I'm accepting my outdoor-self . .

A note to remember . .

A dear friend of mine, a B.F.F. even, sent me a note when I left for London that I think of and smile.

It went like this:

Have a safe and comfortable flight, my BFF! I spent the summer of 1974 in England and loved it! Especially the rainy night I went to a pub with two handsome Englishmen. As the patrons in their Burberry trench coats came into the pub, they shook the water off their umbrellas and settled at the polished wood tables with their drinks. I think someone brought a large dog in as well. The rainy drive over the green downs, the Englishmen, the pub, the warm lager – this evening could have been a scene from a movie! I hope you have your own move-scene evening in England! Let me know when it happens.

Your BFF, Ronnie

Another full day . .

It may be called the London temple but it is nowhere near being within the city limits. But either way we loaded up the bus and set off to spend a few hours in the House of the Lord.

In true British fashion, we were greeted very politely, shuffled through and sent on our way. It was a perfect morning.

When we got back to the city, a group of us hopped on the Tube towards Picadilly Circus for a matinee of The 39 Steps. What talent, what humor, what entertainment.

And without a moment to catch our breathe after the show, we headed to the Aguirre family’s home on the outskirts of London.

In true Argentine fashion, we were greeted with shouting and enthusiasm, flooded with food and chatter, and hardly able to leave. It was a perfect evening.

British with a capital b . .

Before June 7, 2011, I had never felt more British.

A game of cricket in Hyde Park in the morning.
Afternoon tea at Kensington Palace in the afternoon.
And an evening showing of Mouse Trap, the world’s longest running play, at St. Martin’s Theatre.

Oh London, how I’ll miss thee.

Bathing in Bath . .

Visiting the baths in Bath, England was a treat. I’ve been hot tubbing in Provo more times than I can count so seeing the roots of hot tubbing just helped me to justify all of those late night dips during college.

The Romans went for more than to show off their “hot bods” (not why I go either), they went to meditate and worship in the natural springs – genius!

After learning this, five us grabbed our suits, paid our dues and took an overpriced, but much enjoyed, dip in an authentic bath – a roman bath.

This October . .

During my stay in London I received a text that changed everything. Well not quite everything, but it changed something – my plans in October.

The texting conversation went a little something like this.

Mom: I think you drew a deer tag for the Book Cliffs.

Me: Are you serious?

Mom: Actually, I don’t think so. I think it’s just a regular tag.

(She couldn’t believe it either)

(I was thinking, thank goodness)

Kyle: Scott, you got a deer permit to the Book Cliffs!

Mom: Kyle looked at it, and it’s true. You got it.

To most of you this probably means nothing, and quite honestly it didn’t mean that much to me either. The difference between you and me is that I know what this kind of news should mean and what it means to some people – some people like my dad or brothers, or good family friends.

It should have meant the world.

It can take between five and ten years of submission into the annual drawing to draw a deer tag to the Book Cliffs.

I got the permit from my first entry.

Knowing this, I became overwhelmed. In fact, it was more than overwhelming – I felt like I didn’t deserve it (which I don’t) since I didn’t really care. I entered the drawing on a whim, literally because everyone was doing it. It was one more step of what we call the “Scott Accepting His Outdooor-Self” Campaign.

But because I have the tag for this October, I’m going to make the most of it.

The Book Cliffs is where the monster bucks are – or so I’ve been told . . . or so I’ve been told my entire life!

My dad, his brother Dale, and best friends Rob and Byron used to hunt in the Book Cliffs every year during the 80’s and early 90’s, and according to their stories, they almost died every year. Because in every Book Cliffs hunting story their horses ran away, the snow was up to their waists, they ran out of food, all of their possessions were soaked and they were drinking the only water they could find from hoof prints on the ground.

Oh and I forgot to mention that they always came home with a monster buck.

Wicked . .

Stop rolling your eyes at all of the west-end shows I've been seeing. I'm American and I like American shows, so get over it.

I've seen Wicked in L.A., New York, and now London.

I have to say that seeing Wicked with British accents was charming. "Dancing through life" will never quite measure up to "dawncing through life." Trust me, there's a difference between the two.

Elphaba's voice in London was the most amazing sound I've ever heard live. I'd go again just to hear her . . sigh.

Legally Blonde . .

Legally Blonde, need I say more?

Okay, I probably do need to say more. A friend, who I respect, saw the show a few months ago and really loved it. Her recommendation was enough for me. I hadn't seen the movie then but I had a pretty good idea of what it might be like. The music was outstanding and it was ridiculously entertaining on all levels.

It was, what is was and I enjoyed every minute of it.

Windsor Castle . .

I visited the Queen's weekend home. I just loved what she's done with the place and the fluffy hat soldiers were a nice touch too.

It turns out we have way more in common than I thought. After watching this video you'll know why.

La Iglesia . .

I've heard some say that there is a church on every corner in Utah. Next time I hear that, I'll ask, "Have you been to Europe?"

I have visited many churches during the six weeks that I've been here so far. The churches are ancient and represent much of the history and culture of worship that once saturated this land and the lives of it's people. Now it seems they are crowded with tourists, photography and admission prices.

The churches are ornate and detailed to say the least. Everything about them is massive, and even suffocating. The style and custom craftsmanship represents work and dedication to God. I am always impressed by every carefully built square inch of the buildings.

On Sundays I attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I leave my house at nine a.m. and return home at three p.m. During that time I walk, ride a train, and walk some more, attend a sacrament meeting, teach a sunday school class, attend a priesthood meeting, walk, ride a train, and walk some more.

When I started attending the Clapham Common Ward six weeks ago I knew exactly what the meetings would be like, but I didn't know how much I would learn from other church members and especially from those I teach in the gospel principles class.

They are amazing.

Jersey Boys . .

If you don't think you know who the Four Seasons are, then I'll tell you that you do. Because you do.

"Sherry," "Walk Like a Man," "Oh What a Night" . . ringing a bell? Even if it's not, you've heard their songs on commercials at the very least.

The acting was solid and the singing was record quality. The show made me love their music even more because I learned how the group formed, fell apart, reformed and transformed into what it was in the end.

As I watched their story, I saw how and why they wrote their songs. Context is powerful.

More than anything, I'm just happy to know why "Big Girls Don't Cry."

Hampton Court . .

Music men . .

The changing of the guard in London is beautiful. The soldier's uniforms are majestic, they march in front of Buckingham Palace, and play shiny gold instruments - that's why it's beautiful.

Sure, they exclusively play American hits and you expect that at any moment they'll start playing the Star Spangled Banner followed by fireworks shot from behind the palace, but if you don't listen to the music, it's a completely British experience.

The Globe . .

I went to a play at the Globe Theatre. As You Like It was a perfect addition to my London experience.

Shows at the Globe are raw.

And get the standing tickets, the actors might even spit on you.

Punt this . .

Punting is an art. And it takes practice. That's what I learned from Cambridge.

Here is what wikipedia has to say:

A punt is a flat-bottomed boat with a square-cut bow, designed for use in small rivers or other shallow water. Punting refers to boating in a punt. The punter generally propels the punt by pushing against the river bed with a pole. A punt should not be confused with a gondola, which is propelled by an oar rather than a pole.

Punts were originally built as cargo boats or platforms for fowling and angling, but in modern times their use is almost exclusively confined to pleasure trips.

This is what punting is supposed to look like . .

This is what I look like while punting.

City of bikes . .

In many parts of Cambridge you can't drive - it's bikes only. I can't explain to you how many bikes there are. It was nuts. Okay fine, I'll try to explain. I was leaning up against a fence and a man riding his bike gave me the "you are wasting a perfectly good bike parking spot" and I was. I took a hint and told him I'd move. He verbally agreed that it was a good idea and I nodded in agreement. Provo parking flashbacks followed.

Spending the day in Cambridge was a delight. We went on a tour of Pennbrook College, King's College (where we ran into the Brother and Sister Tanner, yeah, the prominent Mormon folk), visited the Christopher Wren Library, went punting in the river behind the colleges and attended evensong at King's College Chapel.

I really wanted to eat at the Cambridge cafeteria. I was obsessed with doing it, obsessed enough to ask a Cambridge student to take me. Thank you Artes! My friend Alison joined Artes and I and it was a feast of food and people watching. Like all schools they have jocks, geeks, preps and mean girls.

Beyond the cafeteria, they also have the option to attend a formal dinner after evensong, which is also done every night. I love their traditions and the community it creates. The formal dinner is candlelit, robes are worn and waiters serve dinner. I had to peek in and it was 100% Harry Potter style.

I'd go every night.

Oh, and did I mention that there are bikes everywhere?

Scottish Gems . .

Here a few of the Scottish Gems I was talking about.

Only in Scotland . .

This is the cafe where J.K. herself started writing Harry Potter.
My family doesn't have a tartan but I would choose the blue one on the bottom row.
Plaid formals anyone?

Teach me Scottish . .

A British accent is one thing and a Scottish accent is another. I went on a tour of the castle in Edinburgh, Scotland and I probably understood about 70% of what the tour guide said. Seventy percent may sound like a lot but missing 30% is also missing a lot of information. Next time I’ll just have to stick to the audio tour.

Beyond the accents and the castles, Scotland is full of gems. Baked potatoes drenched in homemade mac ‘n cheese happened to be one of the more memorable gems. And if you know how I feel about mac ‘n cheese (and not the stuff out of the box) then you’ll know that I was happy as a lark.

I hiked Arthur’s seat, saw the Royal Yacht, walked the Royal Mile, pondered in the National Gallery, and ran to the top of Carlson Hill. Between the two views, I think I’ve seen a big chunk of Scotland. Okay, I probably missed more than 70% of it but the 30% that I think I saw but probably didn’t is a lot too.

Les Mis . .

Les Mis. Need I say more?

It was, what is was and I enjoyed every minute of it.

Durdle Door . .

Being on the beach makes me want to be a poet. I don’t think about anything deep or profound. I just think and thinking makes me want to be a poet.

We visited Durdle Door Beach on our way back from a trip to Bath, Bristol and Stonehenge. Between the high winds and the scenery, it took my breath away.

It was interesting to see what different people do on the beach. There were people singing any song they could think of (of course they were BYU students), some were skipping rocks, some walked down the beach with their socks off, others buried themselves in the pebbled sand, there was journal writing and I’m sure that were at least one or two idiots texting (such a chosen generation).

One day I’ll be a poet – beach or no beach.

A flop . .

Jekyll & Hyde was a flop, a belly flop.

Painful.

Stonehenge 101 . .

A few things I learned . .

Stonehenge was built between 3100 – 1100 BCE.

The circle was built to align with the midsummer sunrise, the midwinter sunset, and with the most southerly rising and northerly setting of the moon.

The formation and construction of Stonehenge demonstrates a great understanding in math and geometry.

The builders used two types of stones used in its construction: the bluestones which weighed as much as four tons and were brought from 240 miles away) and the Sarsen stones (averaging about eighteen feet in height and twenty-five tons in weight).

Experts have also estimated that the construction of Stonehenge required more than thirty million hours of labor.

There are more than nine hundred stone rings exist in the British Isles but Stonehenge is the most well known. I also visited one in Avebury - it had a much larger radius.

The rock formations in Britain predate eastern Mediterranean, Egyptian, Mycenaean and Greek cultures.

Something I didn't learn . .

If aliens built it.

Just me and my camera . .

Shopping with your camera is more fun than you think. I'm on a new kick, well it's not really a new kick, it's more of a lifelong plan. I like to collect things, or at least I used to. While in London, I'm not buying anyTHING. By that I mean, I'm not buying things - I'm just buying experiences.

If you haven't read this, then read it and you'll see what I mean - I gave you two links so go on and read it.

A few weeks ago a group of us went to Abbey Road and got our picture. Check that one off the bucket list. We arrived at 7 a.m. to avoid major traffic. I admire anyone who snaps this shot successfully. It's a challenge to dodge cars AND pose.

Shortly after we headed over to Portobello Market (you know the market from Notting Hill where Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts fall in love). It's just a few blocks from where I live and it's everything a market should be; lots of antiques, delicious food, fresh produce and fascinating people.

Here are three things I bought with my camera. Yes, even the camera is on a budget.

Cell phones are so overdone.
Yes, it's a door knocker. I've always wanted a lion on my door and now I'll have a functional lion on my door.
You can never have enough luggage and I'm sure it could double as a coffee table.

This is my kind of market.

*Correction . .

Okay, sooooo I guess I've had a few more nicknames than I thought. I've received a few emails with additions, rightful additions. Here are the ones I forgot: Scotty Wot, Scotty Enchilady, Scotty K.C. and The Great Gatsby.

Happy now? If you can think of any others, leave a comment.

This picture taken at Tintern Abbey in Wales.

Chills, the good kind . .

Lion King the musical was a creative explosion. Yes, an explosion. I was overwhelmed and moved. The costumes, the singing, the dancing and the feeling created gave me chills song after song.

A few days later I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum and found costumes from the show in their theater exhibit. Once again, chills. This time it was the mask, the beads, the fabric and the elegance. Seeing them up close was a whole new experience.

For my art class I have to sketch two pieces of art in every museum we visit in London. I sketched these costumes. As I sketched, I got to know every inch of the costume. And now I can say with more surety than I ever wanted that costume designer Julie Taymor knew exactly what she was doing and she did it well.

Brilliance, pure brilliance.

Nicknames . .

I've had a few nicknames in my day . .

Scotty, Scoot, Scooter, Cristofero, Christy (short for my last name - a missionary thing) but when I arrived in London I got a new nickname.

So, I'm studying abroad in London. I know, I know . . great way to avoid reality after graduation, right? Right! It was now or never, and it's now . . apparently. So let's sum it up. 35 girls. 6 guys (I'll explain later). 3 professors and their families. 2 brazilians (they cook and tidy up).

Back to the nickname thing. One of my professors has the most adorable four year old daughter and she calls me Scotch.

And now, so does everyone else.

Oh and that list of people - 61 in total. Yeah we all live together in the same house, but I'll save that for another post.

My dad is an artist . .

My dad always sketches a little something during commencement and/or convocation. I got one for high school graduation and I got one for college graduation. And I love them both the same.

I'm sure it keeps him awake but I will always cherish the messages, the inside jokes and the thought.

Thanks, Dad.

A jaunt down south . .

Just before winter semester ended my family spent the weekend in St. George to celebrate my graduation, Kade's birthday and just life in general. Not to mention, we like to hang out together - any excuse is a good excuse.

Lou had many moments of event planning genius including the graduation cap desserts. How sweet are those?! I’m still dreaming about the trays of peanut butter bars she made (my personal favorite).

Among eating, golfing and hiking, we even made a little time for a game of speed and dodgeball in the backyard. Dodgeball gets even better after elementary school, especially when you hear adult participants say things like, “let’s take out the little kids first, and then we’ll worry about the adults” or “oh my gosh, I just hit my baby with the ball.”

Even though my siblings have mortgages and kids of their own, we love to play the same old games and laugh about the same old things.

Some things never change. Thank goodness.