Last of London -- London, England

A man ceases to be a beginner in any given science and becomes a master in that science when he has learned that he is going to be a beginner all his life. 

~Robin G. Collingwood 

I'm starting this post from Charlotte's living room in Buckinghamshire.  It's been dramatically rearranged since I was here last August, but the cozy atmosphere has stayed the same. Black, grey couches, various shades of purple walls, floral drapes, giant succulent plant in window. 

Children's toys. 

Dog toys. 

Children's hair. 

Dog hair. 

I love living with people who don't mind a bit of hair on the sofa. I just feel so much more relaxed. 

It was difficult to say goodbye to the nurturing community of acro yogis in Westminster. Touch is such a beautiful sensation to the traveler, and it was with regret and sadness that I stepped out of this benevolent bubble and back into plain air. 

As a person who spends her days meeting strangers, I never know how/whom/when/where I'm allowed to touch. I've robbed myself of the basic, reassuring human need of putting my hands/arms/head on someone else's hands/waist/shoulders. Feeling the warmth, breath, connection and energy of another being keeps me sensitive, empathetic and grounded in the present moment. 

When I go too long without touch, part of me begins to float away.

Love flows through my fingers, I mused as I pressed Dirk's calves into the floor. I've always been the person to give head massages and back rubs when I want to show affection and make connection. This course is opening the door for me to touch whilst traveling in a socially acceptable manner. 

Here are a few pictures from the afternoon of the last day. When I finally put down my "MUST ABSORB EVERYTHING" mindset and picked up my camera. 

Sarah has been traveling for two years. She supports herself through selling knitted yoga mats, wrist warmers, moon cups and bindis. I want to learn to move like Sarah.

Sarah and Libby are beautiful nomadic ladies who occasionally meet up and travel the world together. Then they make their lunch money by performing acro yoga routines in the street.

Getting "civilians" involved.

 I took the long way back to Francesco's that night, snapping a few final pictures of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens.

I feel like I should have explored London more. Taken pictures of important buildings and significant monuments and all that jazz. But... but this was my experience. Ducks and yoga. I don't want to shape my life around what I should see and contort myself every which way to take the proper picture of Big Ben (when I have very little interest in clock towers). 

Ducks and yoga. This is my simple, sweet experience of London.

Bumper ducks.

I think this guy has got perpetually itchy face syndrome.

There were two Argentinean couchsurfers at Francesco's that night. I immediately put both little people up on my feet and gave them back massages. They laughed and moaned and took pictures. Francesco laughed and took pictures.

"A normal day in my house," he said to a future couchsurfer he had on Skype.

Our gregarious host treated us to a mouthwatering Thai dinner in a restaurant that was decorated to look like a jungle.

What an apropos end to my week of Thai massage. 

I packed my bag the next morning, left the keys on Francesco's table and set off to Marylebone train station. Inhaling the smog of London, I felt immensely proud of myself. During my eight days in the massive capital of England, I had not once tuned out to a podcast or used public transportation. My feet took me everywhere I went and my mind hung around as I moved -- instead of being off in "Radiolab" land.

Charlotte picked me up at the Great Missenden train station at 12:54.

"When can I give you a massage?" I asked at 12:55.