I still have so much to write about from this year - our trip to Cape Town, weekend jaunts from London, our anniversary staycation, moving into a new flat.

But that all can wait - while the sights, sounds and smells of our recent trip to Southeast Asia are still fresh in my mind, I'm jumping ahead!

Angkor Wat has always been one of the top items on my bucket list. With iconic pictures of the temple towers found everywhere from National Geographic to fellow bloggers, I couldn't get it out of my mind.

So when we made plans to travel to Thailand with friends, I knew that Cambodia was too close to not pay a visit to.

The day we arrived, we were greeted at the airport with a tuk-tuk driver to escort us back to our hotel and I knew that the city was going to be something different.  As it started raining (or more truthfully, pouring) on our drive into the city, I just had to laugh. The poor tuk-tuk driver rolled down some plastic flaps to keep us relatively dry, threw on a rain poncho and kept on driving.

Because we arrived in the afternoon, we decided to wait and tackle the temples on our next two days, and spend the afternoon acquainting ourselves with the city of Siem Reap. I wasn't sure what to expect - something like Sri Lanka? More like a small town in Turkey? A bustling tourist rip off?

To find out, we walked from our hotel rather than take the short tuk-tuk ride into town. We walked in the middle of the road, as the streets were without sidewalks and the sides of the road were lined with puddles, vendors selling you food and stray dogs basking in the sunshine after the rain. We crossed over to the river, dodging tuk-tuks filled with tourists, bikes with babies in laps or girlfriends riding the spokes or small trucks with fruits and people on the back.

We watched local 'crew' teams rowing their long thin boats easily through the water. Standby boats sat on the river's edge, getting a fresh paint of coat for their next journey.

Finally, we reached the hub of town - the local market. The outside is filled with tourist shops, trying to catch all the visitors as they walk on the small sidewalks (avoiding all the above obstacles in the road). After making a lap around the perimeter, we headed inside to see what else was on offer, and what deals we could have.  Inside the market, the sunlight is dimmed from the tightly packed interior. Shop owners nap in chairs waiting for patrons while kids play in the alleys.

In the very center of it all, you'll find everything you need for dinner. While you may have adjusted to the scent of exhaust on the walk outside, all of a sudden you find your nose attacked with scents of fish and fresh meat (which is horrifying to me), or more pleasant cooked meals like noodles. You'll walk down one aisle with chicken meat (legs and all), fish gutted down the middle and shell fish, to the next filled with vegetables.

We decided to embrace the adventurous spirit of the trip and grabbed a seat at one of the stands that was frying up something in a pan. With no idea what was on offer, we ordered two, then sat to eat it, taking all in.

On the way out, we bargained for a few goodies to bring home, then meandered to the less local Pub Street. I spotted American, English, Italian and even Mexican food. But the best reason to visit here - 50 cent beer and people watching.

After we decided jet lag had gotten the better of us and it was time for our $10 massages, we headed back to the hotel. Yet after just 3 or 4 hours, Siem Reap and Cambodia had awoke an excitement for a new place and experience, which I hadn't seemed to felt in the last few months. The buzz of the city, the kindness of the people, the smells and the sites made it a place that felt real and authentic, in spite of the thousands of people that trek through each year. So much of the atmosphere reminded of what I loved about Istanbul (only without the Bosphorus), making me excited to see what else Cambodia had in store for us. 

Every time I get off the tube at Notting Hill Gate, I pass Recipease. When we were living in Notting Hill, that happened ALOT.

At first, I didn't pay much attention, then I looked at it some and chalked it up to be a kitchen goods store.

For my birthday this year though, I learned the truth of Recipease. It is partly a kitchen goods store, but even more so, it's Jamie Oliver's store that hosts cooking lessons! Paul surprised me with a voucher for a class and once I found out the real secret of it, I couldn't wait to give it a shot.

They offer lessons in all kinds of things. Steaks, street food, kids lessons, but I decided upon homemade pasta. I love pasta and Italian food, so I figured it was the perfect time to figure out how to make it at home.



The day of the class, Paul and I had a mad dash to the shop (I may have been sick and napping away through my alarm!) but we made it just in time to wash up and don our aprons. They put a maximum on the attendees to ensure there are enough work stations and that the teacher can ensure you're learning what you're doing.

