So my family has a group chat. Most families do, right? Almost two dozen people in the chat – some from the US, most from the UK. Created during our latest family reunion, it was a must-have when coordinating all of the comings and goings of family during those few weeks. And though the trip has come and gone, the chat remains. Often a source of banter and general knowledge swapping, these days, it’s been something to really look forward to. A space where, for once, family on two separate continents somehow share the same experience, the same struggles, the same news. Covid-19. And while scrolling through the latest posts, two thoughts popped in my head:

1. I’m just so grateful to have shared the memories I did with these folks – and to understand some (just some) of the antics shared back and forth through this chat each day.

2. OH CRAP! I never did my vacation recap!!!!

It’s been a whopping SEVEN MONTHS since this trip. Some will say this post is looong overdue, but as I put my thoughts together, as I reviewed old photos and really relived my time abroad, I realized what a blessing the timing of this post Is. It really couldn’t be better. The opportunity to share details from one of the best trips of my life has lifted my spirits, allowing me to smile during an otherwise heavy time. I often wonder how my perspective may have been shifted at this time, if this recap were completed immediately upon my return. If I didn’t procrastinate months. If I wasn’t able to truly appreciate everything that this trip was, especially right now, in a year that is really testing so much.

When I scroll through my photos, I still have trouble believing I was actually on an entirely different continent for the majority of September 2019. Like, a few different time zones away. In entirely different worlds, it seemed. Europe was magical. I know, needless to say, right? People often ask if this was my first visit overseas. Short answer? No. This was my 3rd trip “across the pond.” My first international flight was at age 4, then again at 14, and now, in my thirties. A trip that was long desired and even briefly planned (a number of times) was finally happening and I had every intention of squeezing in as much as I could in a 20-day window. I spent the months leading up to the trip digging deep to remember as many memories as I could from my last visit. I remember the excitement I felt at 14 to visit family and retain actual memories, a stark contrast from my first visit at age 4. And I did. I had many memories of time spent with family and certain opportunities around town. But to pop overseas in my thirties? Now, THAT was going to be special. I was certain to retain experiences, see the world from a different perspective and really soak in all the values and life teachings that Europe so effortlessly exudes. And that’s what I want to share – the nuggets of life knowledge that I packed up and brought back with me at the close of my trip. Such priceless souvenirs!

If you’re one of those folks who wants to relive it all with me, you’re in luck. Grab some popcorn and your favorite bevvie and get ready for all the details. If you’re dreaming of a trip overseas (once life returns to normal, of course) and just need some quick travel tips or things to know, scroll through and check out the TRAVEL TIP boxes in between. I’ve got you covered! And if you’re here for the photos (let’s be real), I’m got plenty of those for you too!

Overpacking is overrated. 

FUN FACT: I packed ONLY a backpack and a carry-on for three weeks overseas. I know what you’re thinking – HOW? I still have no idea, to be completely honest. But I will say this – overpacking is totally overrated. Coming out on the other side, successfully, I carry a new mindset when packing for trips longer than a weekend. There’s a beautiful release when traveling abroad – like, you just don’t need to have it all together. Does that make sense? I know you want to look cute in your Pinterest-curated European outfits, and you can’t be caught dead in the same outfit in front of multiple attractions, but unless you’re hiring someone to travel with you and carry your luggage, do yourself a favor and travel light. Mix and match pieces and give yourself an excuse to shop while you’re there. I snagged a duffle bag a few days before my flight home and loaded it with items I’d picked up along the way. For a 3-week trip, I packed the following:

• 2 pair of pants, 5-6 shirts, 1 blouse, 3 pairs of shoes (booties, Nikes, flats), and a raincoat. Oh, and pajamas of course.

Keep it simple. You’ll be so happy you did.

