the greater city of London, and over 100 languages spoken in virtually every borough.  And this isn’t just a statistic, it’s what I hear and see wherever I go.  When I sit down on the bus next to a person speaking on their phone, more often than not they are not speaking English.  In the course of a day I encounter dozens of people of different races and cultures.  In Simon’s class at school each  child made a poster about their home country and there were kids from China, Bangladesh, Jamaica, the Ivory Coast, Venezuela, Germany, Pakistan, Nigeria and Sri Lanka. (And then of course the U.K and the U.S.)  We have experienced religious diversity, economic diversity, educational diversity, and of course culinary diversity! Which brings me to…
– The Food.  Britain doesn’t have the best reputation when it comes to food.  I can understand how pie & mash and fish & chips can eventually seem dull.  (Although we haven’t tired of them yet.)  But London doesn’t just offer British food, it offers food from all over the world.  The street food from market stalls is as tasty as it is diverse and it takes very little effort to find quality Chinese, Mediterranean, Indian, Thai, Ethiopian, Turkish and even American food.  (Sometimes a good hamburger or some BBQ just hits the spot.)  
– Public Transport.  There are obvious drawbacks to public transport, but for the purpose of this post I just want to talk about how convenient and ubiquitous it is compared to its general lack in the U.S.  We live just a short walk from a dozen bus stops, which will take us anywhere within a few mile vicinity in a short time, and the kids ride free.  We also live a short walk from a DLR station which will take us anywhere in East London easily and a National Rail station which will get us quickly into the heart of London.  I’ll write more about public transport in another post but it makes for easy exploration of the city without having to worry about driving and parking. 
– The hidden treasures.  The thing about London is that you can get dropped anywhere in the city, walk a few blocks and find something to see/do/experience. 
– History & Culture.  There are four World Heritage Sites in London, countless famous landmarks, and numerous museums, galleries and theatres.  The city has existed for over 2000 years and has so much of it’s own history, not to mention its exhibitions of international history.  
– The parks.  For being such a massive and densely populated city, London has miraculously and magnificently maintained its green spaces.  The Royal parks are all impeccably landscaped and each has unique features, and the local parks are expansive and offer both modern and classic playgrounds.  All the parks have gigantic trees. 
– Richard’s work schedule.  Americans love to talk about work-life balance, but the Europeans actually do it.  Richard has a standard work week of 35 hours.  Obviously during busy times he works more than 35 hours, but during the not-so-busy weeks that means he gets an extra hour each day to be with us.  He also has really fantastic holiday time, with the option to purchase more vacation days.    
– Walking.  I walk so much. I love it.  I love the chance it gives me to look around, to appreciate the sunny days, to explore, to see and smell and observe.  I have had some of my most treasured London moments while walking.  (The endorphins don’t hurt either…) 