We were going to be making a few different types of stuffed pasta - this one focused only on the pasta, not the sauce, although they do have another class that teaches both.  We were making ravioli, tortellini and bow-tie pasta. The instructor started off by explaining it all to us and I was amazed at how easy it was! Flour and egg, voila, you have pasta dough!

Next comes the hard part - we rolled out the dough, then fed it through the pasta press several times, each time tightening up the rolls, to make sure we got it as thin and compact as we could. Once we had our strips, we set about cutting them up into the right size and there was even a fancy cutter that helped get those cute serrated edges you see on ravioli.

After we've got our perfect cut-outs, we set to filling them with ricotta, spinach and lemon. Not too full, or they fall apart in the cooking, and then we squish up the edges to seal them up.

As we drop the pasta in water (just a quick 2-3 minutes until they rise to the surface), we also start on our sauce. Simply butter, lemon and mint to give us a rich, if not too unhealthy, topping for our pasta.

So after 1 hour (mostly due to our learning than the length of the task) and we were done, kicking up our feet with a glass of wine and a plate of our delicious creations.


Despite the simplicity of it, I haven't quite yet tried this at home since I don't have a pasta roller, but perhaps I'll find one in my stocking for Christmas?!

When I landed in Cambodia, I reached a major milestone in my travels.

2014 marks 100 years since the start of WWI - in the UK, there have been lots of events, books, television reminding us of the impact it had. With no living veterans left, it's up to us to pass along the histories, stories and memories of those who lived or battled through it.

Usually as an expat, when you run into new people (locals and even sometimes foreigners) the conversation goes like this:

Local: You're not from here?
Me: No, I'm from Texas
Local: Ah, you don't really have an accent. [Ummm, thank you?] So how long have you been in London?
Me: Two years.
Local: So how do you find it?

On good days, I gush and talk about travel and all the things to see and do in London.

On bad days, I say it's great, but then in typical UK fashion, I complain about the weather, commuting, rent prices, etc.

With locals, this seems to do the trick. With people from the US though, it never seems quite as simple.

If you're unhappy in your new home, that makes sense to them, they've heard the weather and food are terrible and you should just come home. Why did you go over there in the first place even?

If you're happy, it's even more confusing. But don't you miss family, friends and all the American food?! Are you turning into some crazy Brit over there? Have you forgotten about America?

Of course I exaggerate and not all the conversations go this way, or at least not to this extreme, but it's a tough conversation to have and the longer you're overseas the tougher it seems to get (after two years the questions of when are you coming home are becoming more and more frequent).

Perhaps there's a marker where you cross over and people realise you've found your place in the world (quite literally) and that may not be your home country.

Or, on the other hand, perhaps not. Perhaps we're destined to forever be in the land in-between explaining to someone why we're still making the choice to live in the UK. We'll have to see how I find it in a year and go from there!

When we were researching for our trip to Cinque Terre, we decided to get off the much beaten footpaths between Rio Maggiore and Monterosso to see what else was to be found in the area.  While those are the most famous, we knew there had to be finds that at least could give us more great gelato.  So after the good workout the first few days, we decided to spend the last few days of the vacation finding our sea legs on the ferries.

One auspicious evening in December, we headed out to join the Texas Exes group for a game watching. We were new to London and trying to find our place in the wild jungle of a city that we now call home. Luckily for us, some London veterans and UT alum decided to come as well. Just like trying to set-up a date, we chatted and exchanged numbers.

Little did we know what that exchange would lead to. We loved getting to know the Houses, becoming fast friends and exploring everywhere from the restaurants of London to Ben Nevis and Copenhagen.

So, when after 4 years in London, their time was up, we knew we needed to send them out with a big farewell. One of the places remaining on their bucket list was Cinque Terre and as I can never say no to Italy, the decision was made.

Hiking with the Houses

Perched on cliffs, the five villages of Cinque Terre and all the surrounding vineyards dot the rugged landscape. The contrast of the blue waters of the Mediterannean take your breath away. The area is famous for its coastal walks in more ways than one. Not only are they known for their beauty but also because of the tragedy that struck in 2011. During heavy rains, mudslides in the area caused 9 deaths, so following that, the paths were closed for several years. Supposedly, they were set to open again for the summer season in 2014, making it the perfect time to visit.

After arriving in Manarola, we set out to explore only to find out that this wasn't in fact the case. Additional rains meant that 75% of the coastal paths were closed, including the famous Via Dell'Amore. So instead, we hiked upwards through the hills and vineyards, through barely identifiable paths marked with red and white stripes every so often to let you know you hadn't gotten lost (yet).

While we weren't right on the coast, the views were still beautiful. Our first day, we started small and hiked from Manarola to Rio Maggiore. We rewarded ourselves with gelato, then took the train back to enjoy dinner and a sunset at Marina Piccola.

The next day, we hiked the other direction, from Manarola to Monterosso al Mare. Again, two of the coastal paths were closed, turning us to the hills. We first hiked to Volastra - all uphill - and decided that exertion meant it was time to reward ourselves with some wine. We tried a flight from a local vineyard (mostly whites which are common to the area) and a sweet sciacchetra. With wine in our system and smiles on our faces, we felt ready to tackle the downhill walk to Corniglia, continuing on to Vernazza and Monterosso al Mare.


Our approach to each village awarded us with fantastic views, small colourful cities with the blue backdrop. We had a little time to explore each city, and of course eat. We had a goal to try gelato in each town, as well as the foccacia that is so well known in the area (for good reason). Even after 7 1/2 hours among the cities, I could have spent more time in each of them wandering the hidden alley ways and discovering their secrets. Each city had it's own personality.

Riomaggiore, perhaps the gateway to Cinque Terre as the main train stop;


Manarola, my favourite of the villages filled less with tourists and more with locals enjoying gelato and foccacia bread;


Land-locked Corniglia perhaps was the most remote, perched on the hill giving you a look over everything below;

Picturesque Vernazza with it's hidden beach and secluded harbour;

Bustling Monterosso is the largest, and most crowded with tourists and locals flocking to their beaches.


13 miles later, we found our way back to Manarola to finish off the evening with even more food and another beautiful sunset. While we had explored the villages of Cinque Terre, our time in the coast wasn't quite done yet, but that will wait for another post.

Manarola by night

Everyone knows about the winters in London (or at least those of us who've been lucky enough to live here know about the not so lucky London winters). The sense of oppression as heavy skies just seem to weigh down on you, full of ominous clouds waiting to deliver rain upon unsuspecting Londoners walking home in the dark at 5 pm.

Yes, London winters are terrible and we all love to talk about how terrible they are, as weather is our go to conversation starter.

But in my opinion, Lonodn summers aren't getting their due. It comes as a surprise rather than expectation when we find ourselves blessed with a sunny day.

We cheerfully comment on the nice weather but add some type of caveat that the rain must be on it's way. It's just too good to be true.

We enjoy the best, but hope for the worst.

And yet, even while waiting for the skies to open upon us, we all seem to find ourselves outdoors, soaking up vitamin (that's pronounced vit-a-min not vite-a-min) D and shamelessly working on our 'tans'.
After a mild winter, we've still be graced with a lovely summer, with an occasional shower popping up to remind us that we are in fact in England. I've probably jinxed the whole thing now by writing about it, but I can't really complain. It's been one fantastic summer.

How did we spend it? Unlike most other Londoners, we didn't spend it getting out of the city. Since we were moving house, we spent nearly all of our time in London, enjoying the green spaces and crossing our fingers that Mother Nature continued to smile upon us. And despite getting a bit of travel fever, I'm glad that we stayed. We saw London at it's best and it will be something nice to look back on and remember once winter rolls around and we're back to cursing the rain and hoping for sunshine!

Of our trip to France, I was most excited about Mont Saint Michel - I scheduled a whole detour for us from Normandy so I could make it there. I had seen pictures, the idyllic island (in high tide) off the French coast. It was gorgeous, picturesque and something for a bucket list of places to see.

Then we visited and I realised I wasn't the only one with Mont Saint Michel on my bucket list.

There were thousands and thousands of other people trying to crowd themselves into this tiny island. We parked in the car park at the end of the road, squeezed ourselves into the stuffy shuttle with other passengers (wistfully watching those who made the wise decision to walk the mile there), then shuffled off to join the rest of the herd.

Once within the walls, we followed the road up to the cathedral. Luckily, we found some steep steps up that had deterred many other tourists, so we dashed our way up, hoping to find no one had decided to make the climb up. Our hopes were dashed and nearly as many people were waiting at the top for us as at the bottom. The medieval abbey was imposing - lots of large stones, none of the delicate decorations you may find today. It was interesting to see how it was built upon itself over time as the population grew. We filtered through chapel after chapel, with vaulted ceilings, then queued up to leave the place down a narrow staircase.

Low tide out behind the abbey

Once deposited back on the street, we followed the main road down. We passed street signs for butchers and cobblers that hinted back to the villages old history, but also reminded me a lot of Beauty & the Beast. I could certainly imagine Gaston rolling out of one of the locals belching.  A very short walk later and we were out, back on the road to wait for the buses to pick us up and return us to our cars. I could finally breathe.


Don't get me the wrong - the island is still picturesque, even in low tide when we went. I can only imagine being there when the place is truly an island in high tide. But. So. Many. People. I know that France gets a lot of tourists, but being 3 hours south of Paris and outside of the summer, I thought we could escape some of the crowds. You couldn't pay me enough to get me there in the middle of July. I know that sounds negative because, hey, I was one of those tourists. For me though, there wasn't anything to make this place special after all when you weren't able to explore nooks and crannies because you were being trampled by crowds. Part of the fun of visiting a place is finding hidden secrets and learning the history. The place probably had lots more for me to discover, it just wasn't possible with the number of people there. Plus, there are so many other places nearby with great histories and culture that probably have more to offer. Normandy is very nearby, or we stopped about 1 hour away at the Villedieu des Poeles for lunch and found it completely charming.

So with all that ranting, what's my verdict? If you want to go to see the island, snap your picture and check it off your bucket list? Go for it - it is beautiful, and perhaps even more beautiful from the balcony of your little B&B while you have breakfast (like we did) or at 7 am when they open before the tour buses arrive. If you still want to go, but want a truer experience, trying staying an evening on the island. However, there are only a few hotels on the island meaning they are expensive so make sure to book yourself in early.

I was looking for something to fill our schedule with between Paris and Normandy, since we checked out of our hotel at noon and needed to drive down shortly after. Versaille wasn't quite on the way, but as I looked at the map I realised that Giverny & Monet's house were.

I remembered Giverny from my first trip to Europe. My teenage brain remembered the famed bridge (and a particular photo where I was what is now know as photobombed by a Japanese tourist) and the story of the eclectic painting in his house.

What I either didn't remember, or was different 15 years ago, was all the people. We showed up around 3 pm, thinking we'll spend an hour roaming before continuing further down the coast. We were greeted by a full car park and a nice long line waiting in front of Monet's House.

Ariel and I roamed the streets while the boys waited, at first thinking we'd take in some gorgeous sites and find cute gifts, then realising the number of people prohibited that and instead focusing on finding a toilet.  We waited in line for 30-40 minutes before finally getting tickets, meaning our time was more restricted as they shut down at 5:30.  Since we were on a tight schedule, we bypassed the gift shop you're first led into and darted straight out to the gardens.

It was the perfect time of year to go, at the beginning of May. All the flowers were in full bloom and I've never before seen a garden so full of color. All types of tulips (taking me back to the days of the Lale festivals in Istanbul), lillies and thousands of others I couldn't even begin to name. And despite the lines out front, it seem as if most were interested in the water lillies, because very few were taking time to wander the gardens.

After taking time to stop and smell the roses, we decided it was time to join the rest at the bridge. If you've seen Monet's paintings, you'll recognise the difference now.  While perhaps even more beautiful, the wisteria covered bridge isn't quite what you remember from Monet's famous paintings. Nonetheless, people were lining up for pictures to post under it's archs.

The water lilies weren't yet out, or had already died for the year, so we simply wandered around the ponds before making it back to Monet's house.

This was our final stop - and truth be told it isn't too exciting. There's lots of artwork, but none of Monet's as his is all on exhibit elsewhere. The rooms are crowded and colourful, perhaps my favourite being his kitchen. But after 10 minutes, you realise you've seen it all and are dumped back out by the gift shop.

We made a few gift purchases, before heading back to our car.  While the gardens were beautiful, I'm not sure if the real deal lived up to my memory.  If you're considering a day trip from Paris, a morning visit may be better (or in the off season versus the shoulder season), but my expectation of a quiet country retreat was overshadowed by the tour buses and thousands of tourists milling on the street.