LEG ONE: LA – London – Paris

Paris. A city I wouldn’t believe I was in if not for the photos to prove it. One that’s on so many bucket lists and one that I was pleasantly surprised by.  We stayed about half an hour or so outside of Paris in Boulogne – Billiancourt, a quiet suburb on the western side where we checked in to the Courtyard by Marriott, Boulogne. Because of the many horror stories I’d heard about the French not taking very kindly to Americans, not speaking the language, etc., I was kinda paranoid about our hotel accommodations in France. Though not particularly close to the city, I opted for an American hotel chain, as I hoped for a glimmer of English here, if spoken no where else. While I may not have received the true Parisian experience of a quaint little AirBnB or a French inn, I had peace knowing that I would be able to communicate with staff in order to get around the city.  It was just after 10pm and we were starving. Almost 24 straight hours of travel, 3 airports, 2 shuttles, and the same outfit all day long, all we wanted was food, a shower, and a bed. Buuut because we stayed in more of the residential area of Boulogne, everything closed early. Like, EVERYTHING. The streets were dark, there were practically no cars driving by, and again, paranoid Monique didn’t want to walk too far in either direction just in case we had no idea – and no help – getting back. As we started walking in one direction, my brother quickly turned us around towards the other for hope in finding a Yelp recommendation. *insert heavenly bells here* M.S. Factory was open! A local’s hideout. Food. Shower. Bed. Yesss!

People are kind.

Parisians hate Americans. Learn the basics of French. They won’t talk to you.  That’s all I heard. For weeks. My goodness – I can’t even begin to tell you the fear I built up just thinking that I would be unable to communicate in this country. I really spent my entire planning process terrified of speaking English in France. I was ready to pay double for a hotel just to stay somewhere where English wasn’t frowned upon. The truth is that, just like all of the cities we visited during our stay, the Parisians were such kind people. Sure, we were only in the city for less than 48 hours, but in that time, the people we encountered were incredibly friendly (well, except the metro attendant), eager to help in any way, and much more welcoming than I anticipated. I didn’t even need much of my Duolingo training since they openly conversed in English. My encouragement is to abandon the hype, go explore and draw your own conclusions. There are certain to be a few bad apples among the bunch, but it’s quite comforting to engage with the locals, especially when it puts to rest a fear of being rejected. *shrugs* Maybe that’s just my Enneagram #2 coming out.

Anyway, we had one – and only one – full day in Paris. Because of our desire to want to jet over to Amsterdam and still stick to our jam-packed UK agenda, this was all we had to spare. So we were up early, sneakers on, ready to explore the bulk of this romantic city. Two claps for no jetlag! We strolled through the quiet streets of Bolougne towards a metro station about five blocks away. This was, hands down, the most difficult part of our trip. Navigating the metro when everything’s in French is…a challenge. THIS must be the area where the French don’t translate very kindly, or assist in any way. The attendant was zero help and we had to rely on Google threads and a “let’s just wing it” mentality. I was certain that whatever stop we hopped off at, we’d be able to see the Eiffel Tower. My only concern was that we’d hop on a train going in a direction opposite of the tower and be stranded in a city unknown. Somehow we managed and when we emerged from the underground train, a quick look to the left and there she was: the Eiffel Tower. With no idea what area we were in, we confidently walked towards the landmark knowing we’d soon gather our bearings. Beautiful sights on either side, and an increasing number of people as we got closer, but soon, we found ourselves standing right in front of her.  People, and people everywhere. We could barely find a space to breathe. We navigated our way to the hop on, hop off bus tour we booked. On the tour, we stopped off at a little cafe just outside Notre Dame for breakfast. We missed the breakfast time slot by an hour or so, so we just ordered coffee and watched life move all around us on the streets outside. Packs of cops, who travel in fours, roamed the streets, motorcycles zooming left and right, meter maids citing cars, tourists, locals…it was so refreshing to just pause a moment and have life circle around us. We were in Paris!!!

We strolled along a street that hugged the river, indulging on pain au chocolat (chocolate croissants) and admiring the street artists and vendors. We closed our tour of the city by boat, sailing along the River Siene and soaking in “life” in Paris.

Put your phone down. Just be present. 

This was one of my most treasured memories of our time here – sitting on the boat watching everyday life happen.  Below street level, there’s this sub-level of pavement where people can go to escape the crowds. It might be somewhere they go to walk silently away from the hustle and bustle or somewhere they go to sit and talk. But the people on that level were present. And living. Not one was on their phone. Not one was sleeping or wasting a moment. There were even teens – TEENAGERS!!! – sitting and chatting with one another, waving at the boats filled with tourists as they passed. There were couples sitting and talking, people reading books, people ballroom dancing, kids riding bikes…it was unreal. I was so engrossed in the display of people enjoying the company of others, thinking, journaling, learning, connecting, again NOT ONE on their cell phones. The sight was more beautiful than any building, any river and any landmark attraction. It was a boat ride I will long remember. A beautiful reminder to put the phone down and just be present sometimes.

Our evening ended with dinner and a fireworks expo (seriously, a fireworks convention) just outside of our hotel room. It was a beautiful close to a whirlwind trip to Paris. The next morning, our cab driver sped (GTA style) up and down the back roads of Paris, navigating multiple detours due to a bike race, to get us to Gare du Nord to hop our train! Off to Amsterdam we went!

LEG TWO: Paris – Amsterdam

It will take something quite spectacular to bump Amsterdam from the top of my “most beautiful cities” list. Even now, as I sit and scroll through photos, it never gets old. The beauty my eyes witnessed immediately upon emerging from the Centraal train station is something I’ll never fully grasp. The sound of languages conversing, bike bells, church bells, music…the boats, canals, bikes, shops, homes (!!!). I will forever envision those first few moments I spent turning in complete 360 motion, simply in awe of this city.  As we sat soaking in life in the Netherlands, I couldn’t help but notice we still had backpacks and luggage in hand. I couldn’t wait to offload and fully explore, so we made our way to the hotel. We didn’t have to look very far. While I knew the Doubletree I booked was relatively close to the train station, I could’ve never predicted how close. As we spun around one final time soaking in the sights and sounds, we caught a glimpse of the Doubletree logo on a silver building DIRECTLY NEXT DOOR to the train station. One small road separating the two. Maybe 300 feet away. Maybe.

There was something so calming about walking into the lobby of the Doubletree Centraal Station. We were in a country that was more English-speaking than the last, and this was a hotel brand I was all too familiar with, but maybe because we’d survived two days in Paris, I just felt like I could conquer any city that came next. We were three days into our trip and I felt well-traveled, seasoned in navigating my way around a new place.  The hotel was gorgeous. The staff was SO freakin’ friendly. Doubletree cookies (YAY!) and because I was Doubletree staff, our guest service associate upgraded both of our rooms annnd upgraded us to the Executive Lounge Level. This meant access to the lobby level lounge for breakfast, happy hour, and unlimited beverages throughout our stay. The rooms were stunning! Full views of the canal and the city. And even though they were lovely, we couldn’t wait to change our clothes and go explore. We spent much of the afternoon poking around the main drag of shops – little souvenir shops, grocery stores, restaurants, etc. We closed the day at the hotel’s premier steakhouse, Eastwood Grill, and quickly settled into our rooms, putting a gameplan in place for our one and only day in Amsterdam.

Day 2, much like in Paris, was our first and only full day to explore Amsterdam. Because we were cramming in as much family time as possible in the UK, we had very few days to spend popping over to other countries. But I was just so grateful for any moments.

Slow down and soak in the beauty around you. 

We took a beautiful morning stroll to the Anne Frank Huis (House) and then jetted over to the Heineken Experience brewery tour, hopped on a canal boat for a tour of the city from the water, walked through the streets and the infamous Red Light District (it was daylight so the girls weren’t home), dined at Loetje per the recommendation of my brother’s friend, and capped a full day with complimentary drinks in the hotel’s Skylounge (yet another perk bestowed upon us by our wonderful guest service associate). We clocked thousands of steps that day. Tens of thousands over the course of our entire trip, but I’d do it all over again tomorrow. Because what was seen with each of those steps was a beauty unknown. Culture felt. Language heard. Mental image clocked. Looking at some of these photos instantly transports me back to the smells and feels of the moment…and I’m so grateful for how many of those walks shaped this trip.

The next morning, we headed for Schipol Airport, eager to fly over to the UK and connect with some very familiar faces. But our flight was delayed for hours and just when we couldn’t bare another minute, we found ourselves boarding the 45 minute flight to Manchester. Family, here we come!

LEG THREE: Amsterdam – Manchester

Ahh, the UK. Not just the place I was super excited to explore as an adult, but one that just feels like “home” as equally as San Diego.  We visited 16 cities in the UK – SIXTEEN! Some briefly – but all worthy of mention: Manchester, Cheshire, Liverpool, Chester, London (brief), Bracknell, Windsor, Corsham, Castle Combe, Chippenham, Stevenage, Hitchen, Cambridge, London (much longer), Grateley, Tottenham, Hampshire  Our journey started in the north with my mom’s cousin, his wife, their two boys and their sweet puppies, Bruce and Teddy. And we had THE BEST time with them, which beautifully kicks off my next souvenir.

