I first visited Stonehenge during my summer studying in England. Admittedly, those couple months flew by with such pace that I hardly remember the experience. The memory of this day, however, is well-stitched into my mind as a beloved memory with my dearest friend, Bethany.

We all set off in auto around 10AM, leaving a sunny morning in London with bag full pastries from Paul in tow (can’t quite shake this French chain from my routine). We reached Stonehenge in two short hours later. It was a notoriously English morning, the winds making the winter temperatures feel far nippier than reality. The rolling hills went beyond the horizon in every direction. Sheep speckled the grasslands. One of Bethany’s one wishes in visiting England was to see sheep; she manifested that effortlessly.

There are a number of wild theories circulating around the origin and purpose of the Stonehenge. The most accepted and taught is that it was built around 3000 BC with Antler tools and other means in the Mesolithic period. Another is, of course, aliens. And my favourite is that is was actually giants who built the Stonehenge atop a mountain in Ireland, which was magically transported by Merlin to England many years later. I truly don’t know how it came to be, or how such absolutely gargantuan stones (each weighing roughly 25 tons) were stacked upon each other. The mystery hits one when taking a look at the vast the landscape surrounding Stonehenge. Rolling hills beyond the horizon in all directions, with no conceivable way to transport the stones from their origin in South Wales 240km to their current location, let alone manipulate them into the astounding structure which still stands today.

So, it remains a tease for the imagination. Though Stonehenge is a part of English Heritage, National Trust members do have access free of charge (so I suggest NT members go for imagination teasing). Bethany and I enjoyed marveling at it together, my patient Daniel taking photos of us in our silliest states (our inner children are running free for 10 more days). As I approach my 29th birthday this weekend, I’m more grateful than ever for the diverse, deepening friendships in my life, both new and old. There is also beauty in knowing with full certainty I’ll have this one forever, until we’re elderly and our love for floral tea pots is more age-appropriate.

As for style, I opted for my trusty Barbour and Burberry scarf once more. It’s quickly becoming my weekend uniform. We’ll be going to the Lake District for my official birthday celebrations where denser outerwear will be necessary. Later this week, I’ll be sharing a post on my birthday, one written from the very nectar of my heart, one I’ve been jotting notes for over a year, one so comprehensively true to the nearly 29-year-old woman I am on Saturday: 30 Lessons I’ve Learned Before 30. I’ll be spilling all the wisdom and greatest lessons on life, love and career I’ve learned through all the life lived and traveled. I hope it inspires you, my dearest readers, to cultivate your own soft power in your life.

Do you have cherished travel memories with your friends? Share them in the comment section below xx