Things I miss: 
– The people.  This might go without saying, but it can’t. We left behind really amazing friends.  We also moved from a city where grandparents were only 20 minutes away.  We used to see our siblings on a somewhat regular basis, even those who were far away were still on our calendar a couple times a year.  It has been over a year since I’ve seen any of our siblings with the exception of Jess & Preston. I have two nieces and a nephew (and two more on the way) I’ve never met, and won’t meet until they are toddlers.  This causes me a great deal of sadness.  
– My dryer.  But I’ve already covered that. 
– Driving.  Aside from people and my dryer, the thing I miss most is the feeling of getting in a car and driving without thinking about it, with confidence.  Driving here is not done while multi-tasking. It is not done on a subconscious level.  It is not done without anxiety and trepidation every. single. time. I get behind the wheel.  It has gotten better for me, and just recently I’ve started to feel a little less intense, but driving on the opposite side of the street from the opposite side of the car still messes with me, and the traffic here is terrible. 
– The traffic.  Richard and I laugh about how we used to complain about the traffic on Eagle Road if it took us more than 20 minutes to get to our parent’s houses, which were 13 miles from our house.  Driving 13 miles in London takes no less than 30 minutes if you are going away from the city, and closer to an hour if you are headed toward the city.  On a Saturday it can take 40 minutes to drive 5 miles.  It’s pure madness.  
– Open spaces.  We live in a city. A huge, crowded city. The houses are close together, people everywhere, things feel crowded all the time.  Businesses are always busy.  Even the parks, as big as they are, get crowded and driving in the countryside is gorgeous but the hills, trees and hedges make it hard to see much past a mile or two.  It’s a far cry from our little farming community of Kuna with its serene pastures.  
– The weather.  When people find out I’m from the U.S. they always ask me why I would ever want to move here.  The basis for their bewilderment is almost entirely founded on the weather.  London has a reputation for being rainy, but from my experiences it’s really just that the weather is so inconsistent and unpredictable.  Annual rainfall in London is less than Seattle or even Dallas, in terms of inches.  But it is frequently gray and drizzly outside.  It is also windy quite often.  London has gorgeous days, and usually even has gorgeous parts of days, but I really miss Boise weather.  I miss consecutive hot summer days for swimming.  London winters are cold, but don’t make up for the cold with fun winter activities like skiing and sledding, because there is no snow.  I remember people back home joking that “If you don’t like the weather in Idaho, just wait a minute.”  That was funny back home.  But it’s actually true in London.  When you lie on the grass in Idaho, and watch the clouds move across the sky, you have to watch for quite some time to see much motion.  If you lie on your concrete patio in London and watch the clouds blow by, they BLOW by.  
– Drive-Thrus.  For reasons I’m still sorting out, Europeans aren’t as obsessed with convenience as Americans are.  There are no drive-thru pharmacies or banks or fast food places.  (With a few exceptions.)  I really miss the Metro Express car wash with its super-powered vacuums.  

I suppose in another year I’ll have a new list, probably one that will be dripping with sadness about leaving and any negative thoughts I have about London will serve mostly to bring me consolation about saying goodbye to this truly fabulous city.  

After we got back from Auschwitz on Friday evening we wandered the market square and had a delicious and really inexpensive (everything in Poland was so cheap!) dinner al fresco.  It was a beautiful day and we just enjoyed our food and watched people out in the square.  

We took our time on Saturday morning and eventually made our way to the Schindler museum.  One of Richard’s coworkers had recommended it.  We spent hours there, there was so much information, but I pretty much max out in museums at three hours.  My brain turns to mush and I can’t intake any more.  Despite including the story of Oskar Schindler which was mostly hopeful and inspiring, the museum was more about the city of Krakow during WWII, which was depressing and sad.  

The end of WWII was not a happy and exciting time for Poland like it was for the U.S. or the United Kingdom.  

“The history of Poland from 1945 to 1989 spans the period of Soviet communist dominance imposed after the end of World War II… These years, while featuring general industrialization and urbanization and many improvements in the standards of living in Poland, were marred by social unrest and economic depression.” (Wikipedia)

We realized this as we left the museum and it left both Richard and I feeling really somber.  After enduring the severe deprivations of the war years, along with the mass murder of millions of her people, there was no happy ending for Krakow. 

I was expecting to feel depressed after visiting Auschwitz, but I think the museum caught us off guard.  We walked somewhat aimlessly until we came to the river, and then walked along the river greenbelt in the sunshine which seemed to lift our spirits.  We ate lunch on a river boat and had a nice chat about our future.  Looking back I can see how that conversation was a manifestation of gratitude we were feeling for the blessings we can enjoy and look forward to in our lives. 

After lunch we wanted to go see the Wawel Castle from the inside, so we headed that direction.  We came across a summer fair along the banks of the river where I had some more pierogi.  Then came the downpour.  It started to rain so Richard and I wrapped up in his coat and huddled under a tree. It probably only lasted 20 minutes, and it was kind of romantic.

After the downpour was finished we made our way to Wawel Castle, which sits up on a hill and was just stunning.  The castle grounds were really fresh and clean from the rain, and when the sun came out it was really warm and gorgeous up on that hill.  From the castle we walked back down the market square and ate some dinner before catching a cab back to the airport for our 9:50 flight.  

Wawel Castle was awesome.  The city of Krakow was lovely.  The history was painful.  It’s so easy to romanticize these vacations.  But traveling with family members can be difficult and this trip in particular took an emotional toll on Richard and I.  I want to keep it real in this space, and be authentic. Having these opportunities is such a blessing, but it’s not always pleasant.  Krakow just was what it was, and I’m grateful to have been there and hopefully be changed in meaningful ways because of it.  