Let loose, have a little more fun!

We spent only a few days here, the first of which was quite memorable and one whose details will remain confidential 🙂 The PERFECT kick-off to a needed celebration of family and reunion, this home reminded me of the importance of laughter and fun in life. That we should live life, and life to the full (John 10:10). It sounds so cliche, but I realized the need to just smile more, to not take life too seriously, to dance, to sing…LOUDLY!, to run to an empty piano – no matter where its located – and just play a quick tune, to engage with people and make them smile, to really create memories with loved ones and not care too much about the rules. My mom’s cousin carries so much of my grandma’s spirit (his aunt) – playful and full of joy and has a sort of fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants style of hosting which was just a really warm and familiar feeling. Again, truly felt like a home (far) away from home.

LEG FOUR: Manchester – London

We arrived in Manchester on a Tuesday and by Thursday, we were headed South en route to our family reunion weekend. We made a quick pitstop in London for the night and discovered Primark. More to come on that find. We dined at the famous Hard Rock Cafe, shopped at Marks & Spencer, rode in a proper London cab, and eventually hopped a train to Bracknell on Friday afternoon.

LEG FIVE: Bracknell (Family Reunion)

Family reunions are special. Even moreso when the last was almost two decades ago. Thank goodness for social media. Walking into the hotel and instantly spotting “your people” is a very comforting feeling. After traveling to countries where we knew absolutely no one, spotting a familiar face in the crowd in an unknown city just warms your heart. Bracknell was a city central to everyone attending and I was grateful to partner with the UK planning team to coordinate our Hilton hotel venue for the weekend. About half of those attending arrived Friday night and gathered for dinner and drinks, the remaining group would pop in Saturday morning for the evening agenda.  The next morning, while a small “event team” stayed behind to set up for the evening’s festivities, a large group of us ventured off to Windsor Castle for the day.

Oh what it would be like to live in a castle…that’s all I kept thinking as I toured the massive grounds. The site of Harry & Meghan’s May 2019 wedding, I couldn’t wait to see it all with my own eyes. And it did not disappoint. The town of Windsor was small and gorgeous. Little shops and restaurants all around the castle and even a river full of swans! *heart eyes* Upon our return to the hotel, more family had arrived and we had about 90 minutes to spare before our family reunion commenced. As we made our way downstairs, into the banquet space and into the arms of all the family that had arrived during our time at Windsor, it became very apparent that the lapse in time between reunions would guarantee this one to be both incredibly memorable but also incredibly emotional. A slideshow with images from the last two reunions displayed videos of my grandparents’ generation – my grandma, her 3 siblings, and their spouses. All eight have passed, seven since the last time the family reunited. Each table a tribute, scrapbooks and photos lined the back wall, and children and grandchildren mixed and mingled figuring out how their branches connected to the same tree. The night went into the early hours of the morning. The bar extended their hours – twice – to accommodate our extended event hours. Successful on many levels, though too short a time for our liking. As such, we’ve vowed to reunite every five years moving forward. The younger generations vowed never to let too much time pass in between visits again.

LEG SIX: Bracknell – Corsham

From Bracknell, we headed west to the little town of Corsham to stay with another cousin of my mom’s. The quiet town was a retreat after quite a hectic schedule leading up to that point. It was nice to just pause and unwind a bit. One thing I love about this cousin of my mom’s is her conversation. The interest in wanting to connect more. It must run in the family. There was an intentionality about her inquiries, a home-like comfort that reminded me of my grandparent’s home. It was a perfect escape. And the Cotswolds were totally on my must-see list 🙂

LEG SEVEN: Corsham – Stevenage – London

My brother and I departed two days earlier than my mom and traveled from the west to London, connecting with my cousins and traveling altogether to Stevenage. Stevenage is my mom’s hometown and she – along with a few others cousins – planned to meet us later in the week to tour their old neighborhoods and dine together. While in Stevenage, we attended a football (soccer) match, popped over to Hitchin, hopped a train to Cambridge, checked out the university, and relaxed until the remaining family arrived to walk my mom’s old neighborhood. I remember this walk from my visit in 2000. But of course, some things have changed in 20 years. Her home; however, was still on the corner. Still very similar to the way it looked when she lived there as a child. The same foresty-looking “lane” that lead there, and to the school she attended. The same fish and chip shop that had been there for decades remained. It was almost a “welcome home” for my mom and her sister. And something quite special to share that with their children. The group gathered for dinner at the Whitehorse Inn, and at the close of the evening, we packed up a mini and a mini cooper with 6 people, 6 pieces of luggage – and eventually 3 dogs – and made our way to central London, where we’d spend the remainder of our days at my mom’s cousin’s place.

Yes, another cousin, and this one is the baby of the bunch so she’s quite entertaining. If I have any memory from my first trip to England at age 4, it was spending time at her home, which boasts a spiral staircase in the middle of the 3-story building. I fondly remember her whipping and illegally-u-turning in the road leading up to Buckingham Palace during my 14-year old visit…so needless to say, I couldn’t wait to kick off the final leg of our trip with her.

We had quite a full agenda for our remaining days in London. We toured the inside of Buckingham Palace, had proper Fish & Chips for the first time all trip, rode the London Eye, went to Camden Market, spent some time in the country side at their Grateley home, saw the Churchill War Rooms, toured the Tottenham stadium…our final days flew by and soon the morning of the 25th greeted us. It was then, and only then, that my body finally felt the entirety of the trip. Only then did my feet ache and my body scream for my own bed. Only then was I truly thankful to have only packed a small carryon. I didn’t want to leave, but a small part of me felt like I just needed to go home really quick and get a new suitcase with fresh clothes. I wanted to go right back!

Live simply. Seek the small joys.

It was quite fitting that on our flight home I decided to watch Eat, Pray, Love again. I’d been in flight a number of hours and I wanted a movie that had a message, but wasn’t too heavy, not too gorey, no sexual scenes, just easy. I selected the Julia Roberts flick because, hey I just traveled…let’s see how it speaks to me. While she was in Italy, her friend in the barber shop says:

“You feel guilty because you are American. You don’t know how to enjoy yourself. Americans. You work too hard. You get burnt out. Then you come home and spend the whole weekend in your pajamas in front of the TV. But you don’t know pleasure. You have to be told you’ve earned it. But an Italian doesn’t need to be told. He walks by a sign that says ‘you deserve a break today,’ and he says ‘yeah, I know.’ We call it ‘Dolce Far Niente. It means “the sweetness of doing nothing. we are masters of it.”

Elizabeth Gilbert says “Americans have an inability to relax into sheer pleasure. Ours is an entertainment seeking nation, but not necessarily a pleasure seeking one.”

How accurate.

And oh, how timely.

We’re living through a moment – right now – that is really testing us in so many ways. But it’s also enlightening us on our value. Where we place value. How we prioritize it. It’s giving us an opportunity to slow down and live more simple lives. To kick the schedules to the curb, abandon the planners and feel a little more comfortable if the checklists aren’t completed each day. To find pleasure in the comforts of home and in the people around us, more than we ever have.

When you go on a vacation – wait, let me rephrase – when you go on a vacation like this, it seems, to many, that you are “living your best life.” And let’s be real – you are. You are carefree, refreshed, positively overwhelmed by the beauty in the world. You have all of the Instagram worthy photos and people probably think your pockets are deep and never ending. But what if you sought the simplicity of the small pleasures? Pleasures like burgers and fries on your first night in Paris (how American is that!?), an outdoor BBQ in the English countryside, a story all about limes, belting out a Beatles song at the top of your lungs – after midnight!, having three beds in one hotel room, discovering the reason that the light switches in Paris and Amsterdam are outside of the actual bathroom, random firework shows outside of your bedroom, seeing La vache qui rit (Laughing Cow) cheese in French markets, listening to audio tours in another language, eating mayo with French fries, sneaking into a hotel bar 30 minutes before your train leaves for a celebratory farewell cocktail and freaking out the whole time wondering if you’ll make it, asking a stranger on the train for one of her chicken nuggets, waking up to the sound of the piano in the morning, curling up with a puppy, watching your mom conquer her fear of heights, competitive games of Bananagram, and teaching the Electric Slide to your entire UK family who doesn’t know it.

The simplicity of small pleasures.

What if you held on to those? THOSE are what stick with you. Those are what you carry. Those are the souvenirs you bring back with you that last forever.