Just call me Ponce de Leon

Today Jenn had to do some work. I briefly considered acting like a well behaved employed person and doing some work of my own, but then I decided, I’m in London. I can act like that when I return to the other side of the big pond. For now, I will pretend that Thursday afternoons are meant for meandering around parks and dipping in and out of random British stores. And so that’s exactly what I did.

I’m of the opinion that to truly experience a place you have to explore it a little on your own. (If my mother is reading this, she’s probably vehemently disagreeing right now) But I like to just get out and wander a little in cities that I’m not totally familiar with. Luckily, Jenn and I are staying in a rather ritzy area of London so I didn’t really risk ending up in the middle of some gang war during my wandering.

I started in Hyde Park. As it’s only about a block from our flat, that was an easy place to start. For awhile, I just meandered down random paths, mostly on the look out for dog walkers—specifically hoping to see some dachshunds, if we’re going to be honest. And there were plenty to be found—dog walkers that is. There was only one dachshund, but he was REALLY cute. He was hanging out with a black lab and they looked a little like they were snorting for truffles with their excessive grass digging.

Eventually I crossed a bridge in the park and ended up standing behind a fence, looking at the new memorial fountain to Princess Di. While I was standing there, I noticed a woman, dressed in a long red coat. She had short blond hair peeking out from beneath her hat and from a distance, she looked a little like the late princess. She was sitting on the edge of the fountain, looking in. It was the perfect photo op. And I was just pulling out my 340 pound camera to capture it when a guy I’d noticed earlier on the bridge came up behind me.

“Do you have the time?” he asked.

“No, sorry,” I said. I haven’t been able to figure out what time it is here for the last five days. I don’t have a watch or a cell phone and I keep sleeping ridiculous hours and the sun goes down at like 3 p.m. The chance of me knowing the time is about as good as me knowing how to speak Chinese.

“Oh, ok,” he replied. “Well, do you mind if I walk with you for a bit?”

Uh oh. This is why mom wouldn’t want me wandering around by myself.

“Um yeah, I’m just going to walk alone,” I said and smiled, hoping he wouldn’t kill me.

“Ok, well, would you like to get a drink sometime?”

“No, thank you,” I smiled again, deciding that he probably wasn’t going to kill me, but still feeling kind of awkward about this whole encounter.

“Ok, well, just thought I’d ask,” he said and then turned and left.

Fair enough. By the time I’d turned around my Diana look alike was gone. I felt a little angry about that.

From the memorial I continued. And then, a few minutes later, stumbled upon a palace. This, by the way, is something that doesn’t happen to me very often on my walks in parks. Most of my park walking time is spent praying that Rosie doesn’t get hit by a stray golf ball (the park I walk in is partially a golf course) and also that Rosie doesn’t get taken away by a crazed hawk (this almost happened. Twice.). So, palaces don’t show up all that often on my walks.

It was Kensington Palace and it was lovely. I hung out in the gardens for awhile and then decided that since it was very windy and I wasn’t wearing a coat (I’m really starting to hope my mom isn’t reading this entry now) that I’d head over to Kensington High Street—a place where I knew I could find at least two things I needed: food and H&M.

As it turns out, Kensington High Street now looks a little like any street in the US. There’s an Urban Outfitters, a McDonalds, a GAP, a KFC and the most glorious Whole Foods I’ve ever seen.

That’s right. Whole Foods. I mean, it makes sense. This is a fair trade/organic/vegetarian loving society if I’ve ever seen one, but this Whole Foods was out of control. It is three phenomenal floors of breads, meats, cheese, veggies and every thing in between. There is an entire room dedicated to cheese. Not a section. I mean, its own closed off room. I would have taken photos, but I was pretty busy “sampling” (eating every last one on the tray) the aged cheddar. I could write pages about this Whole Foods. But I won’t, because that would bore you and because salivating on my keyboard would probably ruin it.

In fact, I’m going to just stop writing now. This has become ridiculously long and, well, as I noted before. I’m in London. It’s time for me to leave my laptop and go and enjoy it.