Postcards from a McTraveler: 20. Blenheim Palace

Where: Woodstock, England
When: July 6, 2013
With: Dave, Jad, Patricia, and Lazar

On a sunny day in July, three Americans, one Serbian and one Lebanese embarked on journey for a quintessential English summer day. We would visit a country estate that belonged to one of the most historically prestigious members of English society: Winston Churchill. The location was Blenheim Palace, the only non-royal palace in all of England.

After taking the train to Oxford, it's a short bus ride to the entrance of the palace. After passing through the entrance, an extremely long road leads the way up to the elaborate front gate. The walk to the front allows time for you to take in the expansive grounds that make up this residence and appreciate just how much land the family used to have in their care.

Once inside the central courtyard, the palace encircles you in all its elaborate glory. Apparently, the unconventional choice of architectural style on this building is as hotly contested now as it was back in the 1700s when it was built because as we know, the British like their tradition.

While at first I couldn't really tell what would be considered "unconventional", at the front doors, I finally saw the first signs...the ever watching eyes that were oddly painted into the ceiling.

The entrance hall was massive, tall but narrow, with a large fresco painted on the ceiling. The decor had a strange melee of design that ranged from Greek to medieval all mushed together. It was beautiful, but also a bit confusing.

The majority of the house was like a museum dedicated to its most famous resident, Winston Churchill. Many of the rooms are filled with letters and photos of him in his childhood and a history of his life at Blenheim. The letters in particular gave an interesting insight into what it was like growing up in English society at the turn of the century. One letter started with "Dear Father, I read in the newspaper that you have recovered from your cold and were feeling well enough to give a speech in [insert name of English town]. I am so glad of this." Talk about lack of family communication.

You also have the opportunity to view the room in which he was born (complete with a lock of his hair from childhood) and a showcase of his comfy clothes (his dressing gown and slippers).

There is also a large display of his toy soldier collection, accumulated as a child. If he practiced with all of these pieces as a kid, its no wonder he kept a level head through World War II.

The rest of the rooms of the house were set up in similar fashion to other big houses we'd seen in England. Lots of primary colors, portraits of family members, and antique furniture.

The dining room was really unique though. 3D painting tricks, popular at the time, were used to make the room feel like a Greek Temple rather than an old English country home.

The final room was remarkable. It was a long library/ballroom that just seems so inefficient nowadays but would have been so essential back in the day. During World War I, this room was used as a hospital for the troops.

At the far end of this room was a large organ that you'd normally expect to see in a church. In order to help maintain it, you can "sponsor a pipe". That was a new plight I'd never quite heard of.

The final appendage to the home was the family's incredibly ornate personal chapel.

After the interior of the house, it was time to explore the gardens, which are equally renowned as the palace is. The guy who did these grounds is the same guy who did the grounds at the Chatsworth House.

The problem was it was hot. And we were thirsty...though not for water. The elaborate palace and grounds made it feel like champagne and cocktails were more appropriate. And what better atmosphere than these gorgeous grounds than to enjoy a drink or two?

They had a lovely array of cocktails to order at the bar in the courtyard. Dave was mildly surprised when we (and by we, I mean Lazar) thought he deserved a cosmo. He drank it like a champ, but hated every second.

A little further into the grounds, some gentlemen in white were playing in a very civilised game of cricket. It felt like an episode of Downton Abbey. We curled up under a shady tree to drink our champagne and watch the ol' chaps.

This was Jad and Patricia doing their very best posh impersonation.

I will admit, the palace looks pretty nice from here.

Sitting, smily, sleepy. The life of a Serb.

Eventually, the cricket match ended (how and when, I have no idea) so we busted out the frisbee. It felt like the perfect way to take advantage of all the space around us.

Jad was great to watch. He'd never really played frisbee before, and his technique...left something to be desired.

At least he looked fabulous while he tried.

Eventually, he just assumed that if he flexed his muscles enough, he'd be fine. Dave eventually took him under his wing, though didn't do a great job of improving Jad's technique.

A rare and elusive shot of the photographer, playing frisbee as well.

After a long game of frisbee and many glasses of champagne, the only classy thing to do was walk with a plate balanced on the head.

At that point in the evening, the grounds had cleared out and it was time to call it a day. But not before one last photo shoot in Churchill's front yard.