A weekend with family

My family just left a few hours ago, leaving me a bit really homesick. It has been a wonderful weekend, just too short for my taste. We’re not sure when they’ll be able to visit again, so I am now counting down to the next 34 days, when I’ll fly home for Christmas (for just two weeks – but that’s better than none at all).

We didn’t follow my original plan too closely on Saturday – mainly because it was way too intensive. It was a beautiful sunny day, but gosh was it cold! We started by walking through UAL to Tate Britain, followed the river to Westminster, went on a Thames cruise up to St. Katherine’s dock and back, ate at Borough Market, went on to visit the Natural History Museum (which is, as I had been already warned, not only fun to walk around, but amazingly beautiful; and most of the pictures I’m publishing from yesterday were taken there!), then went home to rest a bit before dinner. I don’t think it looks like much but I swear by the end of the day we were exhausted, maybe because it was hard for me to move easily from bus to bus downtown and we waited for transportation and changed lines a lot. I tried to get us to move above ground most of the time though, because it meant my family could see a few more things they would have missed otherwise (Trafalgar Square, Harrods with its Christmas lights, Hyde Park).

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(My favourite photo from the weekend!)

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All in all, I am very happy. I know homesickness will subdue when I get back into the whirlwind that my days always are. I was finally able to sleep really, really well these two past nights. There are more visits planned (which means more work on weekdays!) I am going back for Christmas. I now know more nice places to eat out in my neighbourhood – and my pantry is filled with pesto and good, good extravirgin olive oil… and myself is too, with love and gratitude.

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2 thoughts on “A weekend with family

  1. Io adoro quando i miei vengono a trovarmi. Al di là del piacere di rivederli dal vivo, portano con loro un pezzetto di casa, il profumo delle cose familiari, la mia lingua madre.. è un po’ come ritrovare se stessi e le proprie origini.
    Ed è vero, grazie a loro si scoprono nuovi ristoranti, nuovi posti dove andare, nuovi angoli a cui prima non avevamo fatto caso

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