As soon as my mom told me that she and my dad were coming to visit in May, I started thinking about where Richard and I could go without the kids.  Leaving them with Baca is not only free from cost, but free from stress and worry. It is an opportunity that must not be lost!

I had remembered that Tanya said she and Tim took a quick trip to Poland to go to Auschwitz without their kids and that seemed like a good idea.  But the more I thought about it, the more I felt like I didn’t really want to go to Auschwitz.  Just the idea of it felt unbearably heartbreaking and I started to wonder why I wanted to go there.  What kind of morbid person deliberately visits a place where some of Earth’s greatest horrors took place?  Surely we had better options. (Rome anyone?!)  As I began to drift away from Poland as a destination, a powerful thought struck me.  What if no one visited Auschwitz?  And that prospect felt even more heartbreaking than the prospect of going. So I knew we needed to go. 

In anticipation of our visit, Richard and I read Man’s Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl.  It’s an inspiring book for sure, but it was inadequate to the task.  I was looking for something to prevent the pain, but that was futile.   

Our tour was three and a half hours and it began at Auschwitz I and then we took a shuttle bus to Auschwitz II – Birkenau.  Our tour guide had two uncles who died in the camps and I could tell it felt personal to her.  I don’t know how to write about my experience without it sounding trite, and I just don’t have the emotional energy to recount the facts as I heard them.  I’ve mentioned a few details in the photo captions below, but you can read more here.  And if you’re interested in this atrocious part of history I encourage you to find books and read the stories of the people for whom Auschwitz was a reality.   

The processes of death that took place daily in these camps was overwhelming.  To learn of the neglect and dehumanization of the prisoners was nauseating.  For the first hour I felt my throat burning and my eyes blurring as I tried to refrain from completely falling apart into ugly sobs.  For the most part I maintained composure; I wanted to feel deeply but I also didn’t want to detract from anyone else’s experience by making obvious displays of emotion.   The moment when I could no longer refrain from weeping (and I cry now just thinking of it) was as we stood on the platform at Birkenau where 70 years ago a German guard hastily made the choice between life and death for families as they arrived.  Young and middle-aged men and women were kept for labor, but the elderly and children were sent immediately to the gas chambers.  I simply cannot fathom the terror in the hearts of the mothers as they were separated from their children in chaos and confusion. Never to see them again.  And the poor children, God bless their sweet spirits as they walked bravely and unknowingly to their death.  There was a photograph in one of the museum exhibits of a grandmother, carrying an infant and surrounded with three young children holding hands, as they walked away along the dusty road toward the chambers and away from their parents.  That photograph will haunt me forever.

The only other thing I want to say is that I considered it an honor to be there.  To spend time on that hallowed and sanctified ground was a privilege.  It was a holy place to me.  

After we went to the Louvre in Paris I decided my kids needed a little art education.  I wanted to start simple, so I bought a book called 13 Paintings Children Should Know. Three of the 13 paintings in the book are located in the National Gallery in London so during the last half-term break we took a trip to the National Gallery.  Before we went I showed each of the paintings to the kids and we read about them.  Unfortunately, two of the paintings were in an area of the museum that was closed on the day we went, which was really disappointing.  So we found the painting that was available – The Arnolfini Portrait by Jan van Eyck in the year 1434.  (Van Eyck was from the Netherlands and he painted mostly in Bruges.) We looked at many of the other paintings from the 15th century and then left the museum.  

We ate a packed lunch at Trafalgar Square in the warm sunshine and then walked around to see all the buskars and street performers.  There wasn’t anyone too impressive, but the kids did really like these chalk drawings of flags from around the world.  

After we left Trafalgar Square we walked around Chinatown and Picadilly to spot more Shaun the Sheep statues before walking to St. James’s Park.  

Sometimes people seem really impressed when I talk about taking all four kids into the city, to which I always say “It’s not that hard.”  I’m not sure why I say that, because it IS hard.  It’s intense.  I just can’t imagine NOT doing it. I can’t imagine living here and not trying really hard to fully experience it.  I still don’t get out as much as I wish we did. And I still think that I romanticize our outings before-hand in a way that they never quite measure up to.   They rarely go as planned and I almost always end up feeling sweaty and stressed at some point.  But then when I lie under the trees in St. James’s Park on a gorgeous spring day, while Mim picks flowers, the boys play football and Simon collects sticks, I get my payout. 

Last Monday was another bank holiday for Richard and the kids were out of school for half-term so we decided to go see Stonehenge.  The first part of the drive was the same route we had taken the day before on the way to the temple, and the day before that on the way to Tilgate Park, but who can tire of such a pretty drive? 

You can see Stonehenge from the motorway as you are approaching, and they have built the Visitor Centre and car park a fair distance away, so it creates a nice effect.  There they are, these giant stones, it what honestly feels like the middle of nowhere.  

Carbon dating estimates that Stonehenge was built over 4,000 years ago.  (Approximately 2,500 B.C.)  There has been extensive study and excavation and archaeological research, but still no one is certain what it’s purpose was.  Richard and I were completely fascinated, but the kids were only interested for about the first 15 minutes.  

After we finished the audio tour we took the shuttle bus back to the Visitor Centre and walked through the museum.  It was really interesting too, mostly just the complete ancient-ness of everything blew my mind.  

We left Stonehenge, and drove around for too long looking for a park or place to eat our picnic lunch.  We had to settle for pulling over on the side of the road, but it was still a nice view. 

We decided to spend the afternoon doing a little exploring of Wiltshire, and our first stop was the town of Lacock.  The entire village is owned by The National Trust, which means it’s charming and well-preserved.  It has been used in the filming of Pride & Prejudice (as Meryton), Harry Potter, Larkrise to Candleford, and Cranford.  

Richard and the kids stayed at a park and played while I meandered through the quaint little town.  Unfortunately, the town was hosting some kind of event/scavenger hunt/public festival and it was heaving (as the British say) with people.  I couldn’t get many pictures that weren’t full of strangers, but it was fun to see.  

Our next, and last stop was the town of Castle Combe.  It was a little bit of paradise, completely removed from the outside world.  Even the electrical lines are hidden from view.  

We walked down the road and found a public toilet, albeit a dodgy one probably as old as the town itself, and made the kids use it. Then we walked back up to the town to see the cathedral.  Inside the church Simon loudly proclaimed that he had fouled in his pants.  (I take that language from the signs I see in grassy areas that say “No dog fouling.”)  

What do you do?! I mean seriously.  There he is, standing with poo in his clothes in a cathedral.  I walked him back down the road to the toilet, and stripped him down in the icky stall, and pondered my options with the desecrated underwear. There was no trash bin in the stall or the bathroom, so I would have to take them outside to the bin and chance being seen by responsible adults who have either never had children or have never had to deal with this situation, which would surely result in looks of disgust and judgment that might be too much for my fragile psyche to handle.  But alas, I had no other choice.  Fate was on my side and I managed to dispose of them without being discovered.  I cleaned up Simon the best I could, but about 45 away from home he started crying about his “crusty bum.”  Richard and I didn’t have much sympathy for him.   

In the meantime Richard had walked with the other kids back out of the town and retrieved the car and came and rescued us from the dilapidated restroom and we headed home.  It was about a two hour drive back to London, and then another hour across and through the city before we made it to our house.  We were a pretty pathetic lot by the time we walked through the doors, it had been a long and tiring day.  I think we ate eggs and cereal for dinner and we all went to bed.  

(I’m pretty sure we washed poor Simon’s crunch bum.)

Now that the weather is getting warmer we are trying to get out more.  Last weekend we took the kids to Tilgate Park in Crawley, south of London just for the afternoon.  It was a really pretty park.  Mim and Simon played on the playground for awhile, while Cameron and Eli played football in the grass.  Then everyone (except me, I’m lazy sometimes) played “baseball” with some improvised equipment.  Cameron and Eli went back to playing football and Richard and I took the littles on a walk around the lake.  Then there was more time on the playground, and a scenic walk back to the car park.  

The next day, a Sunday, after church we drove back down south of the city to the temple to see more glorious flowers and just walk around the temple grounds.