W
e are now truly on the cusp of winter here in Sydney, having woken up the last few days to blinding fog and chill. I spend much of each year longing for weather such as this, for an excuse to bring out warm coats, scarves and boots. Right now however, I find myself missing the life and vitality of spring. These photos were taken on a rainy day two years ago, at the annual flower festival Floriade in Canberra.
V
ersailles is one of those places you stand in the middle of and can still barely believe actually exists. The sheer amount of gold and crystal positively dripping from every conceivable surface is an absolute assault on the senses, as are the priceless treasures scattered around every corner. I spent much of my Europe trip being dazzled by castles and palaces, but of them all, Versailles is undoubtedly the embodiment of opulence.
Napoleon crowning his wife Empress Josefina
M
y
love affair with the United Kingdom and all things British has lasted most of
my life. I couldn’t tell you when it first started, when my upbringing was that
of any Chinese child raised in China. I couldn’t tell you the moment when I
realised that almost without exception, everything I loved – history, King
Arthur, Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes – had its roots in England. Nevertheless,
this sense of anglophilia has been one of the defining features of my identity.
As such, there was never any doubt in my mind that my first overseas trip (discounting the move to Sydney) would be to Europe. A Eurotrip is a fairly standard rite of passage these days, and certainly for those consumed by wanderlust like me. But time and monetary constraints meant that my friends and I could, as of last year, only go for three weeks. We wanted to immerse ourselves in a country as much as possible with such a limited time, and thus sacrificed most of what was on our still inconclusive list of places to visit. Not going to the UK was not, however, ever a possibility.
We started our journey with a week in Paris, and I will be blogging about that soon. But for all that I loved about the city, it was when I set foot on English soil at St. Pancras International Station that I truly felt at home.
As such, there was never any doubt in my mind that my first overseas trip (discounting the move to Sydney) would be to Europe. A Eurotrip is a fairly standard rite of passage these days, and certainly for those consumed by wanderlust like me. But time and monetary constraints meant that my friends and I could, as of last year, only go for three weeks. We wanted to immerse ourselves in a country as much as possible with such a limited time, and thus sacrificed most of what was on our still inconclusive list of places to visit. Not going to the UK was not, however, ever a possibility.
We started our journey with a week in Paris, and I will be blogging about that soon. But for all that I loved about the city, it was when I set foot on English soil at St. Pancras International Station that I truly felt at home.
These are the photos from my day trip out to Windsor. Unfortunately photography was not permitted inside the actual rooms, but I can say that it was everything you could ever imagine about a proper castle. There were plush carpets and grand staircases upon which royalty and some of the most brilliant minds have walked. Grand suits of armour and arms adorned the walls, as did priceless treasures from parts of the empire and the most exquisite royal china and silverware. It was all breathtakingly grand. As to the outside, well, let the photos speak for themselves.
