It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a proper vacation, mainly because this last year has been a bit of a whirlwind: a big job promotion, adjusting to a new nighttime work schedule and elevating the blog, both aesthetically and efficiency-wise. I’ve spent the past year trying to make "Shireen’s Favorite Things" look and sound better, all while trying to surround myself with more positive, loving and creative people.
While it’s been a time of tremendous personal and professional growth, it’s also been a time of hardcore sacrifice. I work most weekends, use vacation time for blog excursions and find myself researching and writing during my true downtime. It may sound a bit crazy (my co-workers actually refer to it as "fashion madness,") but I like to call it – incredibly lucky. That’s because…
A few years ago, I spent all of my spare time in bed, sick (with Guillain-Barre’ Syndrome) and consequently, trying to get well. It was an impossibly sad time. I lost seconds, minutes, hours, weeks and months of precious time that I can never get back, not to mention a bit of my sanity and a lot of money (as I poured everything I had into finding answers and doctors who could heal me.) Truth of the matter is, there were simply no vacations or even talk of such frivolities; being ill and getting well was a full-time job. My life depended on it and I took it seriously.
After a few years of doctors, treatments and physical therapy, I rallied and miraculously recovered into a wiser, tougher, more compassionate and extremely different human being. If you’re a regular blog reader, you know the story and you know how my illness changed me and why the blog means so much to me: expressing my grief over the person I used to be and trying to fully understand the person I was becoming in my writing gave me solace and a sense of purpose.
As I grew well, the blog grew along with me (as I mentioned a few weeks ago in my last entry.) "Shireen’s Favorite Things" became what it was always meant to be: stories about people, places and things that could enlighten and enrich the mind, body and spirit. Okay, okay (I know my editor is rolling his eyes right about now,) what I mean is, sometimes the blog and the social media that works in tandem with it is simply about a fashionable collaboration you share with the world around you.
So, imagine my delight when James Woodley, photographer extraordinaire and my better half, recommended a true holiday. I laughed at the prospect. "Yeah, sure. I’ll go with you," I told him point blank. I mean, why not? I was finally better, my job was great and the blog had never been so self sufficient. I chuckled when he told me he was looking into tickets to visit his homeland – England. I had been there so many times (for work) it seemed trite, but I humored him and smiled at his enthusiasm.
The thing is, I never thought it would happen. So many bad things had unfolded over the last few years, I wasn’t going to push my luck. I was happy, HEALTHY and inspired. Who needed a vacation? Well, I guess everyone does. At least, that’s what James told me. Alongside a few special family members, he planned a countryside vacation that I would never forget.
We landed in London last week on a clear, crisp and completely gorgeous summer day and made our way to the "White Hart Hotel" at Kingston Upon-Thames-River. It’s a charming property with a tudor exterior and an inside modern-log-cabin-type-of-feel. It’s my first "Postcards from England" picture (outfit by Kore Boutique.) Upon arrival, I experienced major motion sickness, but after a brief rest, I rallied and we walked to the moody River where the fresh air greeted us like old friends. Miami’s humidity was quickly a distant memory.
That night, we met up with James’ parents at the hotel’s pub/restaurant and I have to admit, the food was quite good, but the company was even better. His parents are so warm, loving and funny (with that great English wit.) After a nice chat, whilst sipping on a pint of beer (yes, I wrote "whilst"; insert crying emoji here,) I savored a "Fish & Chips" platter; which hands down is my favorite English food (along with mushy peas. Clotted cream is a close second.)
Matter of fact, my entire vacation (at least when taking a break from sight-seeing) was spent trying to track down the perfect (yet elusive) plate of battered fish (Atlantic cod or Haddock) and chips (deep-fried slices of potatoes. We call them French Fries here in the states.) During my quest, I found out two rather fishy facts: 1. Not all platters are created equal (there is such a thing as bad fried food and bad fish is right up there with spoiled milk) and 2. I found it almost impossible to find a pub that actually still serves them. Shocking, I know. You’re better off getting a "take-away" (we say take-out.)
Fresh, not frozen, fish is key to the perfect platter and chips must be crisp on the outside and soft on the inside (never soft all over.) If the chips are really good, they’ll have tiny, extra crunchy bits at the bottom of the plate. I call that part "heaven." Especially when mixed with a heavy dose of ketchup. Mind you, I’m suspecting this is a very subjective topic, although I was coached by natives on the topic (who BTW were mildly bemused with my "Fish & Chips" obsession.)
My first full day in England was spent roaming about the intriguing and massive "Hampton Court Palace" in the London borough of Richmond-Upon-Thames. It’s my second "Postcards from England" photo (outfit by Hollen & Jen Vintage Showroom.) It was originally built by the English military way back when, but didn’t reach its full potential until the early 1500’s, when King Henry VIII decided to refurbish it for his favorite Cardinal, Thomas Wolsey. Wolsey was a big spender and spruced the place up so much, it became the grandest palace in all of England.
After Wolsey fell out of favor with the King (probably for having a better house,) he gifted it to Henry and died soon after. The king expanded "Hampton Court Palace" and made it a lavish and impressive dwelling (for the royal family and his massive court.) Its history doesn’t stop there, but that’s the gist of it and it’s definitely worth seeing. The architecture is beyond splendid and seems to be a mixture of different influences (Tudor, Gothic and Renaissance.) The gardens were by far my favorite; they consisted of manicured grounds as far as the eye can see.
I walked past flowers upon flowers, perfectly kept trees, gorgeous statues and even had a go at the garden’s famous maze. I couldn’t find the center and gave up, only to retire to the castles quaint cafe. A frothy cappuccino can really lift a fashionista’s spirits! I also walked through different parts of the palace, enjoying several tours of a plethora of preserved royal trappings: art, furniture, dishes, bedding, clothing, decor. Even the king’s toilet (another kind of throne) was still intact. I’m currently shopping for a red, cushy, velvet-like toilet seat to bring mine up to par.
James and I left "Hampton Court Palace" mid day, drove through the incredibly bright "Bushy Park," where we oohed and ahh’d over the dozens of deer who call the property home. We then made our way into the awe-inspiring English countryside. Destination, Bath. The drive was absolutely the most thrilling and horrifying part of my vacation. One of my bucket list items has always been to drive (or be driven) through the sprawling countryside of England wearing a big hat and a puffy skirt. Think Jane Austen meets Carrie Bradshaw. A pitstop during our drive is my third "Postcards from England" picture (outfit by Top Shop and neckerchief by Carlos Marrero.) And, yes…
It was everything I thought it would be and more. The lush green rolling hills were intoxicating and at times even glistened in a rich amber gold color as the shy summer sun peeked its way through the clouds. I was even lucky enough to see cows, sheep and horses enjoying an afternoon of leisure. It was so breathtaking, my eyes welled with tears, but not for long. Let’s go back to where I said: "sprawling countryside."
The countryside is indeed massive, but the roads? They most certainly are NOT. In fact, they’re beyond thin; tiny actually. Some are (JUST) one lane. What’s more, they’re incredibly wind-y and more often than not, rain-slicked with treachery!! While James was driving (on the right side of the car, which I like to call the wrong side,) I was screaming on the left. Along with a myriad of curse words, I blurted out things like: "Please don’t kill me on vacation." "I can’t die in this outfit, it’s not pretty enough." "Who will write the blog if I die?" "There’s so much space, why can’t you people widen the bloody roads!!?"
Add in a few over emotional groans, loud sighs and dramatic gasps (all while clinging to the side of the car door and covering my mouth in horror) and the drive was, well, a mixed bag of womanly emotions. Don’t get me wrong, I loved all the greenery, but not while it was streaking past me in a flame of Mother Nature glory. I would be remiss, though, if I didn’t mention that despite their fast and furious road etiquette, the English also drive quite responsibly; with gobs of roundabouts, proper politeness (everyone waves when you drive by) and a GPS that actually said: "Go straight and drive on this road for a really long time, please." We got to Bath in one-piece. Thank you, Lord-sweet-baby-Jesus. It was totally worth the white knuckle ride.
Bath is this incredible, rustically romantic city, snuggled into the rolling hills of Somerset in South West England and is known for its hot springs and splendid Georgian architecture. The sweeping "Royal Crescent" (which is a row of 30 magnificent terrace houses built back in the 1700’s) is a perfect example. The glorious semi-circle building has served as a backdrop for several major motion pictures (including "The Duchess" starring Kiera Knightley.) It’s my fourth "Postcards from England" picture (outfit by Bungalow 33 Boutique.)
Over the years, the line of regal houses has given way to a museum, a luxury hotel and apartments. Despite the break-up of the majority of the full-through terraces, the building’s facade remains fully intact. It’s totally a must-see and better yet, it’s directly across from "Royal Victoria Park," which is 57 acres of English yumminess, boasting botanical gardens, a boating pond, limestone statues, a concert gazebo, a golf course and so-on. You can easily make a day of it.
Most impressive, though, the historical and quite frankly, mind-boggling "Roman Baths," a well-preserved Roman site for public bathing. It’s my fifth "Postcards from England" picture (outfit by Bungalow 33 Boutique.) I was astonished by its history, beauty and the sheer fact that the thing is still standing. It was originally founded in 75 AD by the Celts to take advantage of the natural, mineral-rich hot springs (which have been rising in that area for thousands of years.)
The Baths were dedicated to the goddess of Sulis (who represented nourishment, healing and life-giving motherhood.) All good things come to an end, though, or in this case, the Romans invaded England and claimed the baths as their own. They gussied the place-up, rededicated it to another goddess and claimed the waters had healing powers. The Romans flocked to the baths; socializing, exercising, healing ailments and of course, ultimately, to get clean.
The "Roman Baths" now have a museum, gift shop and restaurant (called the "Pump Room,") built around it. Although you can’t touch the water inside the long standing relic anymore, you can indeed drink it from a safe supply provided by the restaurant. If you long to bathe as the Romans did, the luxurious "Thermae Bath Spa" (www.thermaebathspa.com) provides that experience.
After a few days in Bath, we took our squeaky clean selves to the "Jurassic Coast" in search of a famous natural limestone archway to the sea. It was an impromptu part of our trip I insisted we take after seeing the movie, "Far from the Madding Crowd" (Thomas Hardy’s fourth novel made into a film in 1967 and remade just this year.) It’s about a young woman beseeched by three suitors and whom she ultimately picks. It’s horribly romantic, in that reserved English, unrequited, long-suffering kind-of-way. It’s my favorite kind of film, but I digress.
The archway is called "Durdle Door" and is prominently featured in both films. It’s 140 million years old and was formed because of the erosive power of the sea. In other words, the water carved its way through the limestone leaving behind an impressive curvature. Its beauty is even more magnified by the sumptuous hills and dramatic white cliffs that surround it. I made my way down an incredibly long steep path, on a blustery summer day, just to see it. It’s my sixth "Postcards from England" picture (outfit by Top Shop and neckerchief by Carlos Marrero.)
Durdle Door is privately owned by the Weld family, but is generously opened to the public. For a small fee, you can park, walk, camp and enjoy the breathtaking scenery. You can even spend a day at the beach, swimming in the waters that curiously wrap themselves around the regal archway. Durdle, by the way, is derived from the old English word ‘thirl’ which means to bore or to drill. It’s an enthralling sight that doesn’t disappoint.
Leaving the side of that cliff was hard for me, as I wanted to explore more of the surrounding areas, but James and I were meeting up with his sister and her hubby in the seaside resort town of Brighton, also on the South Coast of England. Brighton is a lively city with a bustling beach lifestyle, an energetic nightlife and personality to spare. Once we arrived, our first order of the evening was dinner in a popular part of town called "The Lanes" (a groovy part of the city with narrow alleyways holding dozens and dozens of shops, antique stores, coffee houses, restaurants and bars.) It reminds me a little of the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
For the record, James’ sister and brother-in-law are officially some of my favorite humans on earth. They’re a young, good looking, effervescent couple who just seem as if they belong together. They insisted we eat at a hip Asian fusion joint they had been to before. The place was beyond busy, but dinner was delicious and we had a great ‘get to know one another’ conversation. The night didn’t end there, though, after dinner, we made our way through the busy, party atmosphere streets to different bars and pubs, trying to find the perfect place for a night cap.
It was definitely one of the most energetic parts of our trip. It was interesting and exciting to see a part of England I never knew existed. Brighton is also a place where bachelor and bachelorette parties run rampant (the English call them hen nights and stag nights.) On any given evening, you’ll be hard-pressed not to see a gaggle of drunk girls and/or guys celebrating their last moments of freedom. "Don’t do it!" I yelled jokingly into one particularly rowdy group of women to which the soon-to-be bride replied: "I’ll drink to that!"
After a few too many beers and a "Sex on the Beach" drink I ordered a reluctant bartender to make for our small, but spirited group (a little bit of Miami in England never hurt anyone,) we hopped into a cab and called it a night. The next day, with a throbbing headache and a gigantic craving for "Fish & Chips," we hit the "Brighton Pier." It’s my seventh "Postcards from England" picture (outfit by Kore Boutique.)
Despite the fact the day started out miserable windy, rainy and cold; typical English weather for you, in just a matter of hours, it turned into the most gorgeous summer day. Perfect for sightseeing and exploring "The Brighton Pier" (a mixture of cheesy tourism and sophisticated scenery.)
The pier, built in 1899, is used for sheer revelry and delight. It’s jammed packed with food stands, video games, carnival rides and fun photo ops. The sea is very different there, choppy, moody and rough. Instead of sand, the beaches are made-up of small pebbles/rocks mixed with tiny seashells. The view looking back onto the city from the end of the pier reminds me of the backdrop of a Nancy Meyers movie (think "Something’s Gotta Give" mixed with "It’s Complicated.") The stonewashed buildings, peppered with light pastels and soaring seagulls is postcard perfect.
Last but not least, we made a last ditch effort (before we ran out of time) to see the "Royal Pavilion." We didn’t have time to go inside, but we still managed to meander through its gardens and gawk at its magnificent exterior. It’s the eighth and last "Postcards from England" picture (outfit by Kore Boutique.)
It was originally built as a seaside retreat for George, Prince of Wales, who became Prince Regent in 1811. It was designed to reflect 19th century architecture in India. Although it’s gone through several stages of rebuilding, it still holds its original exotic appeal and has this old world magical charm to it. Not only that, it adds a bit of mystery and intrigue to the very English structures surrounding it.
After our great adventure, James and I made our way back to London to the place where he grew up. A lovely townhouse with a sweet Laura Ashley feel. Truth be told, it was the most comforting, relaxing part of our trip. The garden was gorgeous and dinner, well, I bet you can’t guess what we got from take-away. (Where’s a "Fish & Chips" emoji when you need one?) The best part about my vacation is that the experiences are building a different chapter in my life. It’s not about being sick or healing anymore, it’s about living, which I often write about, but don’t always have time to do. Creating and building a new life, with amazing new memories is why "Postcards from England" will always be one of my favorite things.
(Special thanks to Kore Boutique, Hollen & Jen’s Vintage Showroom, Carlos Marrero and Bungalow 33 Boutique.)
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