Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Leaving England-- A Final Blog Post
Today is my last day in England-- not a "real day" in the sense that I'm spending it in a hotel and then in an airport, but these are my final moments here. And, I have a few hours to kill in said hotel room before I head to Heathrow to kill a few hours there, so it seemed like a good time to wrap up this blog.
This is a relatively inauspicious exit, actually-- I think I was hoping for more fanfare or something that would mark the end of this adventure more definitively. Instead, I've spend a weekend cleaning my flat (though, I didn't go as crazy as I did when I left the States-- no getting on my hands and knees to scrub the baseboards) and packing up (I suspect that once again I'm going to get stopped when I try to check in because my bag is too heavy, though for the life of me, I have no idea what is weighing it down so much. I've gotten rid of what was making it so heavy on the way over-- the toiletries, the voltage converters [which turned out to be relatively unnecessary]-- and the souvenirs I still have to take back [since my dad took a lot of them back with him when he visited] aren't heavy at all. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised-- though I guess it would bookend my trip nicely to have to shuffle luggage contents while fellow passengers step over me on their way to the ticket counter on both ends of my journey.), and traveling to a Comfort Hotel near the airport because the Airline coach doesn't run on Christmas day. I'm currently writing from a place with no charm-- it looks like the site of any large group of hotels off a major roadway and could be anywhere in the world. It serves its purpose though-- I can get to the airport from here.
It's not that there hasn't been fanfare in the last week-- in fact, there's been a very flattering bustle of activity around people wanting to say goodbye to me (or, saying goodbye despite protestations that they don't want to, which is even nicer). I've had lunches and dinners and drinks with friends and with a few of the students that filled the time until this past weekend. Peter took me to a lovely farm/restaurant outside of Oxford called Fallow Fields for what was an amazing farewell lunch. (There are no pictures of the outside because, in traditional English fashion, it was raining quite hard, but you can get a sense of the beauty of the place here http://www.fallowfields.com/restaurant/.) The inside of the restaurant gives a hint to how gorgeous a place it is.
The food was amazing there-- and it's the kind of place I wouldn't have made it to otherwise since it's not accessible by bus (there is a part of me that wonders how much of the local area I did miss because I didn't have a car. I was limited by bus routes-- which never felt particularly limiting, but then, there are places like this I know I missed.).
I had drinks at Malmaison (in an upstairs lounge I didn't know about until a week ago) and various pubs around Oxford, both familiar and not (there's really no end to pubs in Oxford-- actually, I'm sure that's not true, but it feels like there's always another one to try out), and a couple last dinners at my favorite places in Headington, like Bar Mezze and Yummy. (I had take-away from Posh Fish one last time too-- and again, a small was more chips than one person can possibly eat, even a person making a valiant effort. In fact, I had planned to have one final meal in a local Headington place, but my kebab and chips from Posh Fish lasted me for three meals-- there was no need to get more food.) And, I walked around the City Centre one last time-- on an unexpectedly warm and totally rain-free day, which was wonderful and not at all like what I've come to expect of winter in England. So, I said a sort of goodbye to the fabulous city of Oxford and all the people there I've grown to love and appreciate-- and then sat around for a couple more days actually waiting to go home. Which provides a lot of time to think.
And, that's both good and bad-- bad because it's provided me with a lot of time to form a mental list of all the things I'm going to miss about being here, not least of which is just being here. Oxford is the kind of place I could imagine myself actually living-- it's an adorable smaller city with easy access to larger cities like London; it has small town charm since it's easily walkable and compact but with all the culture that a city centered around university life can possess; and it's stunning. I have this fear that the scenery back in the US is going to feel really drab and boring-- I've spent four months wandering places with buildings that are hundreds of years old, touching stones that were laid thousands of years ago, and immersed in an architectural and cultural history that I find confusing because it spans so many centuries and I can't quite keep it all straight in my head (I still can't tell you the order of the monarchs or how they are all related-- or not-- to one another.). It'll make me rethink telling people I live in an old house-- suddenly something built 70 years ago doesn't seem that old. In fact, it's practically brand new! And, I'll miss the adventure of it all-- having a constrained time period in which to live here has pushed me to explore and go out and do things no matter what. I feel like I've seen something new and unfamiliar practically every day I've been here. I've been almost completely undeterred by conditions that I think I would have let stop me before-- pouring rain, cold, travel time, even money... there was no time to let any of that stop me with only four months to fit everything in (though, I've hardly done everything. I haven't even scratched the surface.) My "real life" isn't nearly as exciting-- and those trappings of real life (like, having to teach a full load of classes instead of the one I've taught here, maintaining my house, and even the fun parts like playing tennis and seeing my friends) sort of get in the way of being adventurous, at least on a regular basis. So, there's a kind of sadness to thinking about going back to normal.
Time to think has been good too-- I've spent a lot of it focusing on what I've missed (mostly friends and family, really-- though, I also have to admit that as much as I've liked the freedom of public transportation, I'm quite looking forward to having a car again. The grocery store is a lot easier to manage when you can buy more than you can walk home with, especially in the rain.) that I can now have back in my life, kind of giving myself things to look forward to once I'm back on American soil. And, I had time to look back over my blogs from the past several months and appreciate just what an amazing time this has been and how much this opportunity has afforded me (which sounds really cliche as I'm writing it... yet I don't quite know how else to put it). And, I'm not leaving empty-handed as it were-- I've made friends (and, since I'm pretty good at keeping up with people, friends that I can honestly have hope I'll have forever) and learned a lot, both about myself (because I don't think I would have guessed I would be the kind of person who would be so undeterred by weather, money, confusion, travel complications, etc.-- especially when they all collude at the same moment. I've been a lot more laissez-faire and outgoing here that I think I am in my "normal life"-- something I hope to hold onto when I get back.) and about places and people and culture, and I finally got to have the study-abroad experience I didn't have when I was in school (not to mention, I have a lot of souvenirs-- I've collected water-color paintings from just about everywhere I've been. The experience of this trip could continue for months in framing and hanging alone.).
I feel like there should be some final, all-encompassing statement that sums up this time (and this blog)-- and yet I think it's a mark of how grand it's been (and, maybe a little of the fact that I'm not completely ready for it to end even though I'm heading to the airport in two hours) that I can't think of just one thing to say that wraps it all up. I've thought about it for several minutes now-- and, I've just decided there is no perfect ending to what was an almost perfect experience. How could there be?
This is a relatively inauspicious exit, actually-- I think I was hoping for more fanfare or something that would mark the end of this adventure more definitively. Instead, I've spend a weekend cleaning my flat (though, I didn't go as crazy as I did when I left the States-- no getting on my hands and knees to scrub the baseboards) and packing up (I suspect that once again I'm going to get stopped when I try to check in because my bag is too heavy, though for the life of me, I have no idea what is weighing it down so much. I've gotten rid of what was making it so heavy on the way over-- the toiletries, the voltage converters [which turned out to be relatively unnecessary]-- and the souvenirs I still have to take back [since my dad took a lot of them back with him when he visited] aren't heavy at all. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised-- though I guess it would bookend my trip nicely to have to shuffle luggage contents while fellow passengers step over me on their way to the ticket counter on both ends of my journey.), and traveling to a Comfort Hotel near the airport because the Airline coach doesn't run on Christmas day. I'm currently writing from a place with no charm-- it looks like the site of any large group of hotels off a major roadway and could be anywhere in the world. It serves its purpose though-- I can get to the airport from here.
It's not that there hasn't been fanfare in the last week-- in fact, there's been a very flattering bustle of activity around people wanting to say goodbye to me (or, saying goodbye despite protestations that they don't want to, which is even nicer). I've had lunches and dinners and drinks with friends and with a few of the students that filled the time until this past weekend. Peter took me to a lovely farm/restaurant outside of Oxford called Fallow Fields for what was an amazing farewell lunch. (There are no pictures of the outside because, in traditional English fashion, it was raining quite hard, but you can get a sense of the beauty of the place here http://www.fallowfields.com/restaurant/.) The inside of the restaurant gives a hint to how gorgeous a place it is.
The food was amazing there-- and it's the kind of place I wouldn't have made it to otherwise since it's not accessible by bus (there is a part of me that wonders how much of the local area I did miss because I didn't have a car. I was limited by bus routes-- which never felt particularly limiting, but then, there are places like this I know I missed.).
And, that's both good and bad-- bad because it's provided me with a lot of time to form a mental list of all the things I'm going to miss about being here, not least of which is just being here. Oxford is the kind of place I could imagine myself actually living-- it's an adorable smaller city with easy access to larger cities like London; it has small town charm since it's easily walkable and compact but with all the culture that a city centered around university life can possess; and it's stunning. I have this fear that the scenery back in the US is going to feel really drab and boring-- I've spent four months wandering places with buildings that are hundreds of years old, touching stones that were laid thousands of years ago, and immersed in an architectural and cultural history that I find confusing because it spans so many centuries and I can't quite keep it all straight in my head (I still can't tell you the order of the monarchs or how they are all related-- or not-- to one another.). It'll make me rethink telling people I live in an old house-- suddenly something built 70 years ago doesn't seem that old. In fact, it's practically brand new! And, I'll miss the adventure of it all-- having a constrained time period in which to live here has pushed me to explore and go out and do things no matter what. I feel like I've seen something new and unfamiliar practically every day I've been here. I've been almost completely undeterred by conditions that I think I would have let stop me before-- pouring rain, cold, travel time, even money... there was no time to let any of that stop me with only four months to fit everything in (though, I've hardly done everything. I haven't even scratched the surface.) My "real life" isn't nearly as exciting-- and those trappings of real life (like, having to teach a full load of classes instead of the one I've taught here, maintaining my house, and even the fun parts like playing tennis and seeing my friends) sort of get in the way of being adventurous, at least on a regular basis. So, there's a kind of sadness to thinking about going back to normal.
Time to think has been good too-- I've spent a lot of it focusing on what I've missed (mostly friends and family, really-- though, I also have to admit that as much as I've liked the freedom of public transportation, I'm quite looking forward to having a car again. The grocery store is a lot easier to manage when you can buy more than you can walk home with, especially in the rain.) that I can now have back in my life, kind of giving myself things to look forward to once I'm back on American soil. And, I had time to look back over my blogs from the past several months and appreciate just what an amazing time this has been and how much this opportunity has afforded me (which sounds really cliche as I'm writing it... yet I don't quite know how else to put it). And, I'm not leaving empty-handed as it were-- I've made friends (and, since I'm pretty good at keeping up with people, friends that I can honestly have hope I'll have forever) and learned a lot, both about myself (because I don't think I would have guessed I would be the kind of person who would be so undeterred by weather, money, confusion, travel complications, etc.-- especially when they all collude at the same moment. I've been a lot more laissez-faire and outgoing here that I think I am in my "normal life"-- something I hope to hold onto when I get back.) and about places and people and culture, and I finally got to have the study-abroad experience I didn't have when I was in school (not to mention, I have a lot of souvenirs-- I've collected water-color paintings from just about everywhere I've been. The experience of this trip could continue for months in framing and hanging alone.).
I feel like there should be some final, all-encompassing statement that sums up this time (and this blog)-- and yet I think it's a mark of how grand it's been (and, maybe a little of the fact that I'm not completely ready for it to end even though I'm heading to the airport in two hours) that I can't think of just one thing to say that wraps it all up. I've thought about it for several minutes now-- and, I've just decided there is no perfect ending to what was an almost perfect experience. How could there be?
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Germany: The Final Frontier
or, at least the last big trip during my time here.
A couple weeks ago, I was sitting in a cafe having a glass of wine with my friend Laura, talking about how I was thinking of going to Geneva for a weekend (I wanted to go to Escalade-- a festival sort of like Carnival, except that it celebrates the defense of the town in 1602) and she said that instead of going to Geneva by myself, I should go to Germany with her, her husband, Mikko, and a friend of theirs from Finland. A couple hours-- and a couple more glasses of wine-- later, I had booked a flight to Stuttgart.
We met up with Kristina, Laura and Nikko's friend, in Stuttgart and headed immediately to get lunch. I decided to start off with as traditional a meal as I could find (or, have interpreted for me-- I speak absolutely no German. I generally wouldn't go to a foreign country so absolutely unprepared to communicate, but this was short notice. I didn't have time to learn any of the language. And, really, I mean any-- I can basically say no and thank you in German.). We went to Brahaus, a cute eatery
where I ordered a dish of lentils, sausage and spatzle.
It was really quite good, though I'm not sure that the picture does it justice (German food doesn't photograph well-- I discovered this more and more as the weekend went on). From lunch, we headed to the Christmas Market. German Christmas markets are imitated everywhere in Europe (see my post on the Christmas market in Birmingham, England)-- I'm not sure why the Christmas markets are considered a German thing (I'm sure there's a history on this I could look up), but if in Germany around the holiday season, it seems the thing to do to go to a Christmas Market. (Or, if somewhere else in Europe or the UK, to go to a German-style Christmas market.)
It actually looked quite a lot like the Christmas market in Birmingham-- but didn't feel quite as big. I think that's because it was more compacted with the loads of stalls put into a smaller space. It was festive, with Christmas scenes sitting atop almost every stall
and a large train set
which also included a larger train running around the perimeter that kids (and their parents) could ride on.
The thing to get at a German Christmas market is gluhwein (which literally means glow wine). It's mulled wine-- either red or white-- that can then be further spiked with other liqueurs. In Stuttgart, the options were amaretto or rum. (Later, in other cities, there were offerings of gluhwein with vodka and other alcohols-- it's basically alcohol with more alcohol, but hot so that it's comforting while walking around in the cold.) I had white wine with amaretto-- it was quite strong, especially at the bottom where it basically became all amaretto. But, it's the thing to do-- there were even nuns hanging out drinking gluhwein (though it's hard to tell from this picture that's what they're doing. I was trying to discreetly take the picture since I couldn't figure out a polite way to ask nuns if I could photograph them drinking-- especially not in German.).
From the Christmas market, we all got on a train and headed to Tubingen, where we were staying.
Tubingen is a little less than an hour away from Stuttgart. It's not where you go for a touristy visit to Germany, but it's a really cute town and does give a better sense of what "normal life" is like in Germany than a tourist city would. Since I was sort of a last minute addition to the trip, I was staying with a friend of Laura's in the old city center while the others were staying at another friend's house in the "suburbs." (I'm not sure that's really what you would call it in Germany, but that's basically what it amounted to.) The house in the suburbs that everyone else was staying at was really nice-- luxurious, really (it has a stunning gourmet kitchen, a bathroom with a sauna in it, and an absolutely huge wrap around deck-- though it was too cold to enjoy the deck). Where I was staying was not nearly as luxurious, but Norbert, the friend hosting me, acted like he was running a B&B. When I arrived, there was a bottle of mineral water, an apple, and chocolates awaiting me in my room. And, the next morning when I got up (every day, actually), breakfast-- with yogurt, cheese, meat, jams and jellies, and fresh bread from a local bakery-- was laid out on the table and coffee was ready to be percolated. It was really quite amazing-- and well beyond the free bed to sleep in that I was expecting (I really can't say enough about Norbert's generous hospitality-- it was way beyond what I would ever expect to be done for me, a total stranger crashing his home.).
Our first night in Tubingen, we went to a Greek restaurant where I got lamb fillets.
The food was pretty good, once mine got to the table. I felt oddly invisible all night-- everyone else got food and was nearly finished before mine finally arrived. And, after dinner, the waitress brought ouzo to the table-- and served it to everyone but me. I'm not sure if it was because I was the only one didn't speak German (and, so, was relying on others quite a bit to order for me), but after a while, it was kind of like I wasn't there. In the end, I got my small "revenge" though-- I accidentally wound up not tipping. While many credit card companies in the US have advertised that their credit cards will be accepted anywhere I want to be, it turns out that many places in Germany-- or, at least in Tubingen-- don't want to take a credit card (I used a credit card for my meal in Stuttgart... so perhaps it's only in smaller cities that credit cards aren't used). They want cash. (In fact, I don't think I used my credit card after that first afternoon in Stuttgart.) So, I paid for my meal at the Greek place in cash-- and took back my change when the waitress gave it to me, expecting to leave my tip on the table. However, when I went to leave a few euro, Laura leaned over and politely asked, "so, are you just going to leave money on the table?" in a way that suggested this wasn't the right thing to do. Apparently, you are supposed to ask the server for only the change you want back, and include the tip when you initially pay. It's rude to leave money on the table-- I'm not sure why, but you don't do it. So, apparently, it was less rude to leave no tip than to leave money sitting there which I don't quite get because it seems to me a tip on the table is better than no tip at all-- but, that didn't seem to be the case in Germany. (It's also apparently rude to tip in smaller change-- like you're throwing the change you can't use at someone.)
The next day, Laura had a photo shoot (she's in a band-- the photo shoot was a large part of the reason for the trip to Germany in the first place) in Reutlinger, a town about 25 minutes from Tubingen. While Laura and Mikko went to the photo shoot, Kristina and I went shopping (mostly for clothes for Kristina). Reutlinger is a fairly wealthy town-- I don't think we were where the truly rich live.
The city center, which is a fairly small square area surrounded by modern looking stores and conventional city buildings, did look quite traditionally German-- or at least like what I think Germany looks like when I picture it in my head.
Since I was told several times that this is where the wealthy people live, and I don't often think of the wealthy as tradespeople, it was surprising to find this really intricate monument to trade craft in the city center.
Every section depicts a scene of a different trade craft or profession (like shop keeper). The detail in each section was really quite amazing- like in this cobbler section.
After several hours in Reutlingen, we went back to Tubingen to get ready for a holiday dinner with a group (about 14 people) of Laura's friends (which included a white elephant gift exchange. It's a little daunting buying a present that will wind up in the hands of one of a group of strangers-- I went with buying chocolate from a fancy store in Oxford.). The dinner was at a pub in Tubingen, though it was a fancier meal than I would have expected from a pub. (I don't know that's what I would have called it-- I think I would have just referred to the place as a restaurant. But, pub seemed to have a more general meaning in Germany than it does in England, where it refers to a relatively specific kind of place.) Fortunately, everyone at dinner spoke English-- they didn't speak it to each other, but they were kind enough to include me in conversation and speak English for my benefit. (And, again, I'm amazed at how uneducated Americans, and I obviously include myself, are in this area-- everyone there spoke multiple languages because they are taught multiple languages from an early age in school. English is clearly dominant world-wide-- there haven't been many times when I have encountered moments when I couldn't get by with English [though the story of one such moment is coming up], but I still think we're quite foolish not to be encouraging kids to learn multiple languages in a world that is increasingly "shrinking.")
The next day was Sunday-- a day when just about everything is closed. So, we were planning to have brunch at Sebastian's house (the house where Laura, Mikko and Kristina were staying). I had met up with them there the day before when we were headed to Reutlingen, and so thought I had the bus route mastered. I was completely wrong. I headed to the bus stop and read the bus schedules to figure out which bus (there were two that would get me to where I was headed) I wanted to take. I was very proud of myself for figuring out that the first bus was only going to go as far as the central bus/rail station-- it's not that it's so hard to read a bus schedule in any language since they all basically work the same way, but that the German names of places look like gibberish to me (German, in general, is really confusing to me- nothing is spelled the way it sounds, though I did get better at reading names of places and food as the weekend went on-- hence how I was able to recognize the name of the bus/rail station stop.). I was feeling good about recognizing that I shouldn't get on the first bus that came, but the one that came right after it which was going to drive the entire route, until we went past the stop before the one I wanted and then continued to some stop I'd never heard of. It certainly wasn't the one I was expecting to come to next-- so I hit the stop button (or, halt button as it says on German buses) and then, when the bus stopped, tried to ask the bus driver why we hadn't stopped where I was expecting. This didn't go well-- I basically wound up pointing to a piece of paper with the name of the stop I wanted since the driver didn't seem to understand what I was asking and then he replied with something that may have been helpful, like directions for how to get where it was I wanted to go, or something quite rude, like calling me an American idiot who didn't know how to read a bus schedule (it turns out that the bus schedule did explain this different Sunday route-- but this explanation was in very tiny print at the bottom, which made it seem unimportant. And, it was in German-- so even if I had recognized that the tiny print was important, I wouldn't have understood what it was telling me.). Either response from the driver is entirely possible since I had no idea what he was saying; I was told many times that everyone in Germany speaks English, but really, it's everyone who is considered educated (and then, they do speak virtually flawless-- and virtually unaccented-- English) but not those who drive buses or taxis. I decided that no matter what the explanation was for why I was not at the stop I recognized was, it was better to get off the bus than continue going the wrong direction. I was hoping that if I crossed the street and stood at the bus stop going back in the direction I had come from, a bus would come along and take me to the stop I wanted-- or at least back to where I started. So, I stood there for a while, on a suburban street corner with no one around to ask whether or not my plan was a good one...
There had been a back-up plan for if I got lost-- I had Kristina's iPhone with me. Her phone will dial internationally. Mine won't. (When I first arrived in Oxford, I went to get cell phone plan and asked at the store if the plan I was getting would allow my phone to work outside the UK and was assured that it would. This has turned out to be partially true-- no matter where I am, I can receive calls and texts. But, outside the UK, I can't dial out or sent a text or access data-- I didn't discover this until I went to Brussels and tried to answer a text one of my students sent me. Outside the UK, this renders my phone relatively useless as anything other than a camera. Fortunately, this hasn't posed a problem-- until now.) But, the back-up plan failed. Kristina's phone battery had died-- this didn't intially appear to be a problem since I had my iPad charger with me and had charged her phone before I set out. What I didn't know is that the battery dying caused her SIM card to lock-- so, now, I was standing at a deserted bus stop (though, deserted in the sense that no one was out, not in an unsafe way) with two phones that wouldn't allow me to call anyone for help. And, it started to rain. (When I finally got to where I was going, my friends tried to look on the bright side, commenting that at least it hadn't been raining during this whole ordeal. Much like a tragic cartoon character, it seems I had my own personal rain cloud that was hovering only over me. It was really the only time it rained-- we got really lucky. The forecast for the whole weekend had said there was a 90% chance of rain at every hour, but while it was often overcast, it never really rained. Except at this moment-- but that does add a fortunate further dramatic element to the narrative.) I stood on the corner feeling quite bad for myself, picturing the rest of my life stuck at a bus stop (which I get was totally exaggerated-- but there was a chance I would be there for hours), wondering how long it would take for anyone to try to call my phone (after I didn't answer Kristina's-- a locked SIM meant I couldn't receive calls or texts either) to find out where I was. It was a low moment in traveling.
Eventually, a bus did come along (I probably stood there for about 40 minutes) and did take me to the stop I wanted (it was actually only one stop away-- it turns out I was pretty close to where I needed to be the whole time. But, I was standing on an unfamiliar street with names I didn't recognize and landmarks I had never seen before, so I didn't know. There was no way I could have navigated my way to where I wanted to be.) and I met up with my friends-- who had just finished brunch and were just starting to wonder where I was (they thought maybe I had slept in since we had been out late at the Christmas dinner the night before and had decided to have yet another lovely breakfast at Norbert's-- I had actually forgone the lovely breakfast which had once again been set out for me because I knew I was going to brunch, so by the time I arrived, I was quite hungry which was not helping my mood any.)
After I ate (and tried to reframe the whole ordeal in my head-- it worked out in the end and I wasn't hurt or dead-- so that I wasn't upset anymore) we all headed back to the city center of Tubingen to get a good look at the city in daylight and go to the castle.
The city itself is really lovely, especially along the Neckar River.
The actual city center is filled with gorgeous buildings, including this one, one of the oldest in Tubingen, built in 1584.
We walked back from the castle on a slightly different route, through streets that felt a little more residential, passing interesting-looking houses along the way-- mostly interesting for the way they were melding with nature or decorated on the outside.
From touring the city, we went to see a children's Christmas play. (I hadn't initially planned to go, but Norbert, my host, didn't make it back from his grandmother's birthday party in time to go since the play was at 4 pm, so I used his ticket rather than have it go to waste, though I don't think my taking his seat really stopped it from being "wasted.") I thought that maybe since this was a children's play and it was a musical, I would least be able to follow the action and understand what was going on. I was very wrong-- the play was absurd and surreal (and, I was told later, contained a lot of word play that probably would have been difficult for some of the German kids in the audience). It all basically took place in the head of the main character (I at least got that there was some kind of dream-like thing happening-- that's as far as I got, so I can't really tell you what the play was about, though I gathered from Laura, who explained a little of it to me afterwards, it had some kind of moral about accepting yourself for the talents you have) and there were very few actual musical numbers (there was a lot background music, but it wasn't a musical in the way I was thinking). I have to admit, I dozed off quite a bit-- the theater was warm, it was dark, between my bus ordeal and walking around, I was quite tired and eventually, the dialogue all sounded like white noise to me. That said-- the costumes were really good. So was what existed of a set (though, that was pretty minimalistic).
From the play, we went back to the city center (really, only a few blocks from the theater-- Tubingen proper isn't that big) to wander the Christmas market (which was open even though all the shops are closed on Sundays) for a couple hours. It looked a lot like the market in Stuttgart, though it was more spread out. And, since it was night, the fun Christmas lights were on display.
We had dinner in the pub at the bus/rail station (I was a little skeptical since my experience is that bus stations don't necessarily have the best food-- but it was really good and much nicer than I would have expected a restaurant at a bus/rail station to be).
I had a chicken and pasta dish-- not really German, but I had already had several sausages (I bought one from a street vendor in Reutlinger when we were there for lunch as well) and the pasta dish sounded good (and, I did order a German beer to go with it, so I figured that counted as continuing my German culinary experience).
It was good-- though I have noticed that there isn't much color in German food (which is why it doesn't photograph well). It's a lot of browns and off whites. It tastes good-- there just isn't the emphasis on color that I hear discussed a lot when I watch cooking shows (I've realized that I've missed most of Top Chef this season-- I'm not terribly disappointed since last season was a bit ridiculous. But, it's part of the reason I have this impression that color is important to cooking.)
Our final day in Germany, I was largely on my own-- Kristina's flight left really early and Laura and Mikko were off to have lunch with friends in another city. So, I headed back to Stuttgart (which made it easy to get to the airport to meet Laura and Mikko for our 5 pm flight) to wander the shops a bit and to get a better sense of the city. Stuttgart is mostly a modern, European city-- there were lots of popular and expensive clothing stores. However, it does have a palace right in the middle-- I think it's the town hall now.
It also has these strange looking trees everywhere.
They might not look as strange in the spring-- but, I kept trying to figure out why they ends of the branches were so knobby.
I went back to the Christmas market to get lunch-- it allowed me to point at what I wanted rather than try to order from a menu. And, I like "street food." I had a baguette with pizza toppings, which was ok (it wasn't hot enough, but I couldn't figure out how to ask the woman working the stand to heat it up more) but what was really great was the chocolate skewer I got. All weekend, we had been passing stalls selling chocolate-- there was chocolate of all varieties, but what seemed really popular were these skewers of fruit of all varieties (including unexpected fruits like grapes) covered in dark, milk or white chocolate. It was my last day-- I had to have one, so I bought a skewer of strawberries and bananas covered in dark chocolate. And then, I was sorry that my willpower had lasted so long. I should have been eating chocolate covered fruit every day.
What I really wanted to find in Stuttgart was some kind of souvenir shop, someplace that had sweatshirts with Germany written on them or lovely postcards or watercolor pictures. But, that doesn't exist-- I'm sure it does in someplace like Berlin which attracts more tourists, but there really is nothing touristy to buy in Stuttgart (or, Tubingen or Reutlingen for that matter). I thought that since there is such a large train station in Stuttgart (it's really a busy station with a lot of lines coming and going), and it seems like a lot of people have to pass through there on their way to somewhere else, there would be at least a couple stores that sold souvenirs, but I was wrong. So, I left Germany (after successfully navigating my way to the airport--which also didn't sell souvenirs of Germany-- on my own!) souvenir-less.
And now, in exactly a week, I will be back at Heathrow to fly back to the States. I don't think I'm traveling anymore before then-- I had thought about going back to Birmingham because I didn't to see all of it when I was there a few weeks ago (and, I kind of want to visit the aquarium and maybe the Cadbury factory), but I have to admit I've become a bit travel weary. It's been a fabulous 4 months, but really hectic-- and there's a part of me that likes the idea of just spending my last few days in Oxford. That may change later this week-- I may get a rush of feeling like I should be doing all I can with the little time left and decide I need at least one more day trip. But right now, being "home" in Oxford sounds like a nice way to spend my last week.
A couple weeks ago, I was sitting in a cafe having a glass of wine with my friend Laura, talking about how I was thinking of going to Geneva for a weekend (I wanted to go to Escalade-- a festival sort of like Carnival, except that it celebrates the defense of the town in 1602) and she said that instead of going to Geneva by myself, I should go to Germany with her, her husband, Mikko, and a friend of theirs from Finland. A couple hours-- and a couple more glasses of wine-- later, I had booked a flight to Stuttgart.
We met up with Kristina, Laura and Nikko's friend, in Stuttgart and headed immediately to get lunch. I decided to start off with as traditional a meal as I could find (or, have interpreted for me-- I speak absolutely no German. I generally wouldn't go to a foreign country so absolutely unprepared to communicate, but this was short notice. I didn't have time to learn any of the language. And, really, I mean any-- I can basically say no and thank you in German.). We went to Brahaus, a cute eatery
where I ordered a dish of lentils, sausage and spatzle.
It was really quite good, though I'm not sure that the picture does it justice (German food doesn't photograph well-- I discovered this more and more as the weekend went on). From lunch, we headed to the Christmas Market. German Christmas markets are imitated everywhere in Europe (see my post on the Christmas market in Birmingham, England)-- I'm not sure why the Christmas markets are considered a German thing (I'm sure there's a history on this I could look up), but if in Germany around the holiday season, it seems the thing to do to go to a Christmas Market. (Or, if somewhere else in Europe or the UK, to go to a German-style Christmas market.)
It actually looked quite a lot like the Christmas market in Birmingham-- but didn't feel quite as big. I think that's because it was more compacted with the loads of stalls put into a smaller space. It was festive, with Christmas scenes sitting atop almost every stall
and a large train set
which also included a larger train running around the perimeter that kids (and their parents) could ride on.
The thing to get at a German Christmas market is gluhwein (which literally means glow wine). It's mulled wine-- either red or white-- that can then be further spiked with other liqueurs. In Stuttgart, the options were amaretto or rum. (Later, in other cities, there were offerings of gluhwein with vodka and other alcohols-- it's basically alcohol with more alcohol, but hot so that it's comforting while walking around in the cold.) I had white wine with amaretto-- it was quite strong, especially at the bottom where it basically became all amaretto. But, it's the thing to do-- there were even nuns hanging out drinking gluhwein (though it's hard to tell from this picture that's what they're doing. I was trying to discreetly take the picture since I couldn't figure out a polite way to ask nuns if I could photograph them drinking-- especially not in German.).
From the Christmas market, we all got on a train and headed to Tubingen, where we were staying.
Tubingen is a little less than an hour away from Stuttgart. It's not where you go for a touristy visit to Germany, but it's a really cute town and does give a better sense of what "normal life" is like in Germany than a tourist city would. Since I was sort of a last minute addition to the trip, I was staying with a friend of Laura's in the old city center while the others were staying at another friend's house in the "suburbs." (I'm not sure that's really what you would call it in Germany, but that's basically what it amounted to.) The house in the suburbs that everyone else was staying at was really nice-- luxurious, really (it has a stunning gourmet kitchen, a bathroom with a sauna in it, and an absolutely huge wrap around deck-- though it was too cold to enjoy the deck). Where I was staying was not nearly as luxurious, but Norbert, the friend hosting me, acted like he was running a B&B. When I arrived, there was a bottle of mineral water, an apple, and chocolates awaiting me in my room. And, the next morning when I got up (every day, actually), breakfast-- with yogurt, cheese, meat, jams and jellies, and fresh bread from a local bakery-- was laid out on the table and coffee was ready to be percolated. It was really quite amazing-- and well beyond the free bed to sleep in that I was expecting (I really can't say enough about Norbert's generous hospitality-- it was way beyond what I would ever expect to be done for me, a total stranger crashing his home.).
Our first night in Tubingen, we went to a Greek restaurant where I got lamb fillets.
The food was pretty good, once mine got to the table. I felt oddly invisible all night-- everyone else got food and was nearly finished before mine finally arrived. And, after dinner, the waitress brought ouzo to the table-- and served it to everyone but me. I'm not sure if it was because I was the only one didn't speak German (and, so, was relying on others quite a bit to order for me), but after a while, it was kind of like I wasn't there. In the end, I got my small "revenge" though-- I accidentally wound up not tipping. While many credit card companies in the US have advertised that their credit cards will be accepted anywhere I want to be, it turns out that many places in Germany-- or, at least in Tubingen-- don't want to take a credit card (I used a credit card for my meal in Stuttgart... so perhaps it's only in smaller cities that credit cards aren't used). They want cash. (In fact, I don't think I used my credit card after that first afternoon in Stuttgart.) So, I paid for my meal at the Greek place in cash-- and took back my change when the waitress gave it to me, expecting to leave my tip on the table. However, when I went to leave a few euro, Laura leaned over and politely asked, "so, are you just going to leave money on the table?" in a way that suggested this wasn't the right thing to do. Apparently, you are supposed to ask the server for only the change you want back, and include the tip when you initially pay. It's rude to leave money on the table-- I'm not sure why, but you don't do it. So, apparently, it was less rude to leave no tip than to leave money sitting there which I don't quite get because it seems to me a tip on the table is better than no tip at all-- but, that didn't seem to be the case in Germany. (It's also apparently rude to tip in smaller change-- like you're throwing the change you can't use at someone.)
The next day, Laura had a photo shoot (she's in a band-- the photo shoot was a large part of the reason for the trip to Germany in the first place) in Reutlinger, a town about 25 minutes from Tubingen. While Laura and Mikko went to the photo shoot, Kristina and I went shopping (mostly for clothes for Kristina). Reutlinger is a fairly wealthy town-- I don't think we were where the truly rich live.
The city center, which is a fairly small square area surrounded by modern looking stores and conventional city buildings, did look quite traditionally German-- or at least like what I think Germany looks like when I picture it in my head.
Since I was told several times that this is where the wealthy people live, and I don't often think of the wealthy as tradespeople, it was surprising to find this really intricate monument to trade craft in the city center.
Every section depicts a scene of a different trade craft or profession (like shop keeper). The detail in each section was really quite amazing- like in this cobbler section.
After several hours in Reutlingen, we went back to Tubingen to get ready for a holiday dinner with a group (about 14 people) of Laura's friends (which included a white elephant gift exchange. It's a little daunting buying a present that will wind up in the hands of one of a group of strangers-- I went with buying chocolate from a fancy store in Oxford.). The dinner was at a pub in Tubingen, though it was a fancier meal than I would have expected from a pub. (I don't know that's what I would have called it-- I think I would have just referred to the place as a restaurant. But, pub seemed to have a more general meaning in Germany than it does in England, where it refers to a relatively specific kind of place.) Fortunately, everyone at dinner spoke English-- they didn't speak it to each other, but they were kind enough to include me in conversation and speak English for my benefit. (And, again, I'm amazed at how uneducated Americans, and I obviously include myself, are in this area-- everyone there spoke multiple languages because they are taught multiple languages from an early age in school. English is clearly dominant world-wide-- there haven't been many times when I have encountered moments when I couldn't get by with English [though the story of one such moment is coming up], but I still think we're quite foolish not to be encouraging kids to learn multiple languages in a world that is increasingly "shrinking.")
The next day was Sunday-- a day when just about everything is closed. So, we were planning to have brunch at Sebastian's house (the house where Laura, Mikko and Kristina were staying). I had met up with them there the day before when we were headed to Reutlingen, and so thought I had the bus route mastered. I was completely wrong. I headed to the bus stop and read the bus schedules to figure out which bus (there were two that would get me to where I was headed) I wanted to take. I was very proud of myself for figuring out that the first bus was only going to go as far as the central bus/rail station-- it's not that it's so hard to read a bus schedule in any language since they all basically work the same way, but that the German names of places look like gibberish to me (German, in general, is really confusing to me- nothing is spelled the way it sounds, though I did get better at reading names of places and food as the weekend went on-- hence how I was able to recognize the name of the bus/rail station stop.). I was feeling good about recognizing that I shouldn't get on the first bus that came, but the one that came right after it which was going to drive the entire route, until we went past the stop before the one I wanted and then continued to some stop I'd never heard of. It certainly wasn't the one I was expecting to come to next-- so I hit the stop button (or, halt button as it says on German buses) and then, when the bus stopped, tried to ask the bus driver why we hadn't stopped where I was expecting. This didn't go well-- I basically wound up pointing to a piece of paper with the name of the stop I wanted since the driver didn't seem to understand what I was asking and then he replied with something that may have been helpful, like directions for how to get where it was I wanted to go, or something quite rude, like calling me an American idiot who didn't know how to read a bus schedule (it turns out that the bus schedule did explain this different Sunday route-- but this explanation was in very tiny print at the bottom, which made it seem unimportant. And, it was in German-- so even if I had recognized that the tiny print was important, I wouldn't have understood what it was telling me.). Either response from the driver is entirely possible since I had no idea what he was saying; I was told many times that everyone in Germany speaks English, but really, it's everyone who is considered educated (and then, they do speak virtually flawless-- and virtually unaccented-- English) but not those who drive buses or taxis. I decided that no matter what the explanation was for why I was not at the stop I recognized was, it was better to get off the bus than continue going the wrong direction. I was hoping that if I crossed the street and stood at the bus stop going back in the direction I had come from, a bus would come along and take me to the stop I wanted-- or at least back to where I started. So, I stood there for a while, on a suburban street corner with no one around to ask whether or not my plan was a good one...
There had been a back-up plan for if I got lost-- I had Kristina's iPhone with me. Her phone will dial internationally. Mine won't. (When I first arrived in Oxford, I went to get cell phone plan and asked at the store if the plan I was getting would allow my phone to work outside the UK and was assured that it would. This has turned out to be partially true-- no matter where I am, I can receive calls and texts. But, outside the UK, I can't dial out or sent a text or access data-- I didn't discover this until I went to Brussels and tried to answer a text one of my students sent me. Outside the UK, this renders my phone relatively useless as anything other than a camera. Fortunately, this hasn't posed a problem-- until now.) But, the back-up plan failed. Kristina's phone battery had died-- this didn't intially appear to be a problem since I had my iPad charger with me and had charged her phone before I set out. What I didn't know is that the battery dying caused her SIM card to lock-- so, now, I was standing at a deserted bus stop (though, deserted in the sense that no one was out, not in an unsafe way) with two phones that wouldn't allow me to call anyone for help. And, it started to rain. (When I finally got to where I was going, my friends tried to look on the bright side, commenting that at least it hadn't been raining during this whole ordeal. Much like a tragic cartoon character, it seems I had my own personal rain cloud that was hovering only over me. It was really the only time it rained-- we got really lucky. The forecast for the whole weekend had said there was a 90% chance of rain at every hour, but while it was often overcast, it never really rained. Except at this moment-- but that does add a fortunate further dramatic element to the narrative.) I stood on the corner feeling quite bad for myself, picturing the rest of my life stuck at a bus stop (which I get was totally exaggerated-- but there was a chance I would be there for hours), wondering how long it would take for anyone to try to call my phone (after I didn't answer Kristina's-- a locked SIM meant I couldn't receive calls or texts either) to find out where I was. It was a low moment in traveling.
Eventually, a bus did come along (I probably stood there for about 40 minutes) and did take me to the stop I wanted (it was actually only one stop away-- it turns out I was pretty close to where I needed to be the whole time. But, I was standing on an unfamiliar street with names I didn't recognize and landmarks I had never seen before, so I didn't know. There was no way I could have navigated my way to where I wanted to be.) and I met up with my friends-- who had just finished brunch and were just starting to wonder where I was (they thought maybe I had slept in since we had been out late at the Christmas dinner the night before and had decided to have yet another lovely breakfast at Norbert's-- I had actually forgone the lovely breakfast which had once again been set out for me because I knew I was going to brunch, so by the time I arrived, I was quite hungry which was not helping my mood any.)
After I ate (and tried to reframe the whole ordeal in my head-- it worked out in the end and I wasn't hurt or dead-- so that I wasn't upset anymore) we all headed back to the city center of Tubingen to get a good look at the city in daylight and go to the castle.
The city itself is really lovely, especially along the Neckar River.
The actual city center is filled with gorgeous buildings, including this one, one of the oldest in Tubingen, built in 1584.
Tubingen has also been home to a lot of great German thinkers-- it's something of an intellectual center-- including Hegel, Howard Hesse, Alois Alzheimer and Goethe, who is said to have thrown up on passers-by from this window (this is what passed for funny to him-- it takes the estimation of him as a "great thinker" down a little...).
The sign below the window actually says Goethe puked here in German (Hier kotzte Goethe).
The castle, Schloss Hohentubingen, is located at the top of a hill (Tubingen is really hilly) and offers great views of the whole city.
The castle itself was built around 1050 for the Count Palatine of Tubingen. It served as a residence and stronghold for several hundreds of years but has been fully a part of the University of Tubingen since 1816 (Tubigen's university is quite large-- students make up about 10% of the population in the city.).
We walked back from the castle on a slightly different route, through streets that felt a little more residential, passing interesting-looking houses along the way-- mostly interesting for the way they were melding with nature or decorated on the outside.
From touring the city, we went to see a children's Christmas play. (I hadn't initially planned to go, but Norbert, my host, didn't make it back from his grandmother's birthday party in time to go since the play was at 4 pm, so I used his ticket rather than have it go to waste, though I don't think my taking his seat really stopped it from being "wasted.") I thought that maybe since this was a children's play and it was a musical, I would least be able to follow the action and understand what was going on. I was very wrong-- the play was absurd and surreal (and, I was told later, contained a lot of word play that probably would have been difficult for some of the German kids in the audience). It all basically took place in the head of the main character (I at least got that there was some kind of dream-like thing happening-- that's as far as I got, so I can't really tell you what the play was about, though I gathered from Laura, who explained a little of it to me afterwards, it had some kind of moral about accepting yourself for the talents you have) and there were very few actual musical numbers (there was a lot background music, but it wasn't a musical in the way I was thinking). I have to admit, I dozed off quite a bit-- the theater was warm, it was dark, between my bus ordeal and walking around, I was quite tired and eventually, the dialogue all sounded like white noise to me. That said-- the costumes were really good. So was what existed of a set (though, that was pretty minimalistic).
From the play, we went back to the city center (really, only a few blocks from the theater-- Tubingen proper isn't that big) to wander the Christmas market (which was open even though all the shops are closed on Sundays) for a couple hours. It looked a lot like the market in Stuttgart, though it was more spread out. And, since it was night, the fun Christmas lights were on display.
We had dinner in the pub at the bus/rail station (I was a little skeptical since my experience is that bus stations don't necessarily have the best food-- but it was really good and much nicer than I would have expected a restaurant at a bus/rail station to be).
I had a chicken and pasta dish-- not really German, but I had already had several sausages (I bought one from a street vendor in Reutlinger when we were there for lunch as well) and the pasta dish sounded good (and, I did order a German beer to go with it, so I figured that counted as continuing my German culinary experience).
It was good-- though I have noticed that there isn't much color in German food (which is why it doesn't photograph well). It's a lot of browns and off whites. It tastes good-- there just isn't the emphasis on color that I hear discussed a lot when I watch cooking shows (I've realized that I've missed most of Top Chef this season-- I'm not terribly disappointed since last season was a bit ridiculous. But, it's part of the reason I have this impression that color is important to cooking.)
Our final day in Germany, I was largely on my own-- Kristina's flight left really early and Laura and Mikko were off to have lunch with friends in another city. So, I headed back to Stuttgart (which made it easy to get to the airport to meet Laura and Mikko for our 5 pm flight) to wander the shops a bit and to get a better sense of the city. Stuttgart is mostly a modern, European city-- there were lots of popular and expensive clothing stores. However, it does have a palace right in the middle-- I think it's the town hall now.
It also has these strange looking trees everywhere.
They might not look as strange in the spring-- but, I kept trying to figure out why they ends of the branches were so knobby.
I went back to the Christmas market to get lunch-- it allowed me to point at what I wanted rather than try to order from a menu. And, I like "street food." I had a baguette with pizza toppings, which was ok (it wasn't hot enough, but I couldn't figure out how to ask the woman working the stand to heat it up more) but what was really great was the chocolate skewer I got. All weekend, we had been passing stalls selling chocolate-- there was chocolate of all varieties, but what seemed really popular were these skewers of fruit of all varieties (including unexpected fruits like grapes) covered in dark, milk or white chocolate. It was my last day-- I had to have one, so I bought a skewer of strawberries and bananas covered in dark chocolate. And then, I was sorry that my willpower had lasted so long. I should have been eating chocolate covered fruit every day.
What I really wanted to find in Stuttgart was some kind of souvenir shop, someplace that had sweatshirts with Germany written on them or lovely postcards or watercolor pictures. But, that doesn't exist-- I'm sure it does in someplace like Berlin which attracts more tourists, but there really is nothing touristy to buy in Stuttgart (or, Tubingen or Reutlingen for that matter). I thought that since there is such a large train station in Stuttgart (it's really a busy station with a lot of lines coming and going), and it seems like a lot of people have to pass through there on their way to somewhere else, there would be at least a couple stores that sold souvenirs, but I was wrong. So, I left Germany (after successfully navigating my way to the airport--which also didn't sell souvenirs of Germany-- on my own!) souvenir-less.
And now, in exactly a week, I will be back at Heathrow to fly back to the States. I don't think I'm traveling anymore before then-- I had thought about going back to Birmingham because I didn't to see all of it when I was there a few weeks ago (and, I kind of want to visit the aquarium and maybe the Cadbury factory), but I have to admit I've become a bit travel weary. It's been a fabulous 4 months, but really hectic-- and there's a part of me that likes the idea of just spending my last few days in Oxford. That may change later this week-- I may get a rush of feeling like I should be doing all I can with the little time left and decide I need at least one more day trip. But right now, being "home" in Oxford sounds like a nice way to spend my last week.
Bacelona! Where it's Warm and Sunny
even if the people who live there don't know it. Seriously-- it's 65 degrees and they walk around in scarves and winter jackets. I'm sure they thought I was crazy walking around with no coat on-- but it was like British summer there. I was almost sorry I hadn't packed sandals.
I met my friend Martha in Barcelona for a four day vacation that turned out not to really be four days for me since my original flight was canceled and I had to sit in Heathrow for quite a while waiting to get out. So, I missed a lot of the first "day," though I did get there before the sun set (it sets much later than it does in England which was also nice. There was daylight until about 6 pm instead of a 3:30 setting sun.). After getting off the bus from the airport and wandering in circles for a bit (I was given bad directions the first time I asked), I found our hotel-- Hotel Catalunya located on the very cute C. Santa Anna, right off Catalunya Square and Las Ramblas.
(It was also nice at night, lit up for Christmas.)
I had arrived late afternoon, which meant we had time to walk along Las Ramblas and have early evening cocktails there. We ordered sangria, which I don't love, but I figured I had to have at least one sangria while in Spain-- and we got the biggest sangrias I have ever had (the picture doesn't do them justice).
The size didn't really make me like them any better--I'm not a converted sangria drinker now, but it was nice to sit and people watch on Las Ramblas with a cocktail. It felt like spring! Mostly, it was people walking by but there was also a protest that passed us.
There were protesting activities in Syria-- from what I could tell (since I don't read Arabic or Spanish), I think they were protesting Spain's policies about violence in Syria. At any rate, it was a very peaceful march. Following our drinks, we set off to find the nearby Plaza de Relal (pictured during the day because it didn't photograph well in the dark)
where there was a bar, Tarantos, with a flamenco performance; even though flamenco itself isn't really a Catalan tradition (it's not quite regionally appropriate), it was still really cool to watch. There were several numbers including a partnered dance
I met my friend Martha in Barcelona for a four day vacation that turned out not to really be four days for me since my original flight was canceled and I had to sit in Heathrow for quite a while waiting to get out. So, I missed a lot of the first "day," though I did get there before the sun set (it sets much later than it does in England which was also nice. There was daylight until about 6 pm instead of a 3:30 setting sun.). After getting off the bus from the airport and wandering in circles for a bit (I was given bad directions the first time I asked), I found our hotel-- Hotel Catalunya located on the very cute C. Santa Anna, right off Catalunya Square and Las Ramblas.
(It was also nice at night, lit up for Christmas.)
I had arrived late afternoon, which meant we had time to walk along Las Ramblas and have early evening cocktails there. We ordered sangria, which I don't love, but I figured I had to have at least one sangria while in Spain-- and we got the biggest sangrias I have ever had (the picture doesn't do them justice).
The size didn't really make me like them any better--I'm not a converted sangria drinker now, but it was nice to sit and people watch on Las Ramblas with a cocktail. It felt like spring! Mostly, it was people walking by but there was also a protest that passed us.
