We landed in a home whose gardens hide an underground tunnel to the sea that purportedly inspired Lewis Carroll's rabbit hole. So began our life just left of the rabbit hole.
No Harry Potter fan can truly say they've lived in England until they've done the Warner Brothers Studio Tour London. So, with a fellow Harry-Potter-obsessed cousin in the UK for the moment, we scheduled our trip, but things didn't quite go as planned. After she and her friends arrived an hour ahead of schedule, and traffic put us an hour behind, Nicolas and I didn't exactly see the people we'd planned the trip around. Nonetheless, we did get to take a peek behind the curtain of the Harry Potter films. To say this tickled one of us much more than the other is a massive understatement.
A bit of Cupboard Under the Stairs action to whet your appetite while awaiting the tour.
Having barely made it into the second-to-last tour of the day, we shuffled along the snaking queue that led us into a mini cinema. The guides worked (some of) us up over a promotional film featuring many of the films' stars and then, finally, they raised the screen and pushed open a set of double doors to reveal the Great Hall, home of the sorting hat's fateful sortings and countless Hogwarts feasts. So began the tour of the making of Harry Potter.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts! Admittedly somewhat less magical sans Enchanted Ceiling. Still, I wouldn't turn down my owl if it brought my admissions letter tomorrow.
Winding past scenery, props, and costumes, we got to learn about the real-world wizardry behind the big screen magic.
And the behind-the-scenes studio tour begins! You've got your Gryffindor Common Room, Snape's Potions Classroom, Dumbledore's Office, the Triwizard Tournament Yule Ball costumes, and more.
One of my favorite tidbits were the feature on the animals of Harry Potter-- who knew there'd been so many for each animal character? Apparently owls are dreadfully hard to train, nothing like the corvids who'll happily get behind any new tricks the training crew had up their sleeve. And all those Fangs and Mrs. Norrises were to die for! Each with their own skill sets and personalities. I wish I had the patience to be an animal handler!
A wall of Animal Actors of Harry Potter đź’•
And then there was the bit on making Hagrid. When it came to creating a half giant on the big screen, the crew had an idea or two. They started with a 6'6"? rugby man and built from there. He was put in a costume with stilts and an entire interior ventilation system. Seriously.
Any tour through the magical wizarding world of Harry Potter has to be washed down with a sip of butter beer. And despite warnings to the contrary, it wasn't horrible. And I just couldn't wrap my head around the drink's head-- a frothy, ice-creamy set of bubbles perched atop of a caramel-flavored cream soda.
So. Excited. For. Butterbeer. Can you tell?
Of course, Nicolas was not in luck: the tour did not end after the cafe stop. No, we were only getting started. (Or really, half way there.)
Dragged my husband down Diagon Alley, and got the photo to prove it! Life achievement unlocked.
4 Privet Drive inundated with Hogwarts letters, Olivander's shelves stacked with boxed wands, the Weasleys' Burrow, Dolores Umbridge's office, the Ministry of Magic, a hippogriff, and more. My high-school-nerd heaven.
Successfully dragging me through the gift shop without my picking up a single wand or magical set of earrings was probably Nicolas's greatest victory of the day. After one last admiring look upon the statues of the wizards from a world where I'd much rather belong, we tucked ourselves back into our decidedly unenchanted Ford Fiesta and made the long ride home.
Wait for it... drum roll... after two months of itching, I finally jetted off for my first business trip as a Scientifica engineer. Woohoo! Of course, it wasn't all fun and games. There was company politics, more than I'd expected, and professional niceties, and the weird pleasure of being in my familiar spaces in a totally different capacity. To be enveloped in the dark, with only the glow of highly magnified neurons seeping off a monitor, chatting science, enjoying the highlights of my old world, all the while knowing that I would be leaving the grunt work of actual research to some other poor soul: what a thrill. I think you can say this is the job for me.
And then came Friday afternoon. Sure, there was the 6pm flight home. But there was also a 9:30pm departure. And who could hold me back from a few hours out in the town, finally getting to see the place where I'd been planted for the past half week? This time it was Frankfurt, which has been described to me as "the Canary Wharf of Germany." It's basically one giant finance center, but since this is Europe, even giant finance centers have the historic old town to be explored. And I wasn't alone: this was Nelly the Neuron's maiden voyage too. Yes, we have a new team mascot. (And yes, I made its hat.)
Painting the town purple with Nelly the Neuron on our first Scientifica trip at Goethe University in Frankfurt
Sight-seeing in Frankfurt in between the storms: the Imperial Cathedral of Saint Bartholomew, Paulsplatz, Stern Kaffee, and the historic old town
A happy customer, a freshly functioning microscope, and a touristed Emilienne: I think we can count my first business trip as an overall success.
June may be Pride Month, but the UK saves its biggest celebration for the start of August. And this year, the rainbow flags came out in full force to celebrate fifty years since the partial decriminalization of homosexuality in England and Wales. Pride began bright and early on Saturday morning, with grannies in their wheelchairs draped in flags out for their morning stroll (roll?) through town by 9am. (The fact that I too was convinced to be up that early, en route to my spin studio's 10am "Pride Ride," is still beyond me.) The Parade floats and drag queens were also out and about, mulling along the Hove Lawns awaiting the start of the big parade. The detour through the Lawns en route to my "Pride Ride" thrilled me, since we'd made the mistake to accept an invitation in London on the Saturday of Brighton's Pride, meaning this was about the closest I'd make it to most of this year's parade.
Snippets of Brighton's Pride 2017
The LGBT community first paraded in Brighton in 1973, though the Pride Parade didn't become an annual tradition until 1991, when it returned as a mostly political march. My how times have changed. Today, Brighton Pride a massive city-wide party, drawing crowds of 300,000, according to the BBC, and leaving the city looking like an abandoned war zone by 1 in the morning, when we returned from our day in the capitol.
You've got to credit to the party planners, who ensured that by 10 this morning, the city was sparkling (and not just from the tiny shards of broken bottles that couldn't be swept away). Having purchased Sunday Pride tickets, we hit the streets mid-afternoon to see what the Pride village party was all about. Answer: for the most part, one massive, afternoon, outdoor clubbing scene. Not exactly us. But you can't live in Brighton and never try Pride. So now we've been there, done that.
Next year I think we'll just catch the parade, admissions-free, and then wind our way down to the beach with some blankets and drinks. And how amazing to be able plan for next year! It's only been a year since I picked up our keys to our first flat in Brighton, during Pride weekend 2016, but after the uncertainty this past year has brought, it's an exquisite luxury to think about the sitting under the sunshine on the Brighton beach a year from now, and know that we can (probably) count on it. Well, except perhaps for the sun part. This is England, after all.
Saint Paul's Cathedral of London: the site, for over 1400 years, of Christian worship. And now, one less to-do on my London touristing list. While I've never been terribly enamoured by the city, when living so close to the capitol, it seems almost criminal to not properly explore. So this weekend, having been drawn into the city to bid farewell to one of my closest friends, it seemed a fine occasion to say hello to a few others. And what better way than by getting out and enjoying the city together?
Exploring a rainy London, en route from afternoon tea to evensong at Saint Paul's
At Emily's suggestion, we cashed in on the admission-free way to explore the first cathedral built for the Anglican Church—attending evensong. Evensong is an evening choral religious service of which the Brits (more specifically, the Anglican Church) are particularly fond. We walked in anticipating the ornate walls echoing the hauntingly beautiful voices of choir boys for perhaps a half hour or so. What we hadn't bargained on was a proper service, complete with a series of readings and even an entrance and exit processional. And as for the choir, they hailed all the way from Philadelphia.
So I found myself five time zones and a continent away from the homes where I'd grown up, only to be seated a few hundred feet away from performers who'd lived around the corner from me. It seemed like a raw deal, if you ask me. Luckily, the backdrop did a fair bit to compensate for it.
A sneak peek inside Saint Paul's, where photography during evensong is strictly prohibited
And the company wasn't half bad either. For a couple of hours before venturing into a Christian service, I enjoyed the company of friends from MIT/Paris, Denmark, and a childhood penpal's twin sister, a random assortment who've all since landed in London.
Outside Saint Paul's, in good company
They reminded me of the wide net of friends that I've been able to cast through a life constantly on the move, a welcome thought at a time when such a lifestyle's been leaving me feeling particularly lonely. It seems that making friends in each new place you land gets progressively trickier with age. And that coming from someone who's only just hit 30. Hopefully Brighton will offer up a few more friendships in the months to come. And for now, at least I know I've got some good ones waiting for me on the other end of an hour's train journey.
When it comes to luck and us over the past twelve months—a job loss two months in, after having relocated to a new country; a forced rushed marriage for a visa and the abandonment of our early plans for a big wedding in the summer of 2018; an arduous and bank-breaking job hunt; an eviction—let's say our track record isn't great. And this week we can add one more tick to that tally: a lost engagement ring. On Monday afternoon while packing down a microscope at work, I looked down at my finger only to realize to my horror that all that remained on my finger was this empty shell of a ring:
No matter how many boxes I turned over, the stone was not to be found. (At least I felt vindicated in my beliefs that no one should wear something that expensive on a finger! While emotional, this didn't amount to a massive financial loss.)
The best course of action was to find a replacement, but every road I electronically wandered down led to head-aches and even worse wallet-aches. Luckily, if there's one thing I learned over the course of my (two) wedding(s) this year, it's the wonders of ebay for discounted online shopping. No sooner had I opened my app than I'd discovered a world of broken marriages ending in diamond rings posted for auction at a fraction of their original price. Still, I held firm on my stance against the mass marketing ploy that is the diamond engagement ring. But ebay doesn't restrict itself to the "forever" stone: I dove in for an Ernest Jones blue topaz, sapphire, and white gold replacement, with Nicolas's nod of approval.
My precious, version 2.0
While I can't pretend to be thrilled about the loss of such a special ring, the replacement hasn't left me too disappointed.
As of this week, our new home was officially "moved in" enough to bring in a cleaning woman. (I cannot say how much I love being grown up enough to have the income and priorities to employ someone else to keep my home sparkling.) Well, if the flat is now feeling like home, it seems to me to time to share my handy work/the object of my obsession over the past couple of months.
Us at the mouth of Alice's rabbit hole, in our private gardens just outside our old home
Now, rather than simply making a left at the mouth of the tunnel and escaping the gardens to reach our front door, we've added another 5 blocks to the trek and lost the magical key to the gardens where the rabbit hole hides. Today, our private gardens are a mere strip of manicured flower beds protected by a sign that says No Dogs, rather than 5 acres of Wonderland under lock and key. But life's not all bad 5 blocks further left of the rabbit hole.
Without more ado, welcome to our anything-but-humble, eviction-landed-us-here, seafront flat (which yes, we share with a flatmate—no way we could afford this on our own, but no it's not that bad). No, this is not too bad at all.
Welcome in! Walk into our home (see top left photos), and open the door (bottom left). You'll see two hallways side by side to your left. Peering down the first one (bottom middle photo), you'll see the door into our flatmate's suite. Just beyond it, you can take a peek into our hallway (top right photos, and bottom right). But first, let's take a turn to the right and into our shared spaces.
And one more close-up this time to show off our dining corner. Although half of these decorations had hung in our previous kitchen and the other in our living room, I think they paired nicely in this iteration of chez Nicolas et Emilienne
Wander into our bedroom suite. Top left: just past the Brighton photo frame, you walk through the door to what delineates our private part of our flatshare. Top right: peek over your shoulder as you let the door slide shut behind you. Bottom left: continue down our private hallway. Bottom middle: turn your head to the right as you reach the end of our hallway to peer into our massive bathroom. Not only do we have a tub, but behind the bathroom door is nestled a shower stall, and even a bidet. We're that fancy now. Bottom right: enter into the lower level of our bedroom suite.
And in case you didn't notice our bedroom chandelier in the previous collage, let me dedicate an entire subsequent collage to it, because I am pretty damned proud of this thing. The Venetian mask chandelier is my own, original, one-off creation, a reincarnation of a very different chandelier that I accidentally smashed during our move...
Yes, believe it or not, this was the previous life of my Venetian mask chandelier, until it befell an unfortunate and unintended fate at my hands.
And, saved the best for last: the views from that expansive living room.
It's official: not only are we married, but we're done with wedding planning—for now. Last weekend, in between our recent move and my new job, we squeezed in a quick trip to the States for Wedding #2. That's right, with us, the fun never ends. And we pulled this wedding off by the skin of our teeth.
Chic yet cozy in what one Parisian (Nicolas) is calling "the new burka." Ah, the glamour of flying in economy class. (En route to our US wedding reception.)
Other than checking off the venue, sending a round of invites, and finding the The Dress version 3.0, we didn't really give this wedding much thought until June, at which point we realized we were looking at a 60-person guest list and all we'd planned was brunch. What the heck were we supposed to do with all those people traveling from all across the US (and even Canada)??
First thing's first: if it's a wedding, there should be some sort of ceremony. But, not much for theatrics, Nicolas and I figured the most genuine solution was to share a short reel of highlights from the our actual I do's. With the help of some friends and Light Works free video editing software, we got on that. But that and the musical performance from Nicolas's dad would hardly fill up an entire 3 hour brunch, so we got on the internets and found ourselves some wedding games to fill the gaps.
Find The Guest Bingo, one of our wedding games, an ice breaker that sent guests searching the room for people with certain professions, hobbies, and years of high school graduation, among other traits
We'd also had the idea that there should be an after party at my parents' place, but we figured no one would really show up at a Sunday evening shindig other than local family and friends. Spoiler: were we ever wrong! Luckily, having bought enough to feed a small army, that wasn't a problem.
And finally, we'd vaguely planning to do "something touristy" on Saturday with any out-of-town guests who might be mulling about in Philly on the day before the reception. Mid-June, we emailed out to see who'd be game, and interest levels blew us away: a full third of our wedding guests were up for it! Time pressures tested our organizational skills, but with a week and a half to go, we managed to schedule, cancel, and reschedule a walking tour of historic Philly followed by dinner and drinks. Ultimately, we settled on a tour with Urban Adventures followed by an evening overlooking the Liberty Bell at Independence Beer Garden. And, miraculously enough, it all worked out.
Walking tour highlights. Top row: the most random billboard, Elfreth's Alley (the oldest residential street in America), Nicolas and me in front of Independence Hall, and the B. Free Franklin Post Office and Museum. Bottom row: Another shot of Elfreth's Alley, a studio covered in the mosaics of Isaiah Zagar, the wild mastermind behind Philadelphia's Magic Gardens (where I'd have chosen to host our wedding if they did weekend receptions), and the whole gang of "kids" in front of Independence Hall.
With two tour guides, our groups naturally broke into the "grown ups" and the "kids" tours, where "kids" were defined as more or less those under 40. Our guide was full of fun and random facts, perhaps most memorable of which was Betsy Ross's love life. After losing her first husband, she found a replacement, only to lose him as he wasted away in a jail cell. But never fear, the cell mate held on long enough to make his way out of jail and into the arms of Mrs. Ross, as husband #3.
The lovely Independence Beer Garden, overlooking the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, where we spent the evening with 20 or so out-of-town guests before wedding #2
When the tour ended at the Independence Beer Garden, things were touch and go for a minute or so—first off when the bouncer decided that European state-issued IDs would not be accepted for people under 30 (which is a problem when the groom is a 29-year-old Frenchman), and again once we'd wrangled past the bouncer, when we discovered that seating was going to be a challenge. But no sooner had my mom disappeared into the deepest reaches of the garden in a last-ditch seating search when the table right beside us asked for the bill. In short succession, the two adjacent tables also downed their last glasses. Within 20 minutes or so, we'd seated a party of 20 side-by-side sans reservation in a happening, center city beer garden on a glorious mid-summer Saturday evening.
The pre-wedding(#2) party at the Independence Beer Garden!
We wound the evening down a few blocks over, at the Franklin Fountain, a historically-inspired soda fountain where my father-in-law was reminded of just why you shouldn't order a large cone in a US ice cream shop. :)
Wrapping up our evening over root beer floats, ladies' choices, and oversized ice cream cones at the Franklin Fountain
The following morning, as the unlikely musical duo of my father-in-law and my sorority sister Xiao Xiao ironed out their piano/cello duet, I sat in a salon getting arguably my best hair and make-up of this entire marital extravaganza.
Admiring my latest bridal look as it came together deliciously in the salon
I emerged an hour and a half later, decked out like someone straight from the Great Gatsby, and surprisingly pleased by just how this look had pulled together, from the Jacques Vert fascinator to the Irregular Choice heels. My elementary school teacher pulled up in her SUV at 5 to noon to take me over for my big surprise—for once, Nicolas didn't know what to expect with regards to my wedding attire.
Outfit reveal (and the miracles ebay shopping): Jacques Vert fascinator (originally £79, purchased for £35), one-off Timothy O'Sullivan (former Jenny Packham pattern cutter) '20s-inspired hand-made wedding gown (similarly-styled Jenny Packham gowns retail for about £3000, purchased for £300), Mary Frances Mercury Rising handbag (originally £189, purchased on ebay for £38), Irregular Choice Courtesan Floral Bar heels (originally £79, purchased for £40)
The three-hour brunch breezed past.
Bella Tori at the Mansion was all decked out in an classic/shabby chic charm for our US wedding reception.
We hardly showed face during the first twenty minutes of our reception, between our "first look" and posed family photos.
The "First Look": for once, Nicolas didn't actually know what to expect!
Families saying cheese
Then came our grand entrance as husband and wife, followed by a quick toast and the wedding ceremony highlights video.
Our grand entrance as husband and wife was followed by a short but sweet toast from my mom before we launched the wedding video, throwing our guests back into April 15 on the south coast of England for the next 6 minutes.
Nicolas's dad and my sorority sister Xiao Xiao had devoted a nice chunk of their weekend to perfecting their wedding duet on piano and cello. I think they thoroughly impressed the crowd.
Xiao Xiao and Serge performed a duet on the piano and cello
Between all the group photos and the requisite wedding drama, it was time to thank our guests before we'd hardly said hello.
The group shots of sorority sisters, 5th Westers, and high school friends, which felt like they ate up nearly half of the reception, turned out to be a surprisingly good way to steal small groups away from the party one at a time to have a chance to catch up in a more intimate setting.
The brevity of it all hammered home how meaningful it had been to spend the previous afternoon with so many of the out-of-town guests. Only as we began our goodbyes did we start to understand (to our delight) just how many people weren't saying bye just yet—they'd all scheduled in our after party. (Thank you, withjoy—our wedding website—for spreading the word!)
Pink hearts and Congrats! balloons jostled each other above our mailbox, surrounded by a fleet of vehicles, as we pulled up to my parents' driveway. Soon enough, we'd pulled the beer tap dry and the backyard card game was going strong. For all you horrible people who love Cards Against Humanity and are considering marriage, I can't recommend Cads About Matrimony highly enough. It was the perfect way to mark my wedding with my cousins, that crowd with whom I stay up late one night just after Christmas each year to continue the hallowed tradition that is Cousins Campout, which has matured like a fine wine from tents in backyards as kids, to steins and late night games now that we've come of age. I'm pretty sure this won't be the last time that card game makes an appearance at an Aloia family wedding.
No after party is complete without the after-after party. At least that's what we decided as the part wound down to my 5th West (college dorm) and Paris friends. We hopped in our cards and drove down to Philly to toast the night over beers and bar food at an unexpected Sunday night happy hour at Kraftwork. I can't believe how much I've missed that crew. Having them all together and reliving all the crazy moments brought me back to the best that MIT offered me. It was unreal. I can't express how glad I am to see that these relationships haven't been lost to time, a reassurance I can't often have when living on the other side of an ocean.
The after-after-party at Kraftwork
I was so touched to see so many friends and family from so many stages of my life coming together after all these years. I guess the years had numbed me to how much I miss everyone. I may love life in Europe, but this weekend drove home some of the sacrifices that have come with the lifestyle I choose. But, surrounded by so much love, it was hard for any of that realization to feel bittersweet just then.
As for the rest of the trip, there's not much to say. There was some passport renewal, then more passport renewal—write that off as a general fiasco. Suffice it to say that Nicolas's first trip to the East Coast of the US included way more of the inside of admin buildings that of actual tourist attractions. At least this East Coast trip shouldn't be his last.
And after it all was over, there were at least a pair of furry someones who were not unhappy to see their humans come to their senses and return to England.
Finally, back at home in England with our furbabies.