There were protesting activities in Syria-- from what I could tell (since I don't read Arabic or Spanish), I think they were protesting Spain's policies about violence in Syria. At any rate, it was a very peaceful march. Following our drinks, we set off to find the nearby Plaza de Relal (pictured during the day because it didn't photograph well in the dark)
where there was a bar, Tarantos, with a flamenco performance; even though flamenco itself isn't really a Catalan tradition (it's not quite regionally appropriate), it was still really cool to watch. There were several numbers including a partnered dance
a solo performance by the woman
and by the man.
and by the man.
Continuing our evening of doing stereotypically Spanish things, we went for a late dinner (late for us anyway-- it was definitely after 9 pm, which is actually still early for the Spanish), we found a restaurant in the Plaza de Relal called Marrisco
and had tapas (including olives, cheese, calamari and patatas bravas) and cava.
And, then, headed back to our hotel-- we were both jet lagged.
The next day was our big Gaudi day-- we went off in search of everything Gaudi. The two best known houses completed by Gaudi weren't very far from our hotel. They were along the Passeig de Gracia, which was on the other side of Catalunya Square from our hotel.
Catalunya Square itself is really nice--there are fountains and statues, though much of it is somewhat obscured by the ice skating rink that's been set up there.
There are these cute penguins at the ice skating rink that kids can use to help them balance.
And, there are tents of food vendors who sell meats, cheeses and pastries (which is what we decided to have for breakfast-- we were walking right past them anyway).
Passeig de Gracia has gorgeous architecture, even before you get to the Gaudi houses.
Details on the buildings are amazing.
It's like the whole street is competing to be worthy of the famous housing that brings tourists there-- which it sort of is, but not because the street was initially meant to be a tourist attraction. At the beginning of the 20th century, the district, Eixample (which is this district) was the focal point of Barcelona's expansion and it's where the bourgeoisie started to settle. Casa Batllo (which is simply stunning from the outside, though we didn't go in) was built by Gaudi between 1904 and 1906
and Casa Mila, also known as La Pedrera (the stone quarry) was commissioned in 1906, taking about 6 years to complete. It's a series of apartments built around two courtyards with an undulating building facade.
The building is two sets of apartment groupings centered around two connecting courtyards that the stairwells wrap around. And then, there is the fantastic roof. The structures on the roof are water towers and chimneys-- but are made to look like works of art, integrating design and function.
All the structures on the roof use stone, except for this one
which is covered in glass from champagne bottles, just to symbolize the social nature of the rooftop terrace as well as the whimsy. The tour of Casa Mila also includes the attic which is a guide to Gaudi's ideas and goals, going over the history of his buildings throughout Barcelona and how they were built. What's interesting about Casa Mila is that none of the interior walls were structural in nature, so that residents could take them down or move them as they wanted in order to fit their lifestyles. The attic history even included small things, like Gaudi created door handles-- he was really the first person to think of something other than the door knob. We owe credit for the modern door handle to Gaudi-- apparently no one before him thought to create a door handle that fits naturally into the contours of the hand. It's one of those things that seems so simple, and yet it took until the 20th century to think of it.
Given how ornate the building itself is, I was expecting the apartments to be equally intricate-- but instead they were rather pared down by comparison to the exterior and roof.
The "servants" areas, like the kitchen above, were especially sparse. There is a stark contrast between the small bedroom for the maid or nanny, which wasn't much bigger than a closet, and the master bedroom which was much more spacious.
From Casa Mila, we headed towards Avenue Diagonal (a diagonally crossing road) to get to La Sagrada Familia. Again, even the architecture before we got to our destination was amazing. We passed buildings like Casa Les Punxes
and this building (I have no idea why there is a giant owl on top).
Even "mundane" buildings are ornate and gorgeous in Barcelona.
Given how tall it is, it's not easy to see La Sagrada Familia until you're just about on top of it-- we kept expecting to see the towers from all over the city because from the roof on Casa Mila we could tell it was taller than most other buildings in Barcelona-- and yet, you really can't see it until you're close to it. It is quite impressive (though the cranes surrounding it take away from the majesty a little-- it's still under construction, as it has been since 1882. Apparently, Gaudi didn't realize he wouldn't live long enough to see its completion-- clearly he didn't plan for it to take significantly more than 130 years. Or he thought he was immortal.)
We had walked quite a ways by this time and were hungry, so we had lunch in an outdoor cafe, Afiparc, in the shadow (sunny shadow) of La Sagrada Familia. We had really good patatas bravas and choricitos, which were tiny, slightly spicy sausages that were amazing-- one of the best things we ate in Barcelona.
We wandered around La Sagrada Familia
Parc Guell looked a lot closer on the map than it turned out to be-- it was a very long hike there, which make sense since it's more than 50 acres in size. It couldn't be in the middle of the city-- and, in fact, it is on the edge and the walk is upwards, and very steep. But we made it to the park, which is equally as steep as the walk there.
I, however, decided to climb up some of the hill to see the views. (Martha's feet were horribly blistered by this point, so I showed her my photos of the Mediterranean when I came down.)
(I was also trying to spot the Gaudi statues and fountain, which are also surprisingly hard to see until you are right on them-- you can see they are not in the picturesque picture. I'm not sure how Gaudi managed to create iconic buildings and structures that are also camouflaged within their geography-- it's really an impressive feat, though a little frustrating as a tourist trying to find landmarks to navigate by.). Fortunately, the famous fountain and statues are downhill from where we entered the park (which was not the main entrance), and towards the main entrance where taxis were waiting to take us home, so we did get to see the famous tiled benches,
"ceiling" tiles,
lizard,
and the large pavilion it's all a part of.
Even the house that now serves as the gift shop is incredible.
After resting a bit in the hotel, we ventured out to find another Spanish staple, paella. We stopped at a place on Las Ramblas, Choquito
which was probably a mistake since everything on that main road is really touristy-- there is certainly better paella to be found (as we found out the next day), but it also would have been a lot more expensive (we were told that good, authentic paella can easily cost 40 euro a person) than our meal at Choquito was.
(Notice how orange our paella is-- this will be important shortly.) It was good, even if it wasn't necessarily top quality paella.
To start off our third day in Barcelona, we went to a cooking class (which was Martha's brilliant idea)-- it was supposed to be a large group (like, 12 people), but it turned out that only Martha and I had signed up (I cannot recommend going to Barcelona in the off season enough-- the weather is still really lovely and there aren't horrible crowds Nor does the pick-pocketing we were vehemently warned about seem rampant-- I think it's a lot harder to steal things when there's no crowd around to distract tourists or make "bumping into" victims truly seem accidental. And, fabulous things like getting a private cooking lesson happen in the off season.).
The cooking lesson was in this really cute kitchen
and taught by Chef Candido. It's his school, run by him and his wife Emma who are both really, really nice. The wine started flowing as soon as we got there, and we spent a couple hours prepping and cooking our amazing meal.
Our menu for the day was butternut squash and pear soup (which the chef kept referring to as a cream soup even though there was no cream in it-- it got its creaminess from the pureeing at the end) finished with chives, Gorgonzola and candied hazelnuts
a Spanish Tortilla (which is a lot like a frittata, except it never goes in the oven-- it's done all on the stove-top) and tomato bread
and chicken paella (because we were taking this class on a Monday and were told that no one who knows anything buys seafood on a Monday in Barcelona-- it's not fresh)
which is a lovely slightly yellowed color, not orange like the one we got the night before, because our cooking class paella was made with actual saffron. I showed Chef Candido the picture of our paella from the night before and he pulled out a jar of powdered orange food coloring from a drawer and told us that any paella with that truly bright yellow/orange coloring was made with food coloring, not saffron. (Of course, paella made with real saffron and the array of vegetables present in the one we made in class would have cost a whole lot more... so we probably got what we paid for the night before.) For dessert, we made Catalan Creme, which is similar to Creme Brulee, but the "creme" part is a lot lighter and not quite as sweet.
We left after several hours, incredibly full, with recipes for everything we'd made and the leftover tortilla and paella to have for dinner that night (the tortilla actually became breakfast the next day) and headed over to La Boqueria, the giant food marketplace (where you should never buy fish on Monday). This is the only place where I thought it would have been easy to have something stolen- it's really crowded, even on a Monday when it's supposedly not as busy. The array of food is amazing; even the seafood we were warned against looked like it would be good.
There were vegetables, meats, fish, cheeses, olives, prepared foods, chocolates, fruit juices-- all the food you could imagine really. And there were these things
which looked like they might be fried oysters and and some kind of fried fish stick with other stuff in a cone. What really threw us were the eggs on top-- we don't think they were actual eggs, but rather fake ones made from passion fruit (which is apparently a thing in Barcelona), but we've never actually figured out what they are. And, we were way to full from our cooking school feast to buy one to try. Instead, we bought a few assorted chocolates to have for dessert later that night and went to wander a bit in the Gothic Quarter where we visited the Basilica Santa Maria del Pi
which was built between 1320 and 1391, though the interior has changed a bit over the years because parts of it have been destroyed by fire. The basic structure is original though-- and, no matter how much I travel around, it still amazes me that buildings like this
could have been built so long ago.
In addition to being an amazing example of Catalan Gothic architecture, the church also has one of the largest rose windows in the world.
After wandering the Gothic Quarter (we were actually in search of the Catedral though never seemed to be able to get there), we had big plans to finish our day of gastronomical delights at the Chocolate Museum. However, we went back to the hotel to drop off our food leftovers and purchases (after stopping off to buy a cup of the richest hot chocolate I've ever had-- and still not as good as the hot chocolate in Bath. And it was so rich I couldn't finish it.)
where I laid down on the bed and fell fast asleep for about an hour and a half. I don't know what happened-- I was awake and discussing the metro station we needed to go to in order to get to the Chocolate Museum and then I was waking up and it was too late to go. But since it was mostly me who wanted to go to the Barcelona Chocolate Museum (I wanted to compare it to the one in Brussels), Martha wasn't too upset I fell asleep.
Instead of continuing our day of gastronomy, we decided to preview our activities for the next day-- we were planning to got to the Picasso Museum on Tuesday, so Monday evening, we went to 4 Cats, the famed restaurant where Picasso and all of his famous painter friends once hung out.
We had read reviews of the place which said we had to go for the history and because it's really cute (as you can see from the pictures), but not to eat there because the food was overpriced and not very good. So, I had a glass of cava and Martha had absinthe (which should be mixed with a little water in order to not be toxically harsh to swallow-- as she found out the hard way) and we had chips (actual potato chips, not fries) and olives and an order of tomato bread (mostly because we wanted to compare it to the one we had made hours before at our cooking school-- we had been told that most places use cheaper, more watery tomatoes and that you can easily tell the difference between them and the really nice, much more expensive tomatoes we used in class. And, it turns out, you can.). Instead of getting a "real" dinner that night, we wandered back to Las Ramblas to find the woman who sells roasted sweet potatoes (really-- she just sells cooked, plain sweet potatoes. And, they're quite yummy.) and chestnuts and bought that to go with our leftover paella. Finally, later that night, we ate our delicious chocolates from La Boqueria. It was a very successful culinary day.
On our last day in Barcelona, we set off in the morning for the Picasso Museum. On our way, we happened by the elusive Catedral we had been looking for the day before, so we went in. (Again, I don't know how we missed it-- it should have stood out above other buildings, but you can't really see it in the skyline.)
Like the Basilica, the inside is astounding.
The Catedral was largely built over a couple of centuries (13th-15th)-- how they even got all the stones up that high (I don't think the photograph truly gives a sense of the scale of the building) with no real machinery, let alone how they built something that has stood, solidly, for so long is unfathomable. (I know there are scholars who know the answers to these questions and that there are explanations for how these buildings were constructed-- I have even read some of them. It makes it no less amazing.)
Having finally seen the Catedral (which was high on my list) we continued on our path (which wasn't really that long-- it was reasonably close to our hotel) to the Picasso Museum (there are no photos of this part as photography wasn't allowed). It's set up in a series of "mansions" (really, large apartments) and contains works mostly donated by Picasso himself. The museum is set up chronologically, charting Picasso's development as an artist. My favorite part was the section devoted to Picasso's paintings of his friend Jaume Sabartes with pin-up girls.(You can see the most well-known one here http://www.leninimports.com/picasso_jaime_pin_up_postcard.jpg, though it's not my favorite. I bought a bookmark with my favorite on it.)
The last thing on our list of must-dos in Barcelona was Montjuic. Montjuic is a giant park and like Parc Guell, it's on a very steep hill. It's really too steep to climb to the top (every guide we read said you would have to be crazy or a serious hiker to attempt to do it from the bottom)-- so we took several modes of transportation to get to the Montjuic Castle: the metro, a funicular, and a cable car. The view-- both of the Mediterranean and the city-- was totally worth it.
There is actually a lot situated on Montjuic-- so much stuff, in fact, that it really does take a pretty full day to see it all. There is the National Gallery of Art, the Olympic Park where the games were held in 1992 (though the stadium was built in 1929 as part of Barcelona's bid for the 1936 Olympics, which went to Berlin. There was actually a "protest" Olympics-- the People's Olypiad-- scheduled in Barcelona for later in 1936, but it never happened due to the Spanish Civil War.), the Fundacio Joan Miro, and lots of other things, but we focused largely on the Castle.
Montjuic, because it is so high up, has been used for thousands of years as a site of fortification-- it's historical link goes back to "prehistoric times" (I don't really get that phrasing-- if it's prehistoric I'm not sure how anyone knows what happened, but basically, it's been used as a defensive site for as long as anyone knows.). The castle itself was built over the course of a couple hundred years, from the 16th to the 18th centuries and was used as a prison as recently as in the 1930s during the Spanish Civil War when it was used to imprison political leaders.
As you can tell from the pictures, it was a gorgeous day out, so we had lunch in the cafe in the courtyard (sitting out in the warm sun) and wandered around a bit looking at the military relics, mostly cannons,
and some of the more random sites in the castle, including this work of art located in a small room on the edge of the courtyard.
It's called "The Double Cross." There's something about the mirror positioning that make it look like the Star of David in the reflection even though the actual sculpture looks like a cross. It was created by Carles Berga around 2004.
After we descended part of the mountain by cable car, we wandered around on for a while on a lower level of the park, past this statue
which we both took pictures of because it seemed so bizarre-- why was there a giant purple-ish cone in the middle of a garden? (We tried to Google it later-- it turns out lots of people have taken pictures of this same statue and no one really seems certain about what it is.)
For our last evening in Barcelona, we decided we wanted authentic tapas, so we headed out to find a restaurant recommended to us by Chef Candido-- Canete. It's off Las Ramblas, but it's down a pretty narrow side street and clearly not a touristy place. In fact, the menu was in Catalan (not Spanish) and there were no menus in English available. What was really cool about it was that the chefs cooked out in the open, so you could watch them prepare your food.
Despite the fact that we really didn't understand the menu, we did quite well with our ordering. We had oysters (which Martha had heard we had to try in Barcelona) and empanadas
fried Parmesan croquettes (which had a fancier name that I can't remember-- in fact, all the food had fancier names, but they were in Catalan so the best I can do is describe what the food basically was) and ham croquettes
and a chorizo, egg and potato dish.
And, we ordered tomato bread again, once again to compare.
(This tomato bread was pretty good, but we still thought what we made in class was better.)
After dinner, we walked along Las Ramblas one more time, got some gelato (which is everywhere-- there is gelato piled up in every other storefront. I thought gelato was an Italian thing, but it is clearly popular in Barcelona. This was actually our second gelato-- we had some Sunday evening as well.) and went back to the hotel relatively early (especially for Barcelona-- after living in Oxford for a few months, where all the stores close pretty promptly at 5 pm [though not restaurants-- they stay open quite late], it's a little shocking to have so many shops open at 10 at night-- and even later) since we had to leave for the airport at 4:30 am (I'm sure an early flight seemed like a good idea at the time I booked it, but it was painful when it actually happened.).
And then, I landed in London to find out that it had snowed overnight and there was slush and ice everywhere. The sunny warmth of Barcelona felt really far away even though I had only left a couple hours before. I've decided that it's not so much that it's significantly colder in Oxford than it is in the US-- I think it's that it gets colder sooner and, more important, when it's this cold in the US, I can simply go from my warm car to the warm indoors. The cold seems much more extreme after I've been standing at the bus stop for 15 minutes and then still have to walk a ways to get where I'm going once I get off the bus. It is prompting me to think I may want to buy wool socks. Or, a winter home in Spain.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Figures in Wax
I decided to do just about the most touristy thing I could do in London-- and go to Madame Tussauds. I haven't been to a wax museum since I was really young and my family went to the one in Niagra Falls-- and I really don't remember it, I just remember we went. So, I booked my place for 1 pm and headed into London.
Since I arrived in London early, I started off my day doing something equally touristy, though a little more off-the-beaten-path-- I visited the Sherlock Holmes museum. As you would expect, the Sherlock Holmes Museum is near the Baker Street Underground (which is where Madame Tussauds is located as well-- also part of why I chose to do both on the same day), but in case you're not sure you're in the right place, when you exit the station, you're greeted with this:
221B Baker Street is right around the corner (actually-- at the statue, you turn left for Madame Tussauds and right for the Sherlock Holmes Museum).
And, the door is guarded-- though I'm pretty sure I don't remember a guard in any of the Sherlock Holmes stories.
He's really there for crowd control-- the museum itself, as it's located in a fairly narrow house, can only hold a small group of people at a time. There are three and a half floors to the museum (yes, there's a half floor). The first floor (which is up a set of stairs, as the British would expect, but this makes it the second floor for Americans) has Holmes' study and bedroom. The study is remarkably set up pretty much like I would imagine it from the books-- small, illuminated by two broad windows, and overlooking Baker Street.
It contains all the artifacts like his violin,
Watson and Holmes' hats and a magnifying glass, all in front of a cozy fire
and, even Holmes opium pipe.
His bedroom is a bit more sparse and not quite as cozy
There are "maids" around to ask about the house-- what's funny about this is that people often ask questions about Holmes and Watson as though they are real people. For example, the maid on duty that day said that people often ask her if that's the actual bed Holmes slept on. (She's supposed to say yes, but said she can't quite bring herself to do it. I personally would-- if people don't know that Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character and not a real person, I think they deserve to be messed with.) It does make me wonder if those who think Holmes was a real person leave the museum even certain, thinking they have seen the real artifacts from his life.
The second floor of the museum is Dr. Watson's bedroom
and Mrs. Hudson's (the landlady) bedroom.
It's also as the stories and books describe-- located near each other with Watson's room overlooking the rear of the house. The best part of Mrs. Hudson's room is the voodoo mummy in the corner.
I don't really remember anything about voodoo in the Sherlock Holmes stories... but I have to admit that I'm not even close to being a Holmes expert. The pamphlet the museum gives out describes three kinds of visitors to the museum: those who have heard of him (maybe seen a movie or two), those who know a great deal (read most of the stories, seen all the movies-- all versions), and those who are experts. I'm somewhere between the first and second. (Given that the pamphlet does mention Arthur Conan Doyle and all the ways in which the fictional Holmes has materialized, you would think visitors would pick up in the fact that he's not real... but maybe some people don't read their pamphlet?)
The page boy is set at the bottom of the stairs to the third floor, ready to run and do errands for Holmes.
He's the introduction to the last full floor of the museum which contain representations of characters from the stories. This is also a nice preview to Madame Tussauds-- a mini wax figure exhibition before the big one. (I'm pretty sure these are Tussaud created figures, but I'm not positive-- it didn't say anywhere.)
There are some great representations, like the man with the twisted lip,
Irene Adler with the King of Bohemia,
Sherlock and Watson finding a tomb with a mummy,
and, even Reginald Musgrave peering in through the ceiling, looking at Brunton (the butler) below.
There is also this guy.
He's real. He sits in that chair, barely awake and every once in a while he wakes up and turns the crank on the box located next to him. In the box is a scene from The Hound of the Baskervilles. Not much happens; a few light are illuminated in the box to show the scene and after he turns the crank for about fifteen seconds, there is the brief sound of a dog barking. He says, "the hound of the Baskervilles" after the barking and then goes back to sleep for a few more minutes until a new group enters and he goes through the demonstration again. I want his job one day.
This room also has letters to Sherlock Holmes, most of which are from school children. They come from around the world and most treat Holmes like a real person, often asking him to write back. A few writers, however, do at least seem to know that Holmes can't write about and acknowledge the futility, if not necessarily for the right reason. This was my favorite letter:
I just really like that it's addressed to Mr. Dead Sherlock Holmes (as well as the post script re-emphasizing how stupid the writer feels since someone dead and buried clearly won't be getting the letter).
The final room of the tour is about five steps up-- into the washroom.
where there is also a glass-encased owl which is more reminiscent of Harry Potter than Sherlock Holmes, but maybe there is an owl in one of the stories and it's just that pop culture has made me associate an owl more with Hedwig.
From the fictional world of Holmes, I was off to mingle with real celebrities at Madame Tussauds. I arrived earlier than my booked time, but they let me in anyway-- the middle of the week in late November is a great time to go if you don't want to compete with the masses for the attention of the Hollywood glitterati.
You enter Madame Tussauds and go up the elevator straight into the Hollywood Oscar party to have drinks with George Clooney
or Santa, who for some reason is in this section.
It may be the one place where Santa is least popular--this was the one guy no one seemed to be taking pictures with. Hollywood continues actors dressed from movie scenes-- starting with Bollywood.
I have no idea who any of these people are-- but they seemed quite popular. I knew who everyone else was, though. Liza,
Arnold and Bruce,
Robert Downey Jr. (continuing my Sherlock Holmes theme),
and Marilyn.
I even got to have breakfast with Audrey.
Directors get to have their moments to. Steven Spielberg is on set
though for some reason, Alfred Hitchcock is just hanging out in the stairwell.
From movies, you move to sports. The world of sports at Madame Tussauds is largely dominated by footballers-- and, by that I mean soccer players (there were no NFL players). I didn't recognize a lot of the figures there, but I did know Rafa (the only current tennis player with a wax figure on display which surprised me. No Roger Federer? No Andy Murray?)
and Tom Daly (who is disappointingly difficult to take a picture with since he's diving from quite high up_
I was back on better known terrain as I moved from sports to well-known historical and current celebrities. There were kings and queens from all times represented.
This is where I realized I was woefully under-dressed-- who wears jeans and sneakers to meet the Queen and the rest of the Royals? I should have thought about this before I set out on my day (rather than thinking about all the walking I would be doing... which is often my main concern).
There is also royalty from the world of science like Isaac Newton and Stephen Hawking.
There's one writer, Oscar Wilde.
And, of course, pop star royalty like The Beatles,
ABBA,
and Lady Gaga (with Jimi Hendrix in the background, which says something about our cultural priorities, but I'm not sure what).
There are also superstars of the political world including those who have fought for peace and tolerance
and this incredibly controversial scene of Churchill and Hitler.
There are those who want the image of Hitler removed, largely because people like to photograph themselves next to him with their fists outstretched saying "hail Hitler" (in fact, I watched one Japanese woman do just that) and many find that offensive. But, it remains.
When finished with celebrity and fame, you move to the Chamber of Horrors which has wax creations at the entrance
but which is mostly live actors jumping around corners to scare you. There's no photography allowed in this area, and really, it would be too dark to take any pictures. (There was also a montage of Guy Fawkes being hanged at the entrance, but even with flash, it was too dark to get a good shot.)
After the Chamber of Horrors, there is the Marvel Comics display with characters like the Hulk
and Wolverine, who is clearly now Hugh Jackman with long fingernails.
This section also includes a 4-D movie of Spiderman, Captain America, the Hulk, and Ironman saving London from a giant robot. It's cute.
There's also the Spirit of London, which is a ride in "taxis" through the history of England. It's also hard to photograph because the lighting isn't good and the car keeps moving, but I did manage to snap a shot of William Shakespeare.
The final section of Madame Tussauds is a small display providing the history of Tussaud and the wax museum and an explanation of how the figures are made, demonstrated through the making of Beyonce's wax figure. There is a display of Madame Tussaud and her family
though after hearing how precise the measurements have to be to make a wax figure, I'm not sure how accurate these are. Then again, maybe Madame Tussaud did take her family's details down.
Madame Tussauds didn't take as long as I was expecting (I don't know why I thought it would be almost a half-day event. Maybe because the tickets to get in are so expensive. But, it really only takes an hour and a half, though I'm betting it takes a lot longer when it's crowded.) so I decided to use the rest of my afternoon go see the Imperial War Museum which I've been meaning to visit but never quite get to.
The exterior of the museum is quite pretty (and yes, those are clear skies you're seeing. It's the first time I'd seen the sun in more than a week. If it hadn't been so cold, I would have spent more time outside.)
The museum itself is set around a large atrium. There's actually quite a bit of open space in the museum which makes it great for hanging airplanes.
There is an exhibition on the current war in Afghanistan and Iraq; it's mostly sound and video. You can select the picture of a soldier and he'll talk about things like food, free time, life in a war zone, and life after becoming a civilian again. There is also a section of the museum dedicated to the Secret War which is the story of MI5, MI6 and secret military operations. There are a lot of gadgets on display like bugs
and cipher equipment.
There is also an interactive computer that allows you to read about caught spies and declassified missions, though I'm guessing a lot of the information is still missing from the files that are available to read. Either that, or the British files are incredibly concise.
There is also an exhibit on the Holocaust-- it's very hard to photograph because it's quite dark. I did find this display interesting-- it's near the beginning and shows items related to Judiasim with an explanation of what everything is and what it's used for.
There seems to be a tacit assumption that many who go through the exhibit have no idea what Judaism really is.
The exhibition starts at the time between WWI and WWII and briefly shows the Jews living peacefully and happily before cataloging Hitler's rise, the persecution of the Jews, the development of the ghettos and finally the move to concentration camps. The last room is about the freeing of the prisoners and life after the concentration camps and it's actually possible to move from the rise of Hitler and persecution to this last room, skipping the most disturbing and graphic parts of the tour. I'm guessing those who installed the exhibition thought that some of the scenes of the concentration camps (which do include photos of naked, emaciated prisoners and the death pits) would be too much for some visitor. There is a sign before the entrance saying that material is not suited for those under the age of 14 which I found interesting because I distinctly remember being shown films on the Holocaust when I was in Hebrew school-- and I quit right after my Bat Mitzvah, which means I was seeing those films quite early. And, I remember them as much more graphic (maybe because they were film rather than still photos which brought the horror even more to life) than the exhibition at the Imperial War Museum was. But, maybe it is good to spare kids from those images for longer. I know I wasn't nearly as shocked (or, really even shocked-- really saddened, but not surprised at all) as others who were going through the exhibition. It's interesting to watch the reactions of people who are being shown the realities of the Holocaust for the first time-- I'm so far removed from that first experience that I guess I don't realize that there are people who haven't been exposed (and, surprisingly, a lot of older adults. I was by far the youngest person there).
I didn't really want to end my day in London on that kind of sad note, so from the Imperial War Museum, I headed to Oxford Circus to window shop. Oxford Circus is all lit up for Christmas-- there are light displays all over including an elaborate one of the 12 days of Christmas.
(It's hard to tell, but that's the second day of Christmas with two doves.) There are less traditional displays too, like the ones that surround Carnaby Street.
I didn't want to get back on the coach to Oxford without a snack since it can be a long ride in rush hour, so I stopped of at the Sacred Cafe for tea and scones.
Sacred now wins for the best tea pot I've been served tea in.
And, actually, it's pretty up there for scone quality as well-- there were hot, which is always a bonus.
I wandered around Oxford Circus for a little while longer, window shopping in places like Irregular Choices which has the best weird shoes ever.
I was really tempted to try some on, though I have no idea where I would wear them and I wasn't sure I could even pretend I was actually going to buy a pair. Like with meeting the Royals, I was inappropriately dressed to look like a serious customer for this store. I also walked around Liberty Royal, a fancy department store, admiring the window displays.
And, then headed back to the Underground station, passing the Apple store on the way which is only notable because it's two floors and it was packed. And, because in England, Apple stores look like this:
I was ready to head home, but the Oxford Circus Underground was gated off due to overcrowding which just caused there to be crowding on the sidewalks as those wanting to get on the tube crowded near the stairwell. There are entries to the station on all four corners and all four were a mob scene of irritated commuters. I was about to head off to another tube station (Bond Street) and try to figure out how to maneuver from there when the gates opened again which made life a little easier since Oxford Circus is only two stops from where I needed to be which is really good because as I exited into Victoria Station, there was an announcement that the Circle line was closing and the Victoria line would be delayed "due to a person under a train." Again (this is the second time in two months I've been in London when this has happened.). Maybe this is why the Brits are so nonchalant-- it seems to be a more common occurrence than I would have thought possible. So, rather than be alarmed this time, I pushed my way into the throngs trying to get out of the station and headed to the coach to go back to Oxford.
I'm not sure if this is my last foray into London or not as I have less than a month left on this experience. But, the tube experience almost makes a perfect bookend for my travels to that city...
Sunday, November 25, 2012
You Have to Admire the Brits
No matter what the weather, the Brits are going to celebrate outdoors. No matter how cold or rainy, they are carrying on. In the cold and the rain...
And, this is especially true of Christmas season festivities. Friday night, the traditional Black Friday in the US, was Oxford Christmas Light Night (I'm not sure if they always correspond or if this was coincidental), the day after the city of Oxford turns on its Christmas Lights. The stores stay open late (though there's none of the terrible advertising and ridiculous promotions of the US Black Friday sales), there is a parade, and there are events all over the city including a stage with music and dance acts set in the middle of a fair with rides and food booths. It doesn't matter how cold it is-- Light Night is going on.
My first stop on Light Night was at Oxford Castle where there was a "performance" of kinetic sound and light sculptures--"Chorus" by Ray Lee. I knew from the description that it would be electronic music, but I thought there would be more lights. Instead, there were only small red ones-- they were supposed to mimic fireflies or planets in motion. I definitely didn't get the planets in motion thing (I only learned that was the intent from the website). I guess they could have been like fireflies...
And, this is especially true of Christmas season festivities. Friday night, the traditional Black Friday in the US, was Oxford Christmas Light Night (I'm not sure if they always correspond or if this was coincidental), the day after the city of Oxford turns on its Christmas Lights. The stores stay open late (though there's none of the terrible advertising and ridiculous promotions of the US Black Friday sales), there is a parade, and there are events all over the city including a stage with music and dance acts set in the middle of a fair with rides and food booths. It doesn't matter how cold it is-- Light Night is going on.
My first stop on Light Night was at Oxford Castle where there was a "performance" of kinetic sound and light sculptures--"Chorus" by Ray Lee. I knew from the description that it would be electronic music, but I thought there would be more lights. Instead, there were only small red ones-- they were supposed to mimic fireflies or planets in motion. I definitely didn't get the planets in motion thing (I only learned that was the intent from the website). I guess they could have been like fireflies...
So, the sculptures started out moving really slow. Then, they sped up which changed the frequency of the sound making it seem like different "notes" were playing.
Then, they were were all moving fast, which again made them sound relatively the same-- blending in harmony, I guess.
And then, all the surrounding lights were turned off-- so that all that could be seen were the red lights on the sculptures.
The whole thing took a little more than 20 minutes. Honestly, I kept waiting for something else to happen-- like more lights, maybe. Or for the sound to become a recognizable Christmas song (I was expecting this to be more "Christmas-y" since it was part of Light Night-- but it wasn't.). That didn't happen. However, when I left Oxford Castle to make my way towards the fair, stage and parade, I did pass this guy.
I have no idea why there was a person dressed up as an oversized, unidentified character. Sometimes in Oxford, weird things happen and strangely dressed people appear (though, they are usually university students)-- it's a quirky city when it comes down to it.
Part of Light Night is admiring the lights around Oxford-- most of which are set up on Cornmarket Street and High Street. They're a bit hard to photograph because they are actually "twinkling". And, the coming on and off of different lights to create that effect tends to make the picture blurry. But, I got one that isn't too bad.
On the list of things the Brits will do no matter the weather is attend a fair-- and there are a lot of them. They seem to set up rides and game booths to mark any occasion they can think of (or, at random). I don't quite get the appeal of getting on a ride that spins around really fast in the cold-- it seems like that would only make it colder. I do, however, get the appeal of hot chocolate mixed with Baileys, which was on sale as part of the fair.
I held onto my warm hot chocolate as I watched several acts on the stage. I came up right as the Welsh Male Voice Choir was getting started.
I have no idea why there was a person dressed up as an oversized, unidentified character. Sometimes in Oxford, weird things happen and strangely dressed people appear (though, they are usually university students)-- it's a quirky city when it comes down to it.
Part of Light Night is admiring the lights around Oxford-- most of which are set up on Cornmarket Street and High Street. They're a bit hard to photograph because they are actually "twinkling". And, the coming on and off of different lights to create that effect tends to make the picture blurry. But, I got one that isn't too bad.
On the list of things the Brits will do no matter the weather is attend a fair-- and there are a lot of them. They seem to set up rides and game booths to mark any occasion they can think of (or, at random). I don't quite get the appeal of getting on a ride that spins around really fast in the cold-- it seems like that would only make it colder. I do, however, get the appeal of hot chocolate mixed with Baileys, which was on sale as part of the fair.
I held onto my warm hot chocolate as I watched several acts on the stage. I came up right as the Welsh Male Voice Choir was getting started.
It's a little hard to hear because everyone in the crowd is also talking, but they are singing about Dixie-- again, I have no idea what a song about the American South has to do with Christmas in Oxford, but it added to the quirkiness. And, then it got even more quirky when this guy (I think he's some kind of local celebrity-- and there's a small part of me that thinks he might be the guy who owns the house with the shark coming out of the roof, but I can't be certain).
Again, it's hard to tell it the video-- but he was dressed like Henry VIII (or, someone equally royal and pompous). With him on stage were two professional Rugby players who largely stood off the to the back of the stage and tried not to look too awkward, one of whom the guy singing gave his hat to. His one song was intended to get the crowd moving so we would warm up since, as the host for the evening kept pointing out, it was cold.
The next group up was Out of the Blue, an all male a cappella group who were supposedly on Britain's Got Talent. However, from the conversation the host had with these guys, I think most of the singers who were on Britan's Got Talent graduated a while ago-- I don't think that any of the guys performing on Light Night were actually on TV. They did perform Christmas music near the end, but this medley dedicated to Brittany songs was my "favorite."
The next group up was Out of the Blue, an all male a cappella group who were supposedly on Britain's Got Talent. However, from the conversation the host had with these guys, I think most of the singers who were on Britan's Got Talent graduated a while ago-- I don't think that any of the guys performing on Light Night were actually on TV. They did perform Christmas music near the end, but this medley dedicated to Brittany songs was my "favorite."
Out of the Blue's Christmas medley got interrupted by the arrival of the parade procession, which was something of a debacle. The parade route ran through the crowd at the stage, but no one had mentioned this to the crowd before nor was the route blocked off in any way. So, as the parade approached, there was this grand effort by police and event organizers to move hundreds of people out of the way of the procession. It didn't go well, mostly because those at the edge of the crowd realized they had prime spots to see the parade and then didn't want to give up the good viewing spot so they were moving as little as possible while others tried to push forward to get closer to the action. I would have thought that leaving a clearing for the parade route would be the kind of thing planners would have planned for... but there was quite a bit of jostling and pushing instead. And, all for what was a pretty unimpressive parade.
The Parade of Lights turned out to be a parade of school children (mostly elementary school kids) carrying lit up items-- some simply had makeshift lanterns. Others did have animals created out of tissue paper that the lights could shine through.
It culminated in a very fast explosion of light around this sun statue
which happened so fast, I pretty much missed it. Out of the Blue was supposed to come back post-parade, but I think in all the chaos, the stage performances started to run behind and so Out of the Blue was just gone. And, I was hungry, so I headed off to Wagamama, a very popular chain restaurant which serves sort of fusion Asian food (even though it says it's a Japanese noodle bar).
One dish on the menu is very like Pho and after standing in the cold for a few hours, this seemed like the perfect meal.
I continued the Christmas theme the next day, heading off to Birmingham with a couple of my students for the Frankfurt Christmas Market, the largest German Christmas Market outside of Germany. Birmingham itself seems like a really lovely city
though we didn't get to see too much of it-- we were there primarily for the Christmas market, and though that encompassed a lot of the city (so we did walk much of Birmingham), what we did see was largely blocked by the decorations and market booths. There were Santas of every size, everywhere.
Everything was decorated for Christmas, even the trashcans.
The day started off deceptively nice-- and then became increasingly more dreary, going from drizzle to pouring rain that just didn't stop. We were really expecting it to stop at some point-- it rarely rains for an entire day in England (or, it hasn't very often since we've been here)-- but once it started, a little before noon, the driving rain never stopped. And yet, the market crowd never dissipated. It was crowded all day even though there was nowhere to hide from the rain. This is what amazes me most about the Brits-- I guess in a country where it rains so much, you just have to soldier on through it. But, the Christmas Market goes on for about a month-- this wasn't the only day it was on, so people could have come back. Instead, they stood in the rain eating their bratwurst and drinking their oversized beers (which they were drinking when we arrived at about 10:30 am-- I think I've mentioned this before, but there is no sort of happy hour or "appropriate" hour to start drinking, no "it's 5 o'clock somewhere" to explain away or excuse drinking in the middle of the day. They drink when they feel like it-- with no judgement.). So, my students and I forged ahead too.
At the entry to the Christmas Market was this guy.
It was sort of ventriloquism without the impressive "look--my lips aren't moving" part of the act since the guy manning the dummy is encased in that cart. (The legs you see are his.) It was a lesson in why not to smoke-- the dummy had a really gravelly voice and a heck of a cough. The German Christmas Market itself was very German and very Christmas-y at the same-- like with this Beer Bear.
And this moving Christmas display which was on top of a small pavilion serving beer and mulled wine and bratwurst.
Or this moose, who was enticing visitors to come drink.
Even though it was about 11 am, the enticement was unnecessary. We were even enticed to stop for drinks-- something hot since it was cold (even though it hadn't started raining yet). The choices were hot chocolate with various liqueurs or hot, mulled wine. We all got hot chocolate. It still seemed a bit early to be drinking alcohol (though, I don't know how much was really in the hot chocolate-- a decent amount since I could taste the nutty flavor of the amaretto I got in mine, but not a whole lot, I'm guessing), but we were a lot later than others, like these women
who were all wearing mustaches (I like that the one blonde had a blonde mustache). We passed them several hours later and they still had their mustaches on-- they were committed, though to what I'm not sure. I don't know why they had mustaches in the first place.
There was a wide assortment of food for sale, including lots of sweet treats like unusually flavored donuts
and these marshmallow concoctions.
There were about 15 different flavors-- I bought two as we were leaving at the end of the day to take home for dessert. They pretty quickly collapsed in the bag they were in-- I think it was because it was hard to keep them dry in the paper bag. Also, I thought they were more solid marshmallow, so I didn't realize how easily they could get smushed-- I probably need to be more careful with them as they were more delicate than I realized. But, even smashed, they tasted pretty good--I got one that was Irish Creme and one that was hazelnut and, mixed together (as they were now that they were somewhat smashed and the marshmallow center had become a little liquid) they complimented each other well.
There were also pretzels stuffed with sandwich fillings like ham and cheese or salami.
This is what we had for an early lunch-- there are no soft pretzels in England, or at least I haven't seen any yet (not that I've been missing soft pretzels-- it just occurred to me when I saw these that I hadn't seen a pretzel stand since I've been here), and this variation seemed like a nice twist on a treat from home. However, they weren't hot, or even warm-- they were cold and a little disappointing, even though my filling of Camembert and cranberry was good. The pretzels needed to be hot.
There were large slices of garlic bread
and foods like onion rings, cheese sticks and jalapeno poppers ready to be fried to order. And, of course, there were the expected varieties of sausage-- though some were really long in a way that was almost obscene (look closely-- there are sausages of two different lengths in the picture).
There were also tons of goods for sale-- a lot of it was the expected sort of Christmas craft fair stuff, like wooden instruments shaped like animals
and metal creations like kitchy wine bottle and toilet paper holders
and figures carved from wood. These two struck me as really politically incorrect-- in fact, I'm not even sure you could sell them in the US. It made me wonder if the stall owner knew how offensive these had the potential to be (which does bring up questions of cultural awareness-- this booth was full of characters like this. I'm wondering if it resonated negatively with anyone who wasn't American.).
And, then there were some more unusual items like reindeer hides and rabbit hides.
They weren't made into anything-- it was just the hide for sale (in case you were wondering, reindeer hide is not very soft). I'm not really sure what one is supposed to do with a reindeer hide... but there were a lot of them, so I assume they get used for something.
We did get to see a few of the Birmingham sites. The route of the market (which was really large) took us past the Birmingham Hall of Memory
a small chapel dedicated to the memory of all those who have died or been injured in battle.
And, to get out of the rain for a whle, we went to the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery which is lovely on the inside.
At the end of this room (where it's orange) is the Buddha Gallery-- it's not all statues of Buddha, but it's all Asian statuary dedicated to deities. There is also the Infinity Collection Box made from 8 different kinds of wood, created by Andrew Varah in 2008, which, when looked into at different angles, seems to present endless "hallways." From different angles, there are different numbers of hallways.
That's the same box from two different angles.
The top floor of the museum is an interactive history of Birmingham and its people. It includes mock newscasts from the 1600s explaining why it wanted to remain officially recognized as a town (there would have been higher taxes and guild membership fees if it were considered a city-- apparently Birmingham managed to hide its identity as a manufacturing and industrial city from the royalty for quite a while), a "coffee house" where ballads written hundreds of years ago are performed, and cute displays like this one that demonstrate the different guild trades.
We thought the rain would have ended by the time we were leaving the museum (since much of our experience has taught it never rains constantly for a whole day), but we were wrong. We forged on anyway, going through the rest of the market (which really does stretch through a lot of the city) before arriving at the canal
where we went into a small boat turned restaurant for tea (because, if you're not just going to continue to hang out outside, tea is what you do in England when it's cold and rainy).
We sat in the boat for a while, again convinced that it was going to stop raining but after about an hour it still hadn't stopped, so we forged back out into the downpour to return to the German Market for dinner-- I was quite insistent that if I had traveled two hours by coach for a German Christmas Market, I was having a bratwurst at some point. (I didn't brave the white sausage-- it looked disturbingly uncooked. You can sort of see it in the middle of the picture.)
We did find a small "room" off to the side of this stand to eat in, so we didn't have to actually eat our dinner (or, really, late lunch since I think it was only 4:30-- it's easy to lose track of time and think it's later since it's pretty dark by 4 now) in the pouring rain (I'm sure that was very American of us-- not wanting to stand in the rain and eat as everyone else was doing. There were others in the small room as well-- but not many of seemed to be British. It was mostly visitors. Near us was a Russian woman who had relocated to California with her kids. So, those who weren't braving the weather during meals were clearly not native.)
The Christmas market area was really pretty in the dark (and you can't even tell how hard it was raining from the pictures!)
but even though it was really lovely, we were about done with the rain (even though more and more people were showing up for dinner and drinking in the rain-- the market is open until 10pm daily), so we headed back towards the coach station, stopping of in Selfridges to kill about 30 minutes of free time looking at expensive designer clothing (and, where I considered buying incredibly expensive flannel pjs just to have something warm and dry to wear on the bus). We'd passed by this building earlier in the day (this isn't my photo--as you can tell from the delightful sun in it)
and never knew what it was, but it turned out it was Selfridges, which is why the store, from the inside, seemed oddly shaped. And, then, we headed back out into the rain again to catch the coach back to Oxford, where it actually stopped raining just long enough to get home.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Catching up on the Mundanities...
I've devoted quite a bit of blog space to traveling and one day excursions to palaces-- but I realized it's been a while since I wrote about the "everyday" part of living in Oxford (maybe because there aren't too many pictures of it to jog my memory. This also means that this post has almost no photos.). But that is a part of this whole thing that I want to remember as well, so as there is a rather frightening kind of wind storm happening right now (which I am eventually going to have to brave), it seemed like a good time to catch up on the mundane.
Yoga:
I did finally make it to a yoga class. But, it wasn't yoga-- at least not like I'm used to it. It should have been called something like fitness stretching because other than the fact that the instructor said "namaste" at the end and we were all on yoga mats, it wasn't like any yoga I'm accustomed to.
For starters, the room was really bright-- all the florescent lights were on. This might have been a function of the room itself-- it's really an all-purpose exercise room, and all the other classes probably need bright lighting and I'm not sure there was a way to really control the light level other than to turn them all off. But, while the lighting couldn't be helped, the music could-- it was loud. And, it was fast pop songs ranging from Bruno Mars to Lady Antebellum (and, maybe some British top-40. There was some music I didn't recognize.) Needless to say, there was no cleansing breath and no centering or calming. It's hard to center when Bruno Mars is declaring that he'd catch a grenade for ya. (Not that I don't love that I song; I do. I'm just saying that yoga and violent images of gallant death don't really mix.) And, the instructor mocked those in the class who weren't following her cues correctly (like those who started with their left feet instead of their right). It wasn't mean-- but it wasn't the sort of nurturing, accepting brand of yoga I'm used to. (Thankfully, I was spared being pointed out. Maybe that was to make up for the fact that I was front and center in the room-- really just a few feet from the instructor which was its own novice move that was cause for embarrassment. It wasn't my intent to be right on top of where the instructor was; I thought I had sort of placed my mat in the middle of the room, off to the side. Turns out what I thought was the side of the room was really the front. And the room was packed, so I couldn't move.)
There was one sun salutation, but only one, as a warm-up. And, there was a lot of good stretching-- I really did feel better when the class was over, especially since the yoga class was on the day after my first real tennis lesson. It helped with the stiffness from that. And, there was one random moment of working on balance-- we did do a tree pose (with a little mockery of those who couldn't hold it for a long period of time...).
I don't quite know why I left disappointed-- I think because I was expecting yoga and while it was really good stretching that made me feel better, it wasn't yoga. (It also had no real social potential-- it was mostly students and, since there's only one exercise studio in the gym and classes are pretty constantly scheduled, there's no chance to hang around after and chat. We all had to pack up and go quickly to make room for the next class. (I even felt guilty taking the time to put my shoes back on before I left.) I probably should have gone back since I do know the stretching is good for me (and, part of why I do yoga is because I'm really bad about stretching on my own. I don't stretch unless someone makes me-- and that almost never happens.) and it's not that I've intentionally avoided it. But, there are only two classes a week and they are scheduled at rather inconvenient times (dinner time on Mondays and mid-afternoon on Fridays), though I could probably plan for if I had loved it. But I didn't-- so I haven't had the kind of aching need to go back that would make me rearrange my schedule.
Real Tennis:
I had two more real tennis lessons for a total of three. I probably would have taken more lessons but Andrew, the coach in charge of running the Real Tennis Courts at Merton (and who I had my two lessons with after my initial one with Craig), made the mistake of initially quoting me the student rate (instead of the adult rate) for lessons in his email. I got away with three lessons as this rate since I had signed up for them, but that I am not a student seemed to really be problematic (there was some muttering about needing to be consistent about these things) so I wasn't offered more lessons after my third (especially since I had made it pretty clear that I can't afford the adult rate-- I don't know who can on a regular basis. It's significantly more, like more than twice the student rate. I'm now wondering what the average salary in Oxford is.). But, the remaining two lessons were fun.
Since I seemed to have the basic technique down (though, not consistently), Andrew and I spent a portion of my lessons practicing taking the ball off the bounce off the wall (which is really the hard part for me) and playing out actual games. I'm actually ok at taking the ball off the wall bounce when I'm being slowly fed the balls and have time. It's when there's an actual rally and the balls are coming at me faster that I'm not so great. I think there's two reasons for this: one is that when the balls were being fed to me, there was a sort of logic to what it was going to do after it hit the wall, especially since it was moving rather slowly, while during a rally that kind of predictability is out the window (at least for me-- I think that as you play more, this starts to make more sense. It must.) and the ball is moving faster so there's less time to prepare for it (I was often too close to the ball in rallies). Two, while my technique was pretty good when the ball was being fed slowly and I had time to think about, in a faster-paced rally, my muscle memory tended to revert back to a tennis swing which is all wrong for real tennis. For example, there's no follow-through in real tennis; while follow-through is really important in regular tennis, following through in real tennis tends to send the ball sideways and into the ground. This is partially because, unlike in regular tennis where the swing generally tends to go from low-to-high, in real tennis, the swing is more high-to-low, or at least high-to-straight in front. The real lesson of real tennis, for me, is that I have a clear muscle memory of how to hit a regular tennis ball that I don't have to think about which is kind of reassuring for my tennis game, but means three lessons wasn't enough time for me learn to think fast enough about the difference to hit a real tennis ball correctly during a rally.
That said, I think I won a total of three games over the two lessons with Andrew (a marked improvement from having not even won a point during my lesson with Craig). That's partially because my serve does translate pretty well to real tennis- and, there's the added advantage of having a larger "box" to serve into in real tennis, so I don't even have to aim as much as I do in regular tennis (which the Brits would call lawn tennis, but I can't really say that since it's not like I ever play tennis on a lawn surface). So, I could win a few free points off my serve. This only helps to a certain extent though since serving in real tennis is not the same as serving in regular tennis. You don't switch every couple games-- or even at the end of a game. In fact, you would never switch serve at the end of a game; you can only change sides (and, you can only serve from one side, the dedane side) when one player reaches 40 in the scoring AND there's a chase (meaning at some point the ball bounced twice on the server's side, which in real tennis does not result in a point but a different sort of playing out of the point which is hard to explain but basically you note where the ball bounced the second time and then to win the point, the former server-- now receiving because at 40-something, players switched sides to play out the chase-- has to get the ball to bounce closer to the back wall on a second bounce than the ball did the first time) or there are two chases (the second one causes an immediate side change-- and then both are played out in the same way. It becomes a lot to keep track of. In fact, I'm pretty sure there is a limited amount of time my brain is going to be able to remember how to keep score before I can no longer even begin to explain it.). I am particularly bad at winning a chase point-- I think that's a serious hindrance to my real tennis future. That and the fact that in the US there is no real tennis court closer than six hours away from me-- doesn't give me much chance to continue to practice (which made paying the incredibly expensive adult rates to continue lessons seem even less worth it). But, as soon as ESPN starts covering real tennis, I'm sure there will be more courts.
Quiz Night:
I have finally made it to one pub quiz night; this is exciting on two fronts. One, I got to find out what a pub quiz night is and two it marked a rare social outing with people other than my students or those friends and family who have come to visit me.
I went to quiz night at a local pub in Headington, my neighborhood, called the White Hart. It's located back off the main road and is rather a locals kind-of place which nicely means there generally aren't students there (as opposed to the pubs on the main road which are often quite crowded with students). It looks like one would expect British pub to look rustic with low ceilings and kitchy stuff on the walls.
I was expecting something like the trivia boxes found in a lot of American bars, those associated with trivia questions that pop up on a screen and which are really being broadcast all over the US. But, there is nothing electronic involved at all with a British quiz night (except a copier or printer, I presume). In this pub, the quiz has two parts. For the first part, all the teams (this is largely played in teams) is given a sheet of paper with 20 celebrity photos on it. Teams have to identify who the celebrities are. This night, the theme was apparently people and bands who have the #1 hit in Britain each year for the last 20 years. I recognized all of them except some British boy band who is not One Direction (though, I don't really know what they look like either. I just know the name) and whose name I have since forgotten. This is the easy part of the quiz. The next part is 50-something trivia questions which often center around British culture, sport and politics. The first letter of each answer also creates words themselves-- in this case, they were spelling out movies Leonardo DiCaprio has been in. I got all the movies-- so we had the first letter for every answer whether we knew it or not. Unfortunately, that's only a helpful hint. There was no credit given for being able to list movies starring Leonardo.
I was very helpful the few times the questions were actually about American culture, but that was rare (the two I got were about American TV shows. I don't know what that says about me-- though, to be fair, they didn't really ask other questions about the US. Except that capitol of Florida-- which I let everyone convince me was Tampa instead of Tallahassee. There was wine involved in quiz night. Probably not so good for quickly remembering trivia, but it made me really happy since I miss Wednesday Wine with my friends from work back in North Carolina. They have been able to Skype me a couple times, so I've sat in my flat drinking wine while they sit in our favorite wine shop and pass the iPad around so I can see them all. It's lovely and fun, though not quite the same thing.). I was very unhelpful when it came to questions about football (here, read soccer-- I would have been very good at NFL football questions) and its players. That was actually ok because no one on my team knew anything about soccer either. Also, no one could remember who the newly names Archbishop of Canterbury is even though it was a big deal here. I had actually intentionally followed it because I know that the church was having trouble getting anyone to take the job-- it's kind of a political hotbed position-- and then I couldn't remember his name. And then, we missed various questions about British soap opera stars and boy bands which meant we sort of came in middle-of-the-pack after the sheets were collected from each team and tallied but which I found reassuring-- between the love of wine and a mutual disinterest in British soaps and boy bands, I was thinking I had met people I could actually be friends with.
My way home marked one last first for me-- quiz night is on Tuesdays which is the night I teach my one class and so I had really had a snack before I headed to the pub. As we were leaving, I realized I was starving. Despite the fact that it was about 11 o'clock at night, I had to get something to eat-- and what you get to eat in Oxford late at night (though, 11 isn't really "late" at night in Oxford since clubs are often open until 3 am) is a kebab. There are kebab trucks all over Oxford-- they come out a little after dinner time and stay on the streets until about 4 am serving all the hungry, drunk people leaving the pubs and clubs. Getting a kebab is the English equivalent of getting greasy pizza at 2 am in the States. There are many competing trucks in the City Centre-- but there is one in Headington. Since I'm not one to eat really late at night, I hadn't been to a kebab truck yet-- but it suddenly seemed like a good idea (I certainly wasn't going to be able to go sleep as hungry as I was). I showed quite a bit of restraint and just got the chicken kebab with chili sauce (there are a variety of sauce choices. Sauces in the UK still confuse me-- there are always a lot of options for sauces, but I don't know what a lot of the names for them mean in terms of taste.). I did not get the chips (or, the cheesy chips which given how hungry I was sounded really good).
Kebabs from the trucks don't come on sticks (which I prefer since the stick really just gets in the way) -- rather they come served over "salad" (in this case lettuce and onion, so at least salad meant some kind o
Yoga:
I did finally make it to a yoga class. But, it wasn't yoga-- at least not like I'm used to it. It should have been called something like fitness stretching because other than the fact that the instructor said "namaste" at the end and we were all on yoga mats, it wasn't like any yoga I'm accustomed to.
For starters, the room was really bright-- all the florescent lights were on. This might have been a function of the room itself-- it's really an all-purpose exercise room, and all the other classes probably need bright lighting and I'm not sure there was a way to really control the light level other than to turn them all off. But, while the lighting couldn't be helped, the music could-- it was loud. And, it was fast pop songs ranging from Bruno Mars to Lady Antebellum (and, maybe some British top-40. There was some music I didn't recognize.) Needless to say, there was no cleansing breath and no centering or calming. It's hard to center when Bruno Mars is declaring that he'd catch a grenade for ya. (Not that I don't love that I song; I do. I'm just saying that yoga and violent images of gallant death don't really mix.) And, the instructor mocked those in the class who weren't following her cues correctly (like those who started with their left feet instead of their right). It wasn't mean-- but it wasn't the sort of nurturing, accepting brand of yoga I'm used to. (Thankfully, I was spared being pointed out. Maybe that was to make up for the fact that I was front and center in the room-- really just a few feet from the instructor which was its own novice move that was cause for embarrassment. It wasn't my intent to be right on top of where the instructor was; I thought I had sort of placed my mat in the middle of the room, off to the side. Turns out what I thought was the side of the room was really the front. And the room was packed, so I couldn't move.)
There was one sun salutation, but only one, as a warm-up. And, there was a lot of good stretching-- I really did feel better when the class was over, especially since the yoga class was on the day after my first real tennis lesson. It helped with the stiffness from that. And, there was one random moment of working on balance-- we did do a tree pose (with a little mockery of those who couldn't hold it for a long period of time...).
I don't quite know why I left disappointed-- I think because I was expecting yoga and while it was really good stretching that made me feel better, it wasn't yoga. (It also had no real social potential-- it was mostly students and, since there's only one exercise studio in the gym and classes are pretty constantly scheduled, there's no chance to hang around after and chat. We all had to pack up and go quickly to make room for the next class. (I even felt guilty taking the time to put my shoes back on before I left.) I probably should have gone back since I do know the stretching is good for me (and, part of why I do yoga is because I'm really bad about stretching on my own. I don't stretch unless someone makes me-- and that almost never happens.) and it's not that I've intentionally avoided it. But, there are only two classes a week and they are scheduled at rather inconvenient times (dinner time on Mondays and mid-afternoon on Fridays), though I could probably plan for if I had loved it. But I didn't-- so I haven't had the kind of aching need to go back that would make me rearrange my schedule.
Real Tennis:
I had two more real tennis lessons for a total of three. I probably would have taken more lessons but Andrew, the coach in charge of running the Real Tennis Courts at Merton (and who I had my two lessons with after my initial one with Craig), made the mistake of initially quoting me the student rate (instead of the adult rate) for lessons in his email. I got away with three lessons as this rate since I had signed up for them, but that I am not a student seemed to really be problematic (there was some muttering about needing to be consistent about these things) so I wasn't offered more lessons after my third (especially since I had made it pretty clear that I can't afford the adult rate-- I don't know who can on a regular basis. It's significantly more, like more than twice the student rate. I'm now wondering what the average salary in Oxford is.). But, the remaining two lessons were fun.
Since I seemed to have the basic technique down (though, not consistently), Andrew and I spent a portion of my lessons practicing taking the ball off the bounce off the wall (which is really the hard part for me) and playing out actual games. I'm actually ok at taking the ball off the wall bounce when I'm being slowly fed the balls and have time. It's when there's an actual rally and the balls are coming at me faster that I'm not so great. I think there's two reasons for this: one is that when the balls were being fed to me, there was a sort of logic to what it was going to do after it hit the wall, especially since it was moving rather slowly, while during a rally that kind of predictability is out the window (at least for me-- I think that as you play more, this starts to make more sense. It must.) and the ball is moving faster so there's less time to prepare for it (I was often too close to the ball in rallies). Two, while my technique was pretty good when the ball was being fed slowly and I had time to think about, in a faster-paced rally, my muscle memory tended to revert back to a tennis swing which is all wrong for real tennis. For example, there's no follow-through in real tennis; while follow-through is really important in regular tennis, following through in real tennis tends to send the ball sideways and into the ground. This is partially because, unlike in regular tennis where the swing generally tends to go from low-to-high, in real tennis, the swing is more high-to-low, or at least high-to-straight in front. The real lesson of real tennis, for me, is that I have a clear muscle memory of how to hit a regular tennis ball that I don't have to think about which is kind of reassuring for my tennis game, but means three lessons wasn't enough time for me learn to think fast enough about the difference to hit a real tennis ball correctly during a rally.
That said, I think I won a total of three games over the two lessons with Andrew (a marked improvement from having not even won a point during my lesson with Craig). That's partially because my serve does translate pretty well to real tennis- and, there's the added advantage of having a larger "box" to serve into in real tennis, so I don't even have to aim as much as I do in regular tennis (which the Brits would call lawn tennis, but I can't really say that since it's not like I ever play tennis on a lawn surface). So, I could win a few free points off my serve. This only helps to a certain extent though since serving in real tennis is not the same as serving in regular tennis. You don't switch every couple games-- or even at the end of a game. In fact, you would never switch serve at the end of a game; you can only change sides (and, you can only serve from one side, the dedane side) when one player reaches 40 in the scoring AND there's a chase (meaning at some point the ball bounced twice on the server's side, which in real tennis does not result in a point but a different sort of playing out of the point which is hard to explain but basically you note where the ball bounced the second time and then to win the point, the former server-- now receiving because at 40-something, players switched sides to play out the chase-- has to get the ball to bounce closer to the back wall on a second bounce than the ball did the first time) or there are two chases (the second one causes an immediate side change-- and then both are played out in the same way. It becomes a lot to keep track of. In fact, I'm pretty sure there is a limited amount of time my brain is going to be able to remember how to keep score before I can no longer even begin to explain it.). I am particularly bad at winning a chase point-- I think that's a serious hindrance to my real tennis future. That and the fact that in the US there is no real tennis court closer than six hours away from me-- doesn't give me much chance to continue to practice (which made paying the incredibly expensive adult rates to continue lessons seem even less worth it). But, as soon as ESPN starts covering real tennis, I'm sure there will be more courts.
Quiz Night:
I have finally made it to one pub quiz night; this is exciting on two fronts. One, I got to find out what a pub quiz night is and two it marked a rare social outing with people other than my students or those friends and family who have come to visit me.
I went to quiz night at a local pub in Headington, my neighborhood, called the White Hart. It's located back off the main road and is rather a locals kind-of place which nicely means there generally aren't students there (as opposed to the pubs on the main road which are often quite crowded with students). It looks like one would expect British pub to look rustic with low ceilings and kitchy stuff on the walls.
I was expecting something like the trivia boxes found in a lot of American bars, those associated with trivia questions that pop up on a screen and which are really being broadcast all over the US. But, there is nothing electronic involved at all with a British quiz night (except a copier or printer, I presume). In this pub, the quiz has two parts. For the first part, all the teams (this is largely played in teams) is given a sheet of paper with 20 celebrity photos on it. Teams have to identify who the celebrities are. This night, the theme was apparently people and bands who have the #1 hit in Britain each year for the last 20 years. I recognized all of them except some British boy band who is not One Direction (though, I don't really know what they look like either. I just know the name) and whose name I have since forgotten. This is the easy part of the quiz. The next part is 50-something trivia questions which often center around British culture, sport and politics. The first letter of each answer also creates words themselves-- in this case, they were spelling out movies Leonardo DiCaprio has been in. I got all the movies-- so we had the first letter for every answer whether we knew it or not. Unfortunately, that's only a helpful hint. There was no credit given for being able to list movies starring Leonardo.
I was very helpful the few times the questions were actually about American culture, but that was rare (the two I got were about American TV shows. I don't know what that says about me-- though, to be fair, they didn't really ask other questions about the US. Except that capitol of Florida-- which I let everyone convince me was Tampa instead of Tallahassee. There was wine involved in quiz night. Probably not so good for quickly remembering trivia, but it made me really happy since I miss Wednesday Wine with my friends from work back in North Carolina. They have been able to Skype me a couple times, so I've sat in my flat drinking wine while they sit in our favorite wine shop and pass the iPad around so I can see them all. It's lovely and fun, though not quite the same thing.). I was very unhelpful when it came to questions about football (here, read soccer-- I would have been very good at NFL football questions) and its players. That was actually ok because no one on my team knew anything about soccer either. Also, no one could remember who the newly names Archbishop of Canterbury is even though it was a big deal here. I had actually intentionally followed it because I know that the church was having trouble getting anyone to take the job-- it's kind of a political hotbed position-- and then I couldn't remember his name. And then, we missed various questions about British soap opera stars and boy bands which meant we sort of came in middle-of-the-pack after the sheets were collected from each team and tallied but which I found reassuring-- between the love of wine and a mutual disinterest in British soaps and boy bands, I was thinking I had met people I could actually be friends with.
My way home marked one last first for me-- quiz night is on Tuesdays which is the night I teach my one class and so I had really had a snack before I headed to the pub. As we were leaving, I realized I was starving. Despite the fact that it was about 11 o'clock at night, I had to get something to eat-- and what you get to eat in Oxford late at night (though, 11 isn't really "late" at night in Oxford since clubs are often open until 3 am) is a kebab. There are kebab trucks all over Oxford-- they come out a little after dinner time and stay on the streets until about 4 am serving all the hungry, drunk people leaving the pubs and clubs. Getting a kebab is the English equivalent of getting greasy pizza at 2 am in the States. There are many competing trucks in the City Centre-- but there is one in Headington. Since I'm not one to eat really late at night, I hadn't been to a kebab truck yet-- but it suddenly seemed like a good idea (I certainly wasn't going to be able to go sleep as hungry as I was). I showed quite a bit of restraint and just got the chicken kebab with chili sauce (there are a variety of sauce choices. Sauces in the UK still confuse me-- there are always a lot of options for sauces, but I don't know what a lot of the names for them mean in terms of taste.). I did not get the chips (or, the cheesy chips which given how hungry I was sounded really good).
Sunday, November 18, 2012
I Love a Good Palace
I had every intention of spending my Saturday at the Victoria and Albert Museum. It's huge-- one of those museums that you can't even realistically do in a day-- and supposedly amazing so it seemed worth a day trip to London. And, it is. But, it's also amazingly overwhelming. And, on the day I went, very crowded. This may have been because of the special exhibitions that are on-- one of Ballgowns: British Glamour Since 1950 and one of Hollywood Costumes. (There is a third exhibition of photography called Light From the Middle East, but it didn't seem to be creating the same draw or buzz.)
If you enter the Victoria and Albert through the tunnel that leads to it from the South Kensington tube station, you enter into the Sculpture Hall-- with a ton of sculptures. This was my favorite
but that might also be due to the accompanying plaque describing the sculpted man, Joshua Ward.
We should have more monuments to "celebrated quacks." In fact, we should celebrate more quacks. (This is actually a good argument for there to be lots of statues of Sarah Palin.)
To the right of the statue gallery is the fashion exhibit which I think I walked backwards (I followed people in...so I wasn't the only one.) since I saw it from most recent to oldest in the collection. What you do get, no matter which way you walk it, is that people used to be a lot smaller-- especially in height-- if the clothing is any indication. Some of it really was spectacular, like this Court Mantua from about 1755
and this "Hat Henry" from about 1909.
I also learned that dolls were quite creepy in the 1700s. This is an English doll.
The dolls got a little less creepy in the 1800s-- the larger item in the picture is a Princess line evening gown from 1878 (see what I mean about how small people had to have been), but in front of it is a Vivienne "fashion" doll from 1865. Dolls were less creepy as the years went on, but Vivienne is still strange, even if she's fashionable.
There was also a 1920s tennis dress on display, with wooden racquet.
In this section is also the entrance to the Ballgown exhibit-- for which tickets were required, so I went off in search of where I could get one. This is where my plan for the day started to go awry.
It made sense that tickets were needed to control entry times and crowd. What I didn't realize was how much they would cost-- the Victoria and Albert Museum is free (though, donations are asked for at every turn) but these special exhibitions are not. In fact, they are quite pricey-- the Hollywood Costumes exhibit is around 16 pounds and the ballgown exhibit is only slightly cheaper. Since the Ballgowns are located in the center of the fashion exhibit I had just toured (the fashions form a sort of outer circle around the Ballgowns), I knew it wasn't very big. I don't think it could have taken more than 30 minutes to see-- and that's if you were touring slowly and reading all the informational signs. It seemed like a lot to spend, which was disappointing because I, like everyone else (seemingly everyone in all of England-- the museum was insanely crowded), had come, at least in part, for the exhibitions (though, everyone else probably researched this better than I did. I should have explored past the front webpage announcing them.). But, I decided if I was going to spend money for an exhibition, it should be one in a palace (and perhaps a less crowded venue). I do love a palace-- and England is a good place to be if you are a palace-lover. So, after lunch in the Victoria and Albert Museum Cafe (also incredibly packed with people), I headed out to Kensington Palace (so, no, I didn't get past the first floor of the V&A. There is quite a bit I didn't see-- and probably won't.).
Kensington Palace is located in Kensington Park which is attached to Hyde Park (I don't actually know where one ends and the other begins). Together, the two parks form a very large space, most of which I wound up walking. But, I started with Kensington Palace, home to several kings and queens as well as the chosen home (if the sign with the photo can be believed) of William and Kate.
Sadly, this is as close as I got to seeing the royal couple. Or any royalty, even though I overheard one of the docents talking about how there are a couple dukes who walk their dogs in Kensington Park, without guards around. (Then again, I'm not sure if I would recognize a random duke who was walking his dog without security around... so maybe I did see one.)
Kensington Palace has been the home to royalty since the 1600s. Notable royals (notable because there are exhibits dedicated to them) include Queen Victoria and Prince Albert (continuing the theme of the day), Queen Mary II and King William, and King George II and Queen Caroline. The royal line continues to confuse me-- though I've now been to many palaces which tell the history of royalty in England (and have cataloged a lot of it in previous blogs), I still have a hard time figuring out how they are connected and in what order they came. The connection, at least, is actually confusing, as I found out as part of my tour of Kensington Palace. So, really what I've learned from touring palaces and castles is that my confusion is justified, but only because I'm not British. (The Brits all seem to have a solid grasp on the royal lineage and succession.)
From outside, Kensington Palace is probably the most indecorated palace I've been to. The gates themselves are smaller than most palace gates (and, don't really serve more than a decorative function since you can walk around them).
And, the palace "front" (where you enter to get tickets and tour), is fairly plain, though quite impressively large.
The Kensington Palace tour is divided into three wings-- Victoria Revealed, about Queen Victoria and Prince Albert; The Queen's State Apartments, about Queen Mary II and Queen Anne; and the King's State Apartments, about King George II (and Queen Caroline, a little). (Further adding to my confusion about when they all ruled is the fact that I went backwards in time as I toured-- so Victoria ruled in the 1800s, George in the 1700s, Anne in the earlier 1700s, and Mary near the end of the 1600s.)
Victoria Revealed is told largely through quotes from Victoria's diary. It's staged in the room where she was thought to be born and on the floor where it is known she lived as a child. Much of it is hard to photograph, however, because, like many palaces, it's not well lit and there's no flash allowed. There were exhibits of her clothes as well as the wedding attire from her marriage to Prince Albert.
What is really highlighted is how sad she was after Albert died. There is a display with the mourning clothes worn by her and the children after his death and an emphasis on how she wore black for the rest of her life and retreated from society after his death. While there were informational plaques saying she was quite pretty as a young woman, most of the pictures of here were from after Albert's death, when mourning clearly took a toll on her. The great difference in her before and after Albert's death is a real focus-- and comes to light in a lot of her quotes.
The King's State Apartments is a walk through the Presence Chamber and other receiving rooms. The staircase is something of a tribute to all the courtiers.
The glass boxes along the railing contain small replicas of different court workers, like the chocolate maker or clergy. They didn't photograph well individually though. There is also a mural with a picture of all the actual court member-types
which is explained in a graphic at the top of the staircase.
The first room of the King's State Apartments is the Presence Chamber with George II's throne (which I'm assuming has seen better days-- it's a little worn)
where those seeking an audience with the King would first have to ask. However, those who really wanted the King's ear had to be allowed to advance farther into the apartment. How far you could go depended on status. So, if you were lucky, you could get into the Cupola Room, the scene for nights of dancing and music.
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Or, if you were a really lucky courtier, you could get all the way into the King's drawing room (which was pretty dark-- so not photographed). What surprised me about both these rooms is that there was almost no furniture, despite the description of the Drawing Room as the place where people engaged in activities like playing cards. It was forbidden to sit in the presence of the King, so I guess there was no need for furniture. They must have played cards standing up. It was also quite crowded in these rooms-- they weren't terribly big but the docent told me that there could sometimes be as many as 300 people in them. There wouldn't have been any room for furniture (or dancing, really...), especially since women wore dresses like this.
The dresses themselves had to create space issues. And, the King's robes had a really long train (which you can sort of see trailing off behind). I wonder if there was a penalty for stepping on it?
The last wing of the Kensington Palace tour is the Queen's State Apartments which includes the "closet" where voices whisper about the 1710 fight between Queen Anne and her friend Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough while bird cages and tea cups move mysteriously. (I'm not sure how well you can hear the whispering-- people kept noisily walking through while I was trying to record it. It's the hissing noise in the background.)
Following the fight, the Duchess was stripped of her duties and the two women never spoke again.
There is also the dining room.
It's quite small-- but it's where she ate because she and her husband didn't like dining in public (in fact, many monarchs seemed to hate this tradition, which makes me wonder why it continued. It seems like the kind of thing that lots of more private monarchs could have simply abolished.)
And, finally, the Queen's bedroom, where the heir to James II was born (Mary II died next door to this room).
However, James II's heir was raised Catholic, which was a source of great concern for the Brits, as explained in the plaque.
In fact, that James' heir was Catholic caused people to spread rumors that Mary of Modena's actually baby died and this "imposter" baby had been smuggled in, producing an illegitimate heir. The people were so afraid of a Catholic monarch, that after Queen Anne died with no successor (Anne had 17 children, only of one of whom survived, and he died at 11. I'm pretty sure the numerous baby chairs in the dining room pictures are memorials to them all.), more than 50 people in line for the throne were passed over, according to the new laws of succession, to find a Protestant king. The docent who explained the chart below to me (he actually did the research to create it) is the person who gives credence to my confusion, especially since this chart doesn't include the children of the people in this line (since the children wouldn't have claim until the parents' deaths), which means that there really were more than 80 people who actually had claim to the throne before George I, who inherited it.
In the bedroom, there is a display created by College of Wimbledon art students-- there's a box representing each of the 50+ people from the chart who had claim to the throne.
They were really quite remarkable, though hard to photograph in the dim room.
After touring the palace exhibits themselves (which confirmed that I do think that a palace is a better expenditure of 15 pounds than a small exhibit of ballgowns, even though I'm sure they were exquisite), I wound up walking most of Kensington and Hyde Parks.
I walked through the Sunken Gardens, which are a part of Kensington Palace, and provide a much more aesthetic photo point for the palace than taking shots of it from out front do.
And, past the statue of Queen Victoria
which is impressive until you get to the memorial she had built to Prince Albert which is hard to get in its entirety, even from far away. It took 10 years to build.
The pictures don't really do the glittering gold justice.
The statue friezes around it are allegorical-- there are 8 of them, four representing Victorian arts (poetry, painting, architecture, and sculpture) and four representing four continents (Asia, Africa, America, and Europe). This is Asia (I like the expression on the camel.).
From the Prince Albert Memorial, I set off to find the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, for which the signs are not particularly good, so this was a bit of a winding path around Kensington Gardens. The memorial is to the side of the Serpentine, just past the bridge.
The fountain itself is a large "circle" (and a guarded site-- the man in the yellow jacket in the middle is security. He's also helpful at giving directions and later pointed me in the direction of the Hyde Park Corner tube station.)
where water runs downhill from two directions to form a pool.
As you can tell from the pictures, it was starting to get dark (it's pretty much totally dark by 4:45 now), so I decided to head back to find the coach back to Oxford (which was a long walk through most of Hyde park to get to the tube. It's one of the few times when something actually looked closer on the map that it really is. Usually, I find things are much closer than they appear on maps.). On the way, I passed the carnival rides which are being set up in Hyde Park (though, I didn't take a picture because they're half built so it's really a lot of mud and cranes and pretty unattractive) for Christmas. (This also increased the length of may walk to the tube station since the fastest path would have been through where the carnival was being set up-- but I had to go around.) Again, I marvel at the Brits dedication to being outdoors no matter the weather-- only they would think outdoor rides that only increase the wind velocity and cold are a good idea in late November and December.f ingredient I usually associate with the word; there would have been tomato too, but I don't like tomato so I asked not to have it.) and pita. And, they taste much better than the picture makes it look here (I'm feeling light on pictures or I probably wouldn't have included one.). In fact, surprisingly yummy for cheap food from a truck. I totally get why they are a popular staple here.
If you enter the Victoria and Albert through the tunnel that leads to it from the South Kensington tube station, you enter into the Sculpture Hall-- with a ton of sculptures. This was my favorite
but that might also be due to the accompanying plaque describing the sculpted man, Joshua Ward.
We should have more monuments to "celebrated quacks." In fact, we should celebrate more quacks. (This is actually a good argument for there to be lots of statues of Sarah Palin.)
To the right of the statue gallery is the fashion exhibit which I think I walked backwards (I followed people in...so I wasn't the only one.) since I saw it from most recent to oldest in the collection. What you do get, no matter which way you walk it, is that people used to be a lot smaller-- especially in height-- if the clothing is any indication. Some of it really was spectacular, like this Court Mantua from about 1755
and this "Hat Henry" from about 1909.
I also learned that dolls were quite creepy in the 1700s. This is an English doll.
The dolls got a little less creepy in the 1800s-- the larger item in the picture is a Princess line evening gown from 1878 (see what I mean about how small people had to have been), but in front of it is a Vivienne "fashion" doll from 1865. Dolls were less creepy as the years went on, but Vivienne is still strange, even if she's fashionable.
There was also a 1920s tennis dress on display, with wooden racquet.
In this section is also the entrance to the Ballgown exhibit-- for which tickets were required, so I went off in search of where I could get one. This is where my plan for the day started to go awry.
It made sense that tickets were needed to control entry times and crowd. What I didn't realize was how much they would cost-- the Victoria and Albert Museum is free (though, donations are asked for at every turn) but these special exhibitions are not. In fact, they are quite pricey-- the Hollywood Costumes exhibit is around 16 pounds and the ballgown exhibit is only slightly cheaper. Since the Ballgowns are located in the center of the fashion exhibit I had just toured (the fashions form a sort of outer circle around the Ballgowns), I knew it wasn't very big. I don't think it could have taken more than 30 minutes to see-- and that's if you were touring slowly and reading all the informational signs. It seemed like a lot to spend, which was disappointing because I, like everyone else (seemingly everyone in all of England-- the museum was insanely crowded), had come, at least in part, for the exhibitions (though, everyone else probably researched this better than I did. I should have explored past the front webpage announcing them.). But, I decided if I was going to spend money for an exhibition, it should be one in a palace (and perhaps a less crowded venue). I do love a palace-- and England is a good place to be if you are a palace-lover. So, after lunch in the Victoria and Albert Museum Cafe (also incredibly packed with people), I headed out to Kensington Palace (so, no, I didn't get past the first floor of the V&A. There is quite a bit I didn't see-- and probably won't.).
Kensington Palace is located in Kensington Park which is attached to Hyde Park (I don't actually know where one ends and the other begins). Together, the two parks form a very large space, most of which I wound up walking. But, I started with Kensington Palace, home to several kings and queens as well as the chosen home (if the sign with the photo can be believed) of William and Kate.
Sadly, this is as close as I got to seeing the royal couple. Or any royalty, even though I overheard one of the docents talking about how there are a couple dukes who walk their dogs in Kensington Park, without guards around. (Then again, I'm not sure if I would recognize a random duke who was walking his dog without security around... so maybe I did see one.)
Kensington Palace has been the home to royalty since the 1600s. Notable royals (notable because there are exhibits dedicated to them) include Queen Victoria and Prince Albert (continuing the theme of the day), Queen Mary II and King William, and King George II and Queen Caroline. The royal line continues to confuse me-- though I've now been to many palaces which tell the history of royalty in England (and have cataloged a lot of it in previous blogs), I still have a hard time figuring out how they are connected and in what order they came. The connection, at least, is actually confusing, as I found out as part of my tour of Kensington Palace. So, really what I've learned from touring palaces and castles is that my confusion is justified, but only because I'm not British. (The Brits all seem to have a solid grasp on the royal lineage and succession.)
From outside, Kensington Palace is probably the most indecorated palace I've been to. The gates themselves are smaller than most palace gates (and, don't really serve more than a decorative function since you can walk around them).
And, the palace "front" (where you enter to get tickets and tour), is fairly plain, though quite impressively large.
The Kensington Palace tour is divided into three wings-- Victoria Revealed, about Queen Victoria and Prince Albert; The Queen's State Apartments, about Queen Mary II and Queen Anne; and the King's State Apartments, about King George II (and Queen Caroline, a little). (Further adding to my confusion about when they all ruled is the fact that I went backwards in time as I toured-- so Victoria ruled in the 1800s, George in the 1700s, Anne in the earlier 1700s, and Mary near the end of the 1600s.)
Victoria Revealed is told largely through quotes from Victoria's diary. It's staged in the room where she was thought to be born and on the floor where it is known she lived as a child. Much of it is hard to photograph, however, because, like many palaces, it's not well lit and there's no flash allowed. There were exhibits of her clothes as well as the wedding attire from her marriage to Prince Albert.
What is really highlighted is how sad she was after Albert died. There is a display with the mourning clothes worn by her and the children after his death and an emphasis on how she wore black for the rest of her life and retreated from society after his death. While there were informational plaques saying she was quite pretty as a young woman, most of the pictures of here were from after Albert's death, when mourning clearly took a toll on her. The great difference in her before and after Albert's death is a real focus-- and comes to light in a lot of her quotes.
The King's State Apartments is a walk through the Presence Chamber and other receiving rooms. The staircase is something of a tribute to all the courtiers.
The glass boxes along the railing contain small replicas of different court workers, like the chocolate maker or clergy. They didn't photograph well individually though. There is also a mural with a picture of all the actual court member-types
which is explained in a graphic at the top of the staircase.
The first room of the King's State Apartments is the Presence Chamber with George II's throne (which I'm assuming has seen better days-- it's a little worn)
where those seeking an audience with the King would first have to ask. However, those who really wanted the King's ear had to be allowed to advance farther into the apartment. How far you could go depended on status. So, if you were lucky, you could get into the Cupola Room, the scene for nights of dancing and music.
.jpg)
Or, if you were a really lucky courtier, you could get all the way into the King's drawing room (which was pretty dark-- so not photographed). What surprised me about both these rooms is that there was almost no furniture, despite the description of the Drawing Room as the place where people engaged in activities like playing cards. It was forbidden to sit in the presence of the King, so I guess there was no need for furniture. They must have played cards standing up. It was also quite crowded in these rooms-- they weren't terribly big but the docent told me that there could sometimes be as many as 300 people in them. There wouldn't have been any room for furniture (or dancing, really...), especially since women wore dresses like this.
The dresses themselves had to create space issues. And, the King's robes had a really long train (which you can sort of see trailing off behind). I wonder if there was a penalty for stepping on it?
The last wing of the Kensington Palace tour is the Queen's State Apartments which includes the "closet" where voices whisper about the 1710 fight between Queen Anne and her friend Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough while bird cages and tea cups move mysteriously. (I'm not sure how well you can hear the whispering-- people kept noisily walking through while I was trying to record it. It's the hissing noise in the background.)
Following the fight, the Duchess was stripped of her duties and the two women never spoke again.
There is also the dining room.
It's quite small-- but it's where she ate because she and her husband didn't like dining in public (in fact, many monarchs seemed to hate this tradition, which makes me wonder why it continued. It seems like the kind of thing that lots of more private monarchs could have simply abolished.)
And, finally, the Queen's bedroom, where the heir to James II was born (Mary II died next door to this room).
However, James II's heir was raised Catholic, which was a source of great concern for the Brits, as explained in the plaque.
In fact, that James' heir was Catholic caused people to spread rumors that Mary of Modena's actually baby died and this "imposter" baby had been smuggled in, producing an illegitimate heir. The people were so afraid of a Catholic monarch, that after Queen Anne died with no successor (Anne had 17 children, only of one of whom survived, and he died at 11. I'm pretty sure the numerous baby chairs in the dining room pictures are memorials to them all.), more than 50 people in line for the throne were passed over, according to the new laws of succession, to find a Protestant king. The docent who explained the chart below to me (he actually did the research to create it) is the person who gives credence to my confusion, especially since this chart doesn't include the children of the people in this line (since the children wouldn't have claim until the parents' deaths), which means that there really were more than 80 people who actually had claim to the throne before George I, who inherited it.
In the bedroom, there is a display created by College of Wimbledon art students-- there's a box representing each of the 50+ people from the chart who had claim to the throne.
They were really quite remarkable, though hard to photograph in the dim room.
After touring the palace exhibits themselves (which confirmed that I do think that a palace is a better expenditure of 15 pounds than a small exhibit of ballgowns, even though I'm sure they were exquisite), I wound up walking most of Kensington and Hyde Parks.
I walked through the Sunken Gardens, which are a part of Kensington Palace, and provide a much more aesthetic photo point for the palace than taking shots of it from out front do.
And, past the statue of Queen Victoria
which is impressive until you get to the memorial she had built to Prince Albert which is hard to get in its entirety, even from far away. It took 10 years to build.
The pictures don't really do the glittering gold justice.
The statue friezes around it are allegorical-- there are 8 of them, four representing Victorian arts (poetry, painting, architecture, and sculpture) and four representing four continents (Asia, Africa, America, and Europe). This is Asia (I like the expression on the camel.).
From the Prince Albert Memorial, I set off to find the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, for which the signs are not particularly good, so this was a bit of a winding path around Kensington Gardens. The memorial is to the side of the Serpentine, just past the bridge.
The fountain itself is a large "circle" (and a guarded site-- the man in the yellow jacket in the middle is security. He's also helpful at giving directions and later pointed me in the direction of the Hyde Park Corner tube station.)
where water runs downhill from two directions to form a pool.
As you can tell from the pictures, it was starting to get dark (it's pretty much totally dark by 4:45 now), so I decided to head back to find the coach back to Oxford (which was a long walk through most of Hyde park to get to the tube. It's one of the few times when something actually looked closer on the map that it really is. Usually, I find things are much closer than they appear on maps.). On the way, I passed the carnival rides which are being set up in Hyde Park (though, I didn't take a picture because they're half built so it's really a lot of mud and cranes and pretty unattractive) for Christmas. (This also increased the length of may walk to the tube station since the fastest path would have been through where the carnival was being set up-- but I had to go around.) Again, I marvel at the Brits dedication to being outdoors no matter the weather-- only they would think outdoor rides that only increase the wind velocity and cold are a good idea in late November and December.f ingredient I usually associate with the word; there would have been tomato too, but I don't like tomato so I asked not to have it.) and pita. And, they taste much better than the picture makes it look here (I'm feeling light on pictures or I probably wouldn't have included one.). In fact, surprisingly yummy for cheap food from a truck. I totally get why they are a popular staple here.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Shopping Like the Rich People Shop
On my dad's last day visiting me, he decided he wanted to go to Harrods. It's a bit of a strange choice for my dad, who doesn't really like shopping, but Harrods is a department store unlike any other. (It's also something to do indoors. I thought the weather for the day was fine-- it was a bit chilly and there was some drizzle. A nice day in November by UK standards... but I think I've acclimated.). Harrods is enormous-- and for the enormously wealthy (and incredibly beautiful. My dad pointed out that everyone who works in Harrods is very attractive. It's like you have to be a model just to work there.).
It's fairly imposing from the outside-- pretty impossible to take pictures of since it takes up a couple blocks
and is fairly tall as well.
Photos of the building itself don't quite do it justice, but the window displays photograph fairly well.
I'm not exactly sure what the displays are selling-- though, I'm sure those dresses are for sale in the store somewhere-- but they're nicely fantastical. They're not quite Christmas-y (maybe the first one, a little) which is surprising since Harrods announced the arrival of Christmas-- and Santa-- on November 2. But, maybe traditional Christmas windows are too pedestrian for Harrods.
The inside of Harrods is equally imposing; some of the departments, like the perfume department-- or the Roja Dove Haute Parfumerie as the store guide calls it--are works of art in their own right.
Even the central stairwell (with escalators, of course-- I don't think anyone as wealthy as a regular at Harrods walks stairs), or the Egyptian Hallway, is stunning.
There's really just no place in Harrods that lets you forget you need a lot of money to shop there (and, that's before you look at the price tags on things).
My dad and I started our day at Harrods with lunch. There is a food hall at Harrods
with every kind of food you can imagine-- and sit down counters in every department. We didn't eat in the food hall, however. For one, it was really busy, so all the food counters had lines just to get a seat at the relatively small eating areas in each section. Two, I'm not quite sure how you eat together if you and your companion's food preferences differ greatly (as mine and my dad's can). Each counter serves a separate department, but as far as I could tell, there's no simple, central eating area so that dining companions could buy from several counters and meet at a table So, we opted to eat on the Fifth Floor in the East Dulwich Deli-- the name is deceptive. Even a deli in Harrods is significantly fancier than anything the word conjures, so this is what a deli looks like in Harrods.
The prices are way beyond what one would imagine a deli would charge. It may have been the most expensive meal we had during my dad's visit-- and I had a salad and he had a ham and cheese sandwich. I also had some fabulous juice mixed from apple, mango and banana. It's very green even though the banana was the strongest flavor in it.
From lunch, we were headed to Christmas World, which I had great expectations for. We came across Toy Kingdom first though, which is a lot of fun.
It may be more fun without kids there since without kids, there's no one to ask for stuff and you can spend time watching the employees demonstrate the toys-- like one who makes snow (it's some concoction you mix with water that really does look and feel like fluffy snow, only not as cold. And, you can make snowballs out of it.), or one who performs magic tricks with a small ball of light, or one who creates drawings on a black board that becomes multi-colored when a wooden stick is moved across it. The same wooden stick can return the board to a blank, black, canvas-- it's like a modern etch-a-sketch, only cooler and with more potential to create good drawings. As part of one demonstration, I got a sparkly heart tattoo (it's a tattoo kit that allows you to create tattoos out of glitter) and at another, my dad got a fancy sticker to wear (you create your own stickers with foil paper attached to a self-created or pre-made shape) which he gave to me after a few minutes. (I guess he thought it was too girly). See-- much more fun without kids in tow; I'm sure if there are kids in tow, they get the tattoos and the stickers.
We wandered through other sections of Harrods on our way to finding Christmas World, which turned out to be disappointing in comparison to the other departments.
There was a lot of Christmas stuff, but it wasn't the sort of "magical" world I was expecting. Maybe Toy Kingdom raised my expectations too high. Christmas World is on the same floor as Kitchenware, however, and there I got to sample a latte made from the new Starbucks Verismo system. It which was surprisingly good, especially considering I chose to have the milk steamed from a pod (rather than have actual steamed milk) in my latte, just to see how it would taste. I don't know that I would have known the milk came from a pod if I hadn't been told (and, watched it brew-- in two steps. The milk pod brews first and then the espresso pod brews, with the water at a higher temperature.).
We also walked through the music department, which featured incredible music boxes. This one has 8 (I think I'm remembering that correctly) different cylinders and mimics multiple instruments.
It's fairly imposing from the outside-- pretty impossible to take pictures of since it takes up a couple blocks
and is fairly tall as well.
Photos of the building itself don't quite do it justice, but the window displays photograph fairly well.
I'm not exactly sure what the displays are selling-- though, I'm sure those dresses are for sale in the store somewhere-- but they're nicely fantastical. They're not quite Christmas-y (maybe the first one, a little) which is surprising since Harrods announced the arrival of Christmas-- and Santa-- on November 2. But, maybe traditional Christmas windows are too pedestrian for Harrods.
The inside of Harrods is equally imposing; some of the departments, like the perfume department-- or the Roja Dove Haute Parfumerie as the store guide calls it--are works of art in their own right.
Even the central stairwell (with escalators, of course-- I don't think anyone as wealthy as a regular at Harrods walks stairs), or the Egyptian Hallway, is stunning.
There's really just no place in Harrods that lets you forget you need a lot of money to shop there (and, that's before you look at the price tags on things).
My dad and I started our day at Harrods with lunch. There is a food hall at Harrods
with every kind of food you can imagine-- and sit down counters in every department. We didn't eat in the food hall, however. For one, it was really busy, so all the food counters had lines just to get a seat at the relatively small eating areas in each section. Two, I'm not quite sure how you eat together if you and your companion's food preferences differ greatly (as mine and my dad's can). Each counter serves a separate department, but as far as I could tell, there's no simple, central eating area so that dining companions could buy from several counters and meet at a table So, we opted to eat on the Fifth Floor in the East Dulwich Deli-- the name is deceptive. Even a deli in Harrods is significantly fancier than anything the word conjures, so this is what a deli looks like in Harrods.
The prices are way beyond what one would imagine a deli would charge. It may have been the most expensive meal we had during my dad's visit-- and I had a salad and he had a ham and cheese sandwich. I also had some fabulous juice mixed from apple, mango and banana. It's very green even though the banana was the strongest flavor in it.
From lunch, we were headed to Christmas World, which I had great expectations for. We came across Toy Kingdom first though, which is a lot of fun.
It may be more fun without kids there since without kids, there's no one to ask for stuff and you can spend time watching the employees demonstrate the toys-- like one who makes snow (it's some concoction you mix with water that really does look and feel like fluffy snow, only not as cold. And, you can make snowballs out of it.), or one who performs magic tricks with a small ball of light, or one who creates drawings on a black board that becomes multi-colored when a wooden stick is moved across it. The same wooden stick can return the board to a blank, black, canvas-- it's like a modern etch-a-sketch, only cooler and with more potential to create good drawings. As part of one demonstration, I got a sparkly heart tattoo (it's a tattoo kit that allows you to create tattoos out of glitter) and at another, my dad got a fancy sticker to wear (you create your own stickers with foil paper attached to a self-created or pre-made shape) which he gave to me after a few minutes. (I guess he thought it was too girly). See-- much more fun without kids in tow; I'm sure if there are kids in tow, they get the tattoos and the stickers.
We wandered through other sections of Harrods on our way to finding Christmas World, which turned out to be disappointing in comparison to the other departments.
There was a lot of Christmas stuff, but it wasn't the sort of "magical" world I was expecting. Maybe Toy Kingdom raised my expectations too high. Christmas World is on the same floor as Kitchenware, however, and there I got to sample a latte made from the new Starbucks Verismo system. It which was surprisingly good, especially considering I chose to have the milk steamed from a pod (rather than have actual steamed milk) in my latte, just to see how it would taste. I don't know that I would have known the milk came from a pod if I hadn't been told (and, watched it brew-- in two steps. The milk pod brews first and then the espresso pod brews, with the water at a higher temperature.).
We also walked through the music department, which featured incredible music boxes. This one has 8 (I think I'm remembering that correctly) different cylinders and mimics multiple instruments.
And, it retails for about 70,000 pounds. The saleswoman then showed us a more reasonably priced music box. It features a moving bird
and sells for a much lower price-- about 20,000 pounds. (Makes you want to pick up several...)
About this time, my dad decided he was hot (I have noticed that the Brits really pump the heat in stores lately...) and tired of walking around, so he sat on an ottoman in the women's shoe department (which was about the only place with seating that wasn't reserved-- if you're not buying, Harrods really wants you to keep moving) while I wandered the first floor which is largely where all the womenswear (along with shoes) is. This is when I came to the realization that I've chosen the wrong profession, at least if I ever want to be able to buy the kinds of clothes and shoes sold at Harrods (which, I have to admit, I kind of do. I went past a separate shoe department where the Manolo Blahniks were kept which is when I really started lamenting a professor's salary. I really wanted to try them on-- but I was dressed for comfort in jeans, what is becoming a rather raggedy sweater and, after several months of walking the UK, even more raggedy sneakers and I didn't have the nerve to pretend like I belonged in the luxury shoe department (or, even the "regular" shoe department, since "regular" in Harrods means Prada and Jimmy Choo). My realization that I do not make enough money to shop in Harrods combined with my dad's shopping fatigue ended our day, so we headed back to the tube station. Harrods is lit up at night-- it's really quite pretty in the dark (I'm pretty sure that with the exception of the Christmas tree, it looks much like this all year round at night.).
We did, however, stop off at Hobbs of London (a very nice store with great quality clothing, if you're not comparing it to someplace like Harrods) on our way to the station so I could yet again look at the coat I've been admiring at the Hobbs store in Oxford. This is why I should not go shopping with my dad-- when it's my money I'll be spending, my otherwise thrifty father becomes quite encouraging and loose with the wallet. So, I now have a new winter coat. I've been pretty hard on the little clothing I have with me here (though my brutal washing machine/dryer combo does hold a lot of the blame for this), so I don't really want to wear it around to travel (my current winter coat has started to look pretty shabby, and that I can't blame on the evil washer/dryer). Now, I visit the Hobbs coat in the shopping bag it's in-- it'll debut when I get it back to the States where I don't think I'm quite as hard on my clothes.
A couple days after my dad left, I continued my shopping spree by going to Bicester Village, an outlet mall about 30 minutes away from Oxford. I didn't actually have any realistic expectations of buying clothes in Harrods, but I am getting really tired of the few sweaters I brought with me to the UK (the photos of me all feature the same ones, making it look like they were all taken in the same week even though I've been here for three months now) and, I'm getting tired of looking like a touristy slob all the time, and I thought an outlet mall would be the perfect place to pick up a few things to augment what I've come to think of as my very sad and schleppy wardrobe. I was very wrong about the outlet mall being a perfect place for this.
Bicester Village is made up of stores for all the major designers magazines like Vogue feature. There's Valentino, Max Mira, Prada, Diane von Furstenberg, Alexander McQueen... it goes on an on. (You can get a real sense of the number of top designers represented, as well as the size of the shopping village which the picture below doesn't capture, from the Bicester Village map at http://www.bicestervillage.com/en/plan-your-visit/about-bicester-village/village-map/village-map.) I fell in love with a blouse in Max Mira until I fished out the hidden price tag-- it was marked down to 495 pounds, which is a bargain if you consider it originally retailed for around 900 pounds. In fact, all of Bicester Village is filled with those kinds of bargains-- gowns that once were more than 2000 pounds (or in the case of Valentino, more than 5000 pounds) at 40% off or sweaters marked down to 295 pounds (previously from 400 or more). You can even get a Burberry scarf for just a little more than 100 pounds. Honestly, there are some real steals to be found if you consider what these designers normally retail for; it's just that I would have had to actually steal in order to afford anything.
Bicester Village does have a few "common" stores like Northface, Juicy Couture, and something called Superdry which I think is a Japanese brand. Superdry had pretty casual clothes-- lots of t-shirts and hoodies--which were largely in plain colors and had "Superdry" written on them in large letters. I didn't really get the appeal, but the store was packed. Maybe because it was one of the only affordable stores in the place (and, affordable is relative here).
The only thing I wound up buying at Bicester Village was lunch; I did, however, have lunch at the Jamie Oliver food stand
which was exciting because it's the first celebrity chef place I've eaten at. I had beef stew-- for food sold out of a small stand, it was really quite good (as you can see, there were a lot of people queueing-- always a good sign). I am apparently the only person who leaves Bicester Village empty-handed though; everyone else at the bus stop with me was laden down with bags. I want to know what they do for a living.
I have about five weeks left in my living abroad experience-- I may just have to suffer with my terrible wardrobe (maybe throw away or donate a lot of it to the charity shops before I go) because none of the shopping experiences are going well, at least not from a buying perspective. I did stop in a shop called Apricots when I got back to Oxford-- I found a really cute blouse there for 15 pounds... that seemed more my price range.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Waffles Really are Better in Belgium
I had a plan when my dad and I got off the train in Brussels; there was a tram that would take us to within a block of our hotel. So, we meandered through the winding route of the Brussels Midi train station, exited the station, and walked over to where the tram pickup was to figure out how to buy a ticket. We were just about to head back inside the train station to find a cash machine (because we couldn't use a credit card for tram tickets), when we heard the sound of screeching tires coming around the corner. It was a car-- careening quite fast up the tram line. Hubcaps came flying off the tires, metal scraped against the tram tracks-- and still the car continued to speed up as it tried to round the corner. And then, got stuck.
The driver tried to keep going-- tires spun, there was a little more metal scraping, and the smell of burnt rubber, but as a crowd began to form and the police began arrive on the scene, the driver gave up and emerged from the car.
My French isn't good enough to understand the explanation the driver gave each successive police officer, who all seemed to be asking, "what the hell were you doing?", but it is good enough to understand that just about everyone in the crowd was calling him crazy. And then, a few volunteers stepped forward to attempt to carry the car off the tracks.
The driver tried to keep going-- tires spun, there was a little more metal scraping, and the smell of burnt rubber, but as a crowd began to form and the police began arrive on the scene, the driver gave up and emerged from the car.
My French isn't good enough to understand the explanation the driver gave each successive police officer, who all seemed to be asking, "what the hell were you doing?", but it is good enough to understand that just about everyone in the crowd was calling him crazy. And then, a few volunteers stepped forward to attempt to carry the car off the tracks.
The trip was comparatively uneventful from there-- largely because it's quite easy to walk Brussels and see much of it, so we didn't need transportation again until we took a taxi to return to the station. Our hotel, Hotel Siru, was across the street from the top of Rue Neuve, a long walking street full of shops that was bustling around 4 pm when we headed out.
Rue Neuve seems impressive-- until you come upon the Grand Place which is breathtaking. And, it didn't lose the ability to stun us the whole time we were there.
It was still too early for dinner, even though it was getting dark, so we did as the Belgians do and sat outside at La Chaloupe D'Or and had a beer.
Mine is an Affligem Blond; the one my dad is holding is blanche, or white, beer which is a cloudy wheat beer, but I can't remember which brand. We both preferred the Affligem, though I do think the white beer was probably more what I think of as traditionally Belgian. Fortified by our beer, and getting a little chilly just sitting, we started wandering down the little streets that run off the Grand Place. Mostly, they are filled with restaurants, souvenir shops, and chocolate shops. There is no shortage of stores that sell chocolate in Brussels. Chocolate is literally flowing.
How all the chocolate stores manage to stay in business, I don't know. But they are all a little different. Some even sell carved chocolate which seems to pretty and intricate to actually eat.
We actually stopped and bought chocolate in this one, Leonidas,
because my guide book recommended it. The store gets its name from the founder, Leonidas George Kestekides who originally introduced his chocolates at the 1910 World Fair in Brussels. He then opened his first store in Ghent three years later-- there are many Leonidas stores all over the world now. There are multiple stores located around the Grand Place alone. His stores themselves were remarkable for that window style-- it's called a guillotine window-- which was apparently a revolutionary store front in its time. Leonidas' goal was to provide superior chocolates at a reasonable price. My dad and I each got a small box with three chocolates-- one white, one milk, and one dark. They still cost quite a bit more than a Hershey bar (2 euros for the three pieces)... but, it is really good chocolate (much better than a Hershey bar). The solid piece of milk chocolate, which I ate in my hotel room later that night, was particularly good.
Eventually, we decided we were ready for dinner-- which had to be "moules et frites." We wandered for a while trying to find a place that seemed to specialize in this traditional Belgian fare, mostly because we were trying to find Chez Leon, a recommendation for good and reasonable mussels. Finally, we found it on the Rue des Bouchers, a very busy street packed with restaurants which largely seemed to specialize in seafood and/or Italian fare.
Inside, Leon's is packed with tables and doesn't look at all like the "fast food" kind of place it was described in my guide book to be. When I think fast food, I think McDonald's interior, not this.
It was more like a bustling brasserie. A bustling brasserie which served "moules et frites" in just the way you would expect, drunk, of course, with more beer.
We'd been traveling all day from Oxford to get to Brussels and now it was later in the evening, so we headed back to the hotel.
Siru is a pretty nice hotel, but my favorite part was the motion-sensor lights which went on, as if by magic, in succession as you walked down the hall. I don't know why, but this entertained me every time we went down the hall, so much so that I recorded it.
The next morning started with breakfast at the attached Hotel Colonies. We needed vouchers from our hotel to have breakfast there, which we didn't know, so the Hotel Colonies' concierge went next door to get them for us. While he was gone, I started taking pictures of the fountain in the lobby, a take on the Manneken-Pis (which we went to later in the day), the statue that the whole city of Brussels seems to be enamored with, if the replicas and imitations are any indication (and, I think they are). The one at Hotel Colonies is spitting.
When the concierge came back and saw I was taking pictures, he insisted I take one of him as well since he was so kind as to go get our breakfast vouchers. I told him that if I took his picture, he would end up on my blog which made him even happier. So, this is the very nice concierge from Hotel Colonies.
After breakfast, we headed out to make a circular walk of Brussels that would take us past the Palais Royal and end us up back at the Grand Place. To get there, we first walked through the Botanic Gardens.
It was quite nice even in November, but I'm sure it's gorgeous in spring. On the side of the Botanic Gardens is the Glass House
which was built in 1826 as a green house though it became a cultural center in the 1980s. From there, we walked down the Rue Royale, past the Parc de Bruxelles (again, probably wonderful in the spring)
which contained a display of whimsical statues like this one (which I particularly liked because the bottom has a sketch of the Manneken-Pis on the bottom--you can see it if you make the picture larger),
to the Palais Royal.
That the flag is flying means that the King is in residence, though we didn't get to see him. In fact, I had to look up who the current monarch is once I got back to England (it's Albert II). He was never mentioned. The Belgian monarchy doesn't seem to create the media attention or tourist draw it does in England. The reason for this became somewhat clear while we were touring the BELvue, a museum that covers the history of the monarchy since 1830 (the time after the Belgian revolution when a new government was formed), built in a section that was once part of the palace.
(The Hapsburg's reign doesn't seem to be something the Belgians are keen on creating memorials to. At least, there doesn't seem to be much on this history on ready, advertised display.)
In Belgium, a new government was formed in the latter part of 1830 and this government chose the new monarch. They chose Leopold of Saxe-Coburg and it is from his lineage that the rest of the monarchs came. Much of the BELvue Museum celebrates or critiques industrial, political, and social developments since 1830-- time is marked by the changing monarchs, but in a lot of ways, they seem rather incidental. This may be because the royalty of Belgium doesn't have the same royal trappings as other monarchs (so, they aren't as interesting for tourists). For example, there is no crown, no thrown, no scepter, and no robes. The monarch dresses in military costume as "formal" attire (that the post seems largely tied to the military makes me wonder if there can be a female monarch in Belgium. There hasn't been a woman in charge since 1830.). Apparently, Leopold thought this lack of show was a good idea for the public image of the royal family though he secretly resented not having all the pomp and circumstance other monarchs had.
Belgium had the first national railway, something the museum makes it clear the country is very proud of, though industrialization also brought with it a lot of class warfare and strife, workers' revolutions, and the eventual adoption of Socialism in the late 19th century.
Leopold I was succeeded by his son, Leopold II, in 1865. Leopold II also became the sovereign ruler of the Congo which was a source of great consternation to most of the Belgians who were appalled at the exploitation taking place in Congo under Leopold II's rule. It made Leopold II a relatively unpopular monarch; he spent a lot of his later life in Paris instead of in Brussels. However, his son and successor, Albert I, became a very popular monarch as he and his wife, Elisabeth, were perceived by the Belgians to be an "everyday family." Albert became even more popular after is visit to the Congo where he criticized his father's policies. And, his place as a beloved monarch was even more solidified when he agreed to the introduction of a "democratic" voting system (in that it allowed a single vote system for men) in 1918. (Women didn't gain suffrage until quite late in Belgium--in 1948, there were still limitations.) Albert, a passionate mountain climber, fell to his death from a mountain, in 1934 and was succeeded by his son Leopold III.
Leopold III seems to have been popular for a short while, at least while his wife, Queen Astrid, was alive. She died in a traffic accident in 1935. In the museum, her death is juxtaposed with (and somewhat overshadowed by) the invention of the radio which allowed all of Belgium to follow the funeral ceremony through live broadcast. After her death, Leopold III seems to have made what the Belgians considered questionable decisions, including remarrying and siding with the Germans during WWII. At the very least, he drafted a letter expressing reservations about the allied forces and resistance. After WWII, the Belgians were fairly divided about whether or not Leopold should be allowed to return to the throne-- it was almost a 50-50 split, divided along political and religious lines (Socialists and Communists wanted him out, Catholics wanted him in. The Flemish wanted him to return, those in Brussels and Walloons wanted him to stay away.). He eventually returned after a five year absence (during which Prince Charles, I believe his brother, served as Regent) only to abdicate in 1951 to his son Baudouin who served as King until his death in the 1990s. It was during Baudouin's rule that the Congo gained independence.This is where the museum history ends-- this is also why I had to look up who the current monarch is after I got back. There are no photos of the current king even though Albert II has been the monarch for about 15 years now.
The story the BELvue Museum presents is really more a social, political and economic one than one of the royal family, though I did learn a lot about Belgium itself that I never would have learned elsewhere. What we didn't get to see were the promised royal rooms-- I thought that we were also going to see the ostentatious quarters from each period of rule, but that was nowhere to be found. The rooms that the displays were in were rather plain, though if you looked carefully, you could tell from the walls that this section of the palace probably used to be pretty impressive.
Before leaving the Palace area, we also toured the Coudenberg archeological site located under the palace, after stopping in the cafe for a drink of sparkling water (which I bought by mistake instead of the still because the bottles weren't clearly labeled. I'm not really a fan of sparking water, but my dad really enjoyed it and continued to order it for the rest of our trip.). The cafe wasn't particularly remarkable, but the garden outside was
which once again makes me think Brussels would be well worth visiting in spring.
The Coudenberg is actually the ruins of the former palace which stood on the site of the current palace. I took a couple pictures, though I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to (there was small sign with a picture of a camera with an X through it. It wasn't particularly obvious though-- I've just been to enough places that I look for signs about taking pictures now.). There was no one around to stop me from taking pictures though, so I took a couple before I felt guilty and stopped. Most amazing to me was that part of this site, now totally covered and collapsed, was once open air streets.
There wasn't much to go on in terms of artifacts to signal what each section used to be, but we walked through the Chapel (which, interestingly, was never actually used as a chapel after it was built; it was most likely used for storage), the Rue Isabelle (which was the former open-air street), and the Aula Magna, the former banquet hall and inner courtyard. There was a lot of imagination involved in walking through this-- as far as archeological sites go, it wasn't terribly informative even with the audio guide, and my dad and I wound up sort of rushing through it quickly after I marveled at the age of the ruins for a few minutes (that things this old still exist has yet to cease to amaze me. Everywhere I go in the UK, and the rest of Europe, has structures that are more than a thousand years old and no matter how many I see, I'm still impressed and overwhelmed by the great history of it all.). From the Palais Royal, we started towards the Grand Place, passing by the Grand Sablon with the Palais d'Egmont.
It used to be the home of the Duke D'Egmont but now houses part of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. From here, we went down a short road where we came across a loan food truck selling Belgian waffles (which I guess are just waffles in Belgium). The smell, which I had gotten a whiff of as we walked down Rue Neuve the night before, was intoxicating. I had to have a waffle-- and I convinced my dad, who was just going to take a bite of mine, to get one of his own (which was good because he admitted that even though he hadn't thought he wanted one, if he had only had a bite of mine, he would have been really sorry he hadn't gotten his own.) Belgian waffles off the street really do taste better than any other waffle-- they are piping hot and caramelized by the cooking process.
They are not the healthiest lunch, but they are a pretty tasty one. One which we happily ate while continuing our walk to the Grand Place (after posing for a picture with them. I think this is the only picture from our whole trip of the two of us together-- that's how much we wanted to commemorate the waffles.).
To get to the Grand Place, you go down a set of stairs and walk through this garden
which no map or guide book will tell me the name of (and, I've looked quite a bit), and through the Place de la Justice, where lots of people were posing with this sculpture
to Rue de la Madeleine which takes you back into the area of the Grand Place. And, the Grand Place, on the second day and in daylight, was just as stunning as the night before.
It is a pretty large square, so it's hard to get a picture of the whole thing at once. But, the three pictures together give a sense of the scope-- though not the magnificence. It's brighter and more golden and colorful in person.
My dad was quite tired by this point.
However, I managed to convince him that a visit to the Beer Museum
located on the opposite side of the square from this wall he had planted himself on, would be reviving, especially since we would be given a beer as part of our tour.
Actually, the sign doesn't really hype the included beer enough-- it was the best part of the museum. The museum itself is one room
containing some of the devices and containers needed to make beer.
The booklet we were given when we entered was more informative and interesting than the museum itself, which, in a way, is ok because we could take the booklet with us. And, it has a lot of interesting history, descriptions of Belgian beers, and an explanation of the brewing process. It's really worth reading.
The rest of the "museum" is really a small, and very quaint, pub
where you sit and have a beer after the tour. This is really the best part, not just because you can drink a beer, but because watching beer poured from taps in the correct way is fascinating.
When the concierge came back and saw I was taking pictures, he insisted I take one of him as well since he was so kind as to go get our breakfast vouchers. I told him that if I took his picture, he would end up on my blog which made him even happier. So, this is the very nice concierge from Hotel Colonies.
After breakfast, we headed out to make a circular walk of Brussels that would take us past the Palais Royal and end us up back at the Grand Place. To get there, we first walked through the Botanic Gardens.
It was quite nice even in November, but I'm sure it's gorgeous in spring. On the side of the Botanic Gardens is the Glass House
which was built in 1826 as a green house though it became a cultural center in the 1980s. From there, we walked down the Rue Royale, past the Parc de Bruxelles (again, probably wonderful in the spring)
which contained a display of whimsical statues like this one (which I particularly liked because the bottom has a sketch of the Manneken-Pis on the bottom--you can see it if you make the picture larger),
to the Palais Royal.
That the flag is flying means that the King is in residence, though we didn't get to see him. In fact, I had to look up who the current monarch is once I got back to England (it's Albert II). He was never mentioned. The Belgian monarchy doesn't seem to create the media attention or tourist draw it does in England. The reason for this became somewhat clear while we were touring the BELvue, a museum that covers the history of the monarchy since 1830 (the time after the Belgian revolution when a new government was formed), built in a section that was once part of the palace.
(The Hapsburg's reign doesn't seem to be something the Belgians are keen on creating memorials to. At least, there doesn't seem to be much on this history on ready, advertised display.)
In Belgium, a new government was formed in the latter part of 1830 and this government chose the new monarch. They chose Leopold of Saxe-Coburg and it is from his lineage that the rest of the monarchs came. Much of the BELvue Museum celebrates or critiques industrial, political, and social developments since 1830-- time is marked by the changing monarchs, but in a lot of ways, they seem rather incidental. This may be because the royalty of Belgium doesn't have the same royal trappings as other monarchs (so, they aren't as interesting for tourists). For example, there is no crown, no thrown, no scepter, and no robes. The monarch dresses in military costume as "formal" attire (that the post seems largely tied to the military makes me wonder if there can be a female monarch in Belgium. There hasn't been a woman in charge since 1830.). Apparently, Leopold thought this lack of show was a good idea for the public image of the royal family though he secretly resented not having all the pomp and circumstance other monarchs had.
Belgium had the first national railway, something the museum makes it clear the country is very proud of, though industrialization also brought with it a lot of class warfare and strife, workers' revolutions, and the eventual adoption of Socialism in the late 19th century.
Leopold I was succeeded by his son, Leopold II, in 1865. Leopold II also became the sovereign ruler of the Congo which was a source of great consternation to most of the Belgians who were appalled at the exploitation taking place in Congo under Leopold II's rule. It made Leopold II a relatively unpopular monarch; he spent a lot of his later life in Paris instead of in Brussels. However, his son and successor, Albert I, became a very popular monarch as he and his wife, Elisabeth, were perceived by the Belgians to be an "everyday family." Albert became even more popular after is visit to the Congo where he criticized his father's policies. And, his place as a beloved monarch was even more solidified when he agreed to the introduction of a "democratic" voting system (in that it allowed a single vote system for men) in 1918. (Women didn't gain suffrage until quite late in Belgium--in 1948, there were still limitations.) Albert, a passionate mountain climber, fell to his death from a mountain, in 1934 and was succeeded by his son Leopold III.
Leopold III seems to have been popular for a short while, at least while his wife, Queen Astrid, was alive. She died in a traffic accident in 1935. In the museum, her death is juxtaposed with (and somewhat overshadowed by) the invention of the radio which allowed all of Belgium to follow the funeral ceremony through live broadcast. After her death, Leopold III seems to have made what the Belgians considered questionable decisions, including remarrying and siding with the Germans during WWII. At the very least, he drafted a letter expressing reservations about the allied forces and resistance. After WWII, the Belgians were fairly divided about whether or not Leopold should be allowed to return to the throne-- it was almost a 50-50 split, divided along political and religious lines (Socialists and Communists wanted him out, Catholics wanted him in. The Flemish wanted him to return, those in Brussels and Walloons wanted him to stay away.). He eventually returned after a five year absence (during which Prince Charles, I believe his brother, served as Regent) only to abdicate in 1951 to his son Baudouin who served as King until his death in the 1990s. It was during Baudouin's rule that the Congo gained independence.This is where the museum history ends-- this is also why I had to look up who the current monarch is after I got back. There are no photos of the current king even though Albert II has been the monarch for about 15 years now.
The story the BELvue Museum presents is really more a social, political and economic one than one of the royal family, though I did learn a lot about Belgium itself that I never would have learned elsewhere. What we didn't get to see were the promised royal rooms-- I thought that we were also going to see the ostentatious quarters from each period of rule, but that was nowhere to be found. The rooms that the displays were in were rather plain, though if you looked carefully, you could tell from the walls that this section of the palace probably used to be pretty impressive.
Before leaving the Palace area, we also toured the Coudenberg archeological site located under the palace, after stopping in the cafe for a drink of sparkling water (which I bought by mistake instead of the still because the bottles weren't clearly labeled. I'm not really a fan of sparking water, but my dad really enjoyed it and continued to order it for the rest of our trip.). The cafe wasn't particularly remarkable, but the garden outside was
which once again makes me think Brussels would be well worth visiting in spring.
The Coudenberg is actually the ruins of the former palace which stood on the site of the current palace. I took a couple pictures, though I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to (there was small sign with a picture of a camera with an X through it. It wasn't particularly obvious though-- I've just been to enough places that I look for signs about taking pictures now.). There was no one around to stop me from taking pictures though, so I took a couple before I felt guilty and stopped. Most amazing to me was that part of this site, now totally covered and collapsed, was once open air streets.
There wasn't much to go on in terms of artifacts to signal what each section used to be, but we walked through the Chapel (which, interestingly, was never actually used as a chapel after it was built; it was most likely used for storage), the Rue Isabelle (which was the former open-air street), and the Aula Magna, the former banquet hall and inner courtyard. There was a lot of imagination involved in walking through this-- as far as archeological sites go, it wasn't terribly informative even with the audio guide, and my dad and I wound up sort of rushing through it quickly after I marveled at the age of the ruins for a few minutes (that things this old still exist has yet to cease to amaze me. Everywhere I go in the UK, and the rest of Europe, has structures that are more than a thousand years old and no matter how many I see, I'm still impressed and overwhelmed by the great history of it all.). From the Palais Royal, we started towards the Grand Place, passing by the Grand Sablon with the Palais d'Egmont.
It used to be the home of the Duke D'Egmont but now houses part of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. From here, we went down a short road where we came across a loan food truck selling Belgian waffles (which I guess are just waffles in Belgium). The smell, which I had gotten a whiff of as we walked down Rue Neuve the night before, was intoxicating. I had to have a waffle-- and I convinced my dad, who was just going to take a bite of mine, to get one of his own (which was good because he admitted that even though he hadn't thought he wanted one, if he had only had a bite of mine, he would have been really sorry he hadn't gotten his own.) Belgian waffles off the street really do taste better than any other waffle-- they are piping hot and caramelized by the cooking process.
They are not the healthiest lunch, but they are a pretty tasty one. One which we happily ate while continuing our walk to the Grand Place (after posing for a picture with them. I think this is the only picture from our whole trip of the two of us together-- that's how much we wanted to commemorate the waffles.).
To get to the Grand Place, you go down a set of stairs and walk through this garden
which no map or guide book will tell me the name of (and, I've looked quite a bit), and through the Place de la Justice, where lots of people were posing with this sculpture
to Rue de la Madeleine which takes you back into the area of the Grand Place. And, the Grand Place, on the second day and in daylight, was just as stunning as the night before.
It is a pretty large square, so it's hard to get a picture of the whole thing at once. But, the three pictures together give a sense of the scope-- though not the magnificence. It's brighter and more golden and colorful in person.
My dad was quite tired by this point.
However, I managed to convince him that a visit to the Beer Museum
located on the opposite side of the square from this wall he had planted himself on, would be reviving, especially since we would be given a beer as part of our tour.
Actually, the sign doesn't really hype the included beer enough-- it was the best part of the museum. The museum itself is one room
containing some of the devices and containers needed to make beer.
The booklet we were given when we entered was more informative and interesting than the museum itself, which, in a way, is ok because we could take the booklet with us. And, it has a lot of interesting history, descriptions of Belgian beers, and an explanation of the brewing process. It's really worth reading.
The rest of the "museum" is really a small, and very quaint, pub
And, I was right that a beer would revive my dad. Look how much happier he looks than when he was sitting on the wall!
(We shared the two beers he's holding-- one blonde and one brune. He didn't actually drink them both himself.)
The frites come in a ridiculously large portion, topped with whatever sauce you choose (that's tartar sauce which is what I got on mine. My dad got ketchup.)
Again, not the healthiest snack, but we were very happy eating them.
Fortified with (or stuffed and laden, depending on how you want to view it) frites, we set off to find the Manneken-Pis. It was pretty late in the afternoon, but we figured that if we went all the way to Brussels and didn't see the Manneken-Pis, we would be scolded by those we told our story to.
We did pass many Mannekin-Pis reproductions along the way, like tiny chocolate ones (these are actually flavored chocolates-- we bought a bag later. They're a bit strange-- each one does taste different though.)
and larger ones enjoying waffles.
Right next to this waffle eating Manneken-Pis is the real one.
It's much smaller than I thought it would be. For all the kitchy souvenirs, reproductions of it, chocolate shaped like it, and plays on it, I thought it would more impressive. Mostly, it's fun to take funny pictures in front of.
The Manneken-Pis is an example of the irreverent spirit of the Belgians. He has outfits (800 of them) that he is sometimes dressed in, though obviously he was in his natural state when we visited. He's also been stolen three times-- the last time was in 1817 when he was found broken in pieces. So, this Manneken-Pis is actually a replica of the original that no longer exists.
Having seen the Mannekin-Pis in all his glory, we walked back to the Grand Place and sat with the masses of tourists and locals again at La Chaloupe D'Or. No matter what the weather, people sit outside. This time, we had the brune Affligem.
(My dad made me the official photo taker-- so he's in a lot more pictures than I am. But, you can see my beer in the foreground.) Beer is a good way to end a day in Belgium, so from here we headed back to the hotel and, after a rest, to dinner at the nearby Boston Steak House (which really isn't much like an American steak house except that it had steak on the menu). I had pasta and my dad had a hamburger which was really good, but different from an American hamburger, maybe because of the sauce on it. My dad was good and got a salad instead of more frites. He was a bit on frite overload...
We had limited time on our last day in Brussels because we had to catch a train back to England, but I really wanted to see the Museum of Cocoa and Chocolate. We had been on the lookout for it since day one and hadn't found it--I blame the map we were using which has a stamped spot showing its location that isn't quite right. But, the stamp on the map got us close to where it should be and then my dad spotted it on a side street right off the Grand Place.
This museum also provide a very informative booklet, this time on the history of chocolate, roasting cocoa beans, and making the beans into chocolate. It has some interesting displays including this sculpture made from sugar
and, really impressively, these clothes which are made of chocolate.
I really wanted to touch them, but there was a sign saying not to. It was really hard to resist the temptation though. There is also a demonstration of how to make pralines (which are not what I was thinking of when I heard pralines-- they are any filled shell of chocolate) in the traditional way. I recorded some of it, though most of the actual explanation is in French.
The museum also provides ample samples of chocolate from white chocolate to 100% cacao-- you could feast on chocolate nibs if you were so inclined. You also got a Belgian cinnamon cookie, called a speculoos, hand dipped in chocolate right in front of you. It was really good-- but even more amazing was that the woman handing out the cookie-dipped-in-chocolate spoke at least 4 languages with relative fluency. And, I'm guessing she spoke more than the four I heard (French, English, Italian, and Spanish). In fact, almost everyone in Brussels (except perhaps the man who did the praline demonstration) speaks multiple languages-- and speaks them well. This makes sense since Brussels is the EU headquarter, but still it's incredible. And humbling.
After the Museum of Cocoa and Chocolate, we had a little time to kill, so we wandered through the shops at the Galerie Royale, which sold products at royal prices
and finally went back to the hotel to collect our luggage and get a taxi to the train station.
The train station should have been the least remarkable part of our trip to Brussels, but as it was interesting in the beginning for the car on the tram rails, it was interesting in the end as well. We had to fill out "landing cards" (a name which makes more sense when traveling by plane then by train) to hand to passport control on our way through security. My dad put down his bag with his medications in it and when he went to pick it up, it was gone. We made a feeble attempt to report this to someone working in the train station, but what was in the bag was valuable only to my dad-- and probably a great disappointment to the thief once he went through it since the most valuable thing in it was the relatively inexpensive camera that my dad never once took a picture with; there was nothing the thief could have sold or used since there was no money, credit cards or passports in the bag and my dad's medications aren't the kind that anyone on the street would want. So, it didn't seem worth missing our train to file an official police report. The bag was probably in a trashcan somewhere before my dad even realized it was gone. Even though my dad handled the loss of his bag with relative calm and grace (after cursing for a minute or so), it wasn't the best way to end a trip to Brussels. So, I'd rather leave it with this image instead...
They had just about everyone up and dancing (which I tried to film, but it was all in a tight, pretty dimly lit space and everything I filmed was too chaotic to get a real sense of it. But, you can get a sense of the music.)
They did, at one point, play Simple Joys (below) which doesn't matter much to anyone, I'm sure, except that it's from Pippin, which I worked on when I was in high school but which isn't a well known play. So, I was surprised that anyone was doing a cover from Pippin.
There was also a musical rendition of The Jabberwocky, as close to an Oxford anthem as there is since Lewis Carroll taught at Christs Church and lived in Oxford. I didn't have my camera out at that point though.
After the bands were over, everyone was invited to hang around and drink more, but I was fairly zapped of energy at that point-- I had a cold coming on (and a long walk back, in the dark and cold, to the bus that would drop me near my flat to exacerbate the feeling I was getting sick). I had gone a search earlier in the day for Cold-eeze because I knew the cold (which has now settled in as I'm typing this) was coming. It turns out, there is no Cold-eeze in the UK (I don't think it's on shelves anywhere outside the US, though it can be ordered online-- I didn't have that much time to wait since it has to be taken in the first 24 hours of the onset of symptoms.). I tried to explain to the pharmacist (who, herself, seemed to be coming down with a cold) what it is-- she seemed fascinated by it and started asking me all sorts of questions about it (so if there is suddenly a British demand for Cold-eeze, I would like some kind of sales commission). Pharmacists are really knowledgeable and friendly here-- at least in Oxford. Unless an actual prescription is needed, it's really just as helpful to go see one of them as it is to go to a doctor.
There was some kind of dissolving fizzy thing that combined zinc and vitamin C that the pharmacist suggested but which didn't seem like quite the same thing-- and, I wasn't sure how I was going to drink enough of it to overload my system with zinc the way I wanted to. I decided to leave it as a backup plan and went to the health food store; the people who worked there were equally perplexed by my description of Cold-eeze, but showed me what they had by way of lozenges. What I did find is not quite the same thing, but it's a combination of zinc and vitamin C (which the pharmacist kept insisting I really needed, more than the zinc-- actually, what I got was a lot like what the pharmacist recommended but without the problem of having to drink it. And, with a slightly higher dose of zinc.). The zinc is basically in the same dose as the zinc glutinate lozenges sold in the US. And, it's in lozenge form-- as well as significantly cheaper than the similar product the pharmacy was selling (which the health food store also had).
My conviction that zinc really does help mitigate a cold might be totally psychosomatic, but I don't feel nearly as bad today as I could, so I've decided that the zinc/vitamin C combo that I've been sucking down every few hours since yesterday afternoon is doing what I want it to, largely making it possible that I might be totally recovered by the time my next visitor, my dad, arrives on Wednesday and we head off to more exciting places (which I don't want to do sick). It is in moments of dealing with the mundane, like when I'm congested and sniffley, that I"m reminded it's not easy to actually live abroad. It's England, so everyone speaks English which makes it deceptively seem like it should be easy to manage the everyday banalities like finding cold medicine (or, rather, homeopathic remedies for a cold-- there is Tylenol cold here if I decide I need to mask the symptoms), but nothing is quite the same. It's all just different enough that it takes a bit of work (like reading the labels of every single product that says it contains zinc to find one that may or may not be similar to an American product) to get what you want or need. That, combined with going to holiday celebrations unique to this country do still continue to conspire to remind me I'm very much a foreigner here, even if I do understand and speak the language.
After the Museum of Cocoa and Chocolate, we had a little time to kill, so we wandered through the shops at the Galerie Royale, which sold products at royal prices
The train station should have been the least remarkable part of our trip to Brussels, but as it was interesting in the beginning for the car on the tram rails, it was interesting in the end as well. We had to fill out "landing cards" (a name which makes more sense when traveling by plane then by train) to hand to passport control on our way through security. My dad put down his bag with his medications in it and when he went to pick it up, it was gone. We made a feeble attempt to report this to someone working in the train station, but what was in the bag was valuable only to my dad-- and probably a great disappointment to the thief once he went through it since the most valuable thing in it was the relatively inexpensive camera that my dad never once took a picture with; there was nothing the thief could have sold or used since there was no money, credit cards or passports in the bag and my dad's medications aren't the kind that anyone on the street would want. So, it didn't seem worth missing our train to file an official police report. The bag was probably in a trashcan somewhere before my dad even realized it was gone. Even though my dad handled the loss of his bag with relative calm and grace (after cursing for a minute or so), it wasn't the best way to end a trip to Brussels. So, I'd rather leave it with this image instead...
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Wimbledon! or What does Andy Murray Have to do to get a Statue... or Even a Sign?
It has long been a dream of mine to go to Wimbledon; ideally I would go as a player, but that's a fantasy, not something that's going to happen. More realistically, I would go when The Championships are on-- though it's actually quite difficult to get tickets (as I'll explain). So, I settled, at least for now, for visiting the All England Club in the "off season", post-tournament and post-Olympics. When the big events aren't in progress, there are tours of the grounds which offer a different view than the one ESPN provides during broadcasts.
It's really quite quiet-- there's no one around. Granted, I went in November, so it's not prime tennis season, but it was really quite empty. This despite the fact that we were told at the beginning of our tour that we could take pictures of anything we wanted EXCEPT members of the club, playing or walking around. This, to me, suggested that there would be players in white wandering the grounds. I never saw any-- famous or otherwise. But, this may be because the club members aren't actually allowed to play on the courts used in the tournament (which seems like a lot of wasted, unused space, but it does explain why those courts always look so pristine on camera). Those courts are only used during the two weeks of the Championships. The members have other courts-- 22 grass, if I remember correctly, as well as some hard, some "American" clay (which I assume means Har-Tru), and a few indoor hard courts.
Arriving to Wimbledon for the tour, you enter through gate four which is closest to the Wimbledon Museum and Shops, which makes sense. It's also the gate closest to Centre Court.
This day might be the closest I'll ever be to the lawns of Centre Court, but I was so excited to even see an entry to it, I took a picture with the sign, as did my dad, who went with me.
Our tour started by the statute of Fred Perry, of course.
I would guess that Andy Murray's Olympic Gold at Wimbeldon will eventually earn him a statue as well, but that's no statue there yet. In fact, the hill where spectators sit during The Championships to watch the big screens for Centre Court and Court One (it looks totally different without lots of people and a big screen in front of it)
which TV commentators have taken to calling Murray Mound is still labeled Henman Hill on signs around the grounds. And, the tour guide referred to it as Henman Hill. I'm not sure what Murray has to do to get the All England Club to recognize his accomplishments... I know Henman made it to three semis, and Murray only has one final, but he did win the Olympic gold in singles and the mixed doubles silver. As I learned on the tour, Wimbledon is big on tradition so it may just be that the hill is ingrained for them as Henman Hill, never to change. Or, it may be that since Tim Henman is still involved with the club in youth initiatives and since he's associated with the tennis camps the club is still using his name. But, in terms of being honored for winning, Murray is getting a bit shafted.
The first stop on the tour is actually a walk past the turnstiles where spectators enter during The Championships (and, I'm guessing, the Olympics). During The Championships, there are a few ways to get in-- the two major ways are to get tickets through the lottery or to queue on the day of matches and try to get grounds tickets. The lottery is a strange system; basically, you have to submit a form (I've actually done this once-- I was trying to get tickets for last summer) to the All England Club asking for tickets and this form has to be in by December. From the pool of forms submitted (which I gather is quite a lot), names are picked and tickets are offered for purchase. However, you can't pick the day, you can't pick your seats and you can't pick your court. The offer that is made to you is for two tickets on a specified date, in specifies seats for Centre Court or Courts 1 or 2. You either choose to purchase the tickets offered to you or pass on them altogether. There is no way to pick tickets or ensure a date unless you want to buy tickets as part of a full package that includes airfare and hotel (so, this option really only works for those outside the London area--those who would need to travel). And, these packages are incredibly expensive. Or, you can take your chances, show up at Wimbledon, queue, and hope there are enough tickets for you to get in. If you get on of these tickets, you can go anywhere on the grounds except Centre Court, Court1 or Court 2, which in the first week still means you would get to see quite a lot of good tennis with big name guys.
The other way to get tickets is to buy a debenture. This well ensure you tickets for every day of the tournament for five years at a time-- for the quite reasonable price of about 16,000 pounds for Court One of a little less than 30,000 pounds for Centre Court. Or, as Wimbledon's website puts it:
That's per seat. If you want a friend to be able to go with you, you'll need a second near 30,000 pound debenture for that.
Most of the funding for Wimbledon, for things like court improvements, building (like the retractable roof over Centre Court) comes from these Debentures. It's sort of like being a stakeholder in Wimbledon. And, in 1989, a "white market" was established for these ticket holders, so they can sell their tickets on their own, and for as much as they want. (The Club has a set price for those gotten through lottery or queue, but Debenture tickets can be sold for any price-- and apparently are sold for quite a bit of money.) Debentures can also be sold as a whole package-- so, for example, you could decide after two years that you no longer wanted yours and sell the remaining three years as a whole. They can also be renewed every five years, indefinitely. Because everyone has a spare 30 or 60 thousand pounds lying around every few years...
This actually quite in keeping with the tradition of the tournament however. It was originally started as a fundraiser to fix this:
That's a pony roller-- you can see how it was hooked up in the photo from the sign (though apparently there were a couple years when it was pulled by men, not by horse. I don't know how they hooked the men to it.).
This was first used at Wimbledon in 1872, when the site was actually at a different place, and was used until 1986 when it was finally retired. However, sometime early in its career, it broke and needed to be fixed. So, the club decided to have a tournament, ask for 10 pence for admission to watch the players compete, and used the money from that to raise the funds to fix the pony roller. Really, the whole Championships tradition started with a need to make some money-- and that continues today, using the funds earned at the tournament as a fundraiser to keep the tournament running. Membership itself doesn't bring in much-- I was surprised to find out that it only costs about 500 pounds a year to be a member of the club. So, it's not cost prohibitive to join. It's just that membership numbers are limited, so there's a pretty long waiting list to get in.
The first court to visit on the tour is Court Two-- on the way, you pass one of the outdoor courts (I want to say this is either 13 or 14) with the official Rolex Clock above it. (See how it doesn't quite look like a court without the nets or lines... it also makes the ground look like it's too small to be a full sized court, though I'm sure it is. At least the well manicured lines were visible.)
Court Two is a giant stadium, which is a little surprising. This is the only court which looked bigger in person than it does on TV. Court Two is often referred to as the graveyard court-- it seems to have lots of potential to take down big-name players and I was under the impression that part of it was due to the dimensions, including the relative lack of space between the baseline and the back wall. But, it struck me as quite big with a lot more space than some of the other outer courts have. So, I'm not sure what makes it tricky.
What I really wanted was to be able to walk on the courts-- and maybe bounce a ball a bit (if not hit one) just to see how the bounce was different. But, very disappointingly, on the Wimbledon tour, you are not allowed to walk on the grass, touch the grass, or pull the grass out to take home with you (not that I would have done the third... but I really wanted to do the first two). So, we looked at Court Two, which is in the process of having the grass regrown on it, so it's been seeded and there is a giant heat lamp spread across it to help facilitate the growing-- you can see it in the right of the picture (to the right of me-- I kept taking my pictures in individual stadiums just because I wanted to mark that I at least got close...).
The tour also includes Court One (where I didn't take photos, but look at the one above-- Court One would have looked exactly the same in a picture) and a stop by Court 18, where John Isner and Nicolas Mahut played their famous 3 day, 11+ hour match. It too looks a lot smaller without the net up, especially from side to side.
From Court 18, you walk to the members and players areas, stopping off at the press area so you can pretend to give your own after match interview. I decided I was giving an interview post-win, so I look happy.
There are areas which are devoted only to players during the actual tournament. In fact, Wimbledon goes to quite a bit of trouble to keep the players away from both fans and actual All England Club members. There are dividers between the areas where members can eat (where simple ticket holders can't go) and the areas where players eat and this includes marking of walkways for players only. Having been to other tennis tournaments, I've found it pretty standard to be allowed to ask for autographs from and take pictures of players-- it turns out this is not allowed at Wimbledon. There are designated booths that are set up during the two weeks where players will sit and sign autographs and pose for pictures, but talking to them, asking for autographs, taking pictures, or basically interacting with them at all in non-designated areas is strictly prohibited for anyone. The dining area and lounge designated for club members, however, does offer a nice view of the grounds.
The last stop is Centre Court. To enter it, you walk through a hallway that has the winners boards posted-- it's the secondary set of winners boards, not the ones the players walk past immediately after winning on their way to loft the trophy in front of crowds. But, we were assured they look exactly like those primary ones. That's the men's winners.
And then, you're on Centre Court, which you'll notice looks remarkably like Court Two, with its own set of heat lamps. (Honestly, I don't know if I'm closer to the grounds here or in the picture in front of the tunnel that started this blog, but either way, I didn't get nearly as close to the grounds as I wanted. It made my Centre Court debut a bit disappointing.)
What you can't really tell in the picture is that the scoreboard, which is in the upper corner behind the heat lamp, is still set with the final score from this year's Federer/Murray Wimbledon match-- not the Olympic one which technically came later, but the match from The Championships (so, Federer's win, not Murray's Olympic one). This surprised me since that meant they went to great lengths to put it back up after the Olympics. Apparently, there were lots of great lengths gone to before and after-- everything was changed. For example, all the courts were labeled with the same numbers, but all the signs for them were changed to have the "official" font of the Olympics rather than the font used by the All England Club. The Olympics used different scoreboards, different signs... in fact, different everything, including staff, except for the groundskeepers. The All England Club refused to let another set of groundskeepers in to take care of the grass. But everything else was different.
Centre Court is the end of the guided tour. From there, to continue the Wimbledon experience, is the museum (and the giftshop, where everything is ridiculously overpriced). The museum, however, is well done. It includes historical exhibits that explain how the game, at least with its heritage as a lawn sport, developed from the intersection of real tennis, croquet, and badminton. There are interesting displays like the lockers from the first men's locker room,
early racquet makers and stringing equipment,
the outfits some of the players wore, like the one Maria Sharapova was wearing when she won
photo opportunities like this one that make it look like you're part of the spectator crowd (featuring my dad staring at the exuberant couple)
and lots of racquets through the ages, along with lots of information about the development of the racquet. There is also a really great holographic "conversation" with John McEnroe.
And, of course, it ends with the trophies, kept behind glass.
I couldn't walk on the lawns and I couldn't hold a trophy aloft (not even a fake one), so it wasn't quite the visit I wanted it to be. But, I can still say I walked the grounds of Wimbledon...
It's really quite quiet-- there's no one around. Granted, I went in November, so it's not prime tennis season, but it was really quite empty. This despite the fact that we were told at the beginning of our tour that we could take pictures of anything we wanted EXCEPT members of the club, playing or walking around. This, to me, suggested that there would be players in white wandering the grounds. I never saw any-- famous or otherwise. But, this may be because the club members aren't actually allowed to play on the courts used in the tournament (which seems like a lot of wasted, unused space, but it does explain why those courts always look so pristine on camera). Those courts are only used during the two weeks of the Championships. The members have other courts-- 22 grass, if I remember correctly, as well as some hard, some "American" clay (which I assume means Har-Tru), and a few indoor hard courts.
Arriving to Wimbledon for the tour, you enter through gate four which is closest to the Wimbledon Museum and Shops, which makes sense. It's also the gate closest to Centre Court.
This day might be the closest I'll ever be to the lawns of Centre Court, but I was so excited to even see an entry to it, I took a picture with the sign, as did my dad, who went with me.
Our tour started by the statute of Fred Perry, of course.
I would guess that Andy Murray's Olympic Gold at Wimbeldon will eventually earn him a statue as well, but that's no statue there yet. In fact, the hill where spectators sit during The Championships to watch the big screens for Centre Court and Court One (it looks totally different without lots of people and a big screen in front of it)
which TV commentators have taken to calling Murray Mound is still labeled Henman Hill on signs around the grounds. And, the tour guide referred to it as Henman Hill. I'm not sure what Murray has to do to get the All England Club to recognize his accomplishments... I know Henman made it to three semis, and Murray only has one final, but he did win the Olympic gold in singles and the mixed doubles silver. As I learned on the tour, Wimbledon is big on tradition so it may just be that the hill is ingrained for them as Henman Hill, never to change. Or, it may be that since Tim Henman is still involved with the club in youth initiatives and since he's associated with the tennis camps the club is still using his name. But, in terms of being honored for winning, Murray is getting a bit shafted.
The first stop on the tour is actually a walk past the turnstiles where spectators enter during The Championships (and, I'm guessing, the Olympics). During The Championships, there are a few ways to get in-- the two major ways are to get tickets through the lottery or to queue on the day of matches and try to get grounds tickets. The lottery is a strange system; basically, you have to submit a form (I've actually done this once-- I was trying to get tickets for last summer) to the All England Club asking for tickets and this form has to be in by December. From the pool of forms submitted (which I gather is quite a lot), names are picked and tickets are offered for purchase. However, you can't pick the day, you can't pick your seats and you can't pick your court. The offer that is made to you is for two tickets on a specified date, in specifies seats for Centre Court or Courts 1 or 2. You either choose to purchase the tickets offered to you or pass on them altogether. There is no way to pick tickets or ensure a date unless you want to buy tickets as part of a full package that includes airfare and hotel (so, this option really only works for those outside the London area--those who would need to travel). And, these packages are incredibly expensive. Or, you can take your chances, show up at Wimbledon, queue, and hope there are enough tickets for you to get in. If you get on of these tickets, you can go anywhere on the grounds except Centre Court, Court1 or Court 2, which in the first week still means you would get to see quite a lot of good tennis with big name guys.
The other way to get tickets is to buy a debenture. This well ensure you tickets for every day of the tournament for five years at a time-- for the quite reasonable price of about 16,000 pounds for Court One of a little less than 30,000 pounds for Centre Court. Or, as Wimbledon's website puts it:
"Current issue of 2,500 debentures covering 2011-2015 Championships, each priced at £27,750, is made up of a nominal value of £2,000, premium £22,000 and VAT £3,750."
That's per seat. If you want a friend to be able to go with you, you'll need a second near 30,000 pound debenture for that.
Most of the funding for Wimbledon, for things like court improvements, building (like the retractable roof over Centre Court) comes from these Debentures. It's sort of like being a stakeholder in Wimbledon. And, in 1989, a "white market" was established for these ticket holders, so they can sell their tickets on their own, and for as much as they want. (The Club has a set price for those gotten through lottery or queue, but Debenture tickets can be sold for any price-- and apparently are sold for quite a bit of money.) Debentures can also be sold as a whole package-- so, for example, you could decide after two years that you no longer wanted yours and sell the remaining three years as a whole. They can also be renewed every five years, indefinitely. Because everyone has a spare 30 or 60 thousand pounds lying around every few years...
This actually quite in keeping with the tradition of the tournament however. It was originally started as a fundraiser to fix this:
That's a pony roller-- you can see how it was hooked up in the photo from the sign (though apparently there were a couple years when it was pulled by men, not by horse. I don't know how they hooked the men to it.).
This was first used at Wimbledon in 1872, when the site was actually at a different place, and was used until 1986 when it was finally retired. However, sometime early in its career, it broke and needed to be fixed. So, the club decided to have a tournament, ask for 10 pence for admission to watch the players compete, and used the money from that to raise the funds to fix the pony roller. Really, the whole Championships tradition started with a need to make some money-- and that continues today, using the funds earned at the tournament as a fundraiser to keep the tournament running. Membership itself doesn't bring in much-- I was surprised to find out that it only costs about 500 pounds a year to be a member of the club. So, it's not cost prohibitive to join. It's just that membership numbers are limited, so there's a pretty long waiting list to get in.
The first court to visit on the tour is Court Two-- on the way, you pass one of the outdoor courts (I want to say this is either 13 or 14) with the official Rolex Clock above it. (See how it doesn't quite look like a court without the nets or lines... it also makes the ground look like it's too small to be a full sized court, though I'm sure it is. At least the well manicured lines were visible.)
What I really wanted was to be able to walk on the courts-- and maybe bounce a ball a bit (if not hit one) just to see how the bounce was different. But, very disappointingly, on the Wimbledon tour, you are not allowed to walk on the grass, touch the grass, or pull the grass out to take home with you (not that I would have done the third... but I really wanted to do the first two). So, we looked at Court Two, which is in the process of having the grass regrown on it, so it's been seeded and there is a giant heat lamp spread across it to help facilitate the growing-- you can see it in the right of the picture (to the right of me-- I kept taking my pictures in individual stadiums just because I wanted to mark that I at least got close...).
The tour also includes Court One (where I didn't take photos, but look at the one above-- Court One would have looked exactly the same in a picture) and a stop by Court 18, where John Isner and Nicolas Mahut played their famous 3 day, 11+ hour match. It too looks a lot smaller without the net up, especially from side to side.
From Court 18, you walk to the members and players areas, stopping off at the press area so you can pretend to give your own after match interview. I decided I was giving an interview post-win, so I look happy.
There are areas which are devoted only to players during the actual tournament. In fact, Wimbledon goes to quite a bit of trouble to keep the players away from both fans and actual All England Club members. There are dividers between the areas where members can eat (where simple ticket holders can't go) and the areas where players eat and this includes marking of walkways for players only. Having been to other tennis tournaments, I've found it pretty standard to be allowed to ask for autographs from and take pictures of players-- it turns out this is not allowed at Wimbledon. There are designated booths that are set up during the two weeks where players will sit and sign autographs and pose for pictures, but talking to them, asking for autographs, taking pictures, or basically interacting with them at all in non-designated areas is strictly prohibited for anyone. The dining area and lounge designated for club members, however, does offer a nice view of the grounds.
The last stop is Centre Court. To enter it, you walk through a hallway that has the winners boards posted-- it's the secondary set of winners boards, not the ones the players walk past immediately after winning on their way to loft the trophy in front of crowds. But, we were assured they look exactly like those primary ones. That's the men's winners.
And then, you're on Centre Court, which you'll notice looks remarkably like Court Two, with its own set of heat lamps. (Honestly, I don't know if I'm closer to the grounds here or in the picture in front of the tunnel that started this blog, but either way, I didn't get nearly as close to the grounds as I wanted. It made my Centre Court debut a bit disappointing.)
What you can't really tell in the picture is that the scoreboard, which is in the upper corner behind the heat lamp, is still set with the final score from this year's Federer/Murray Wimbledon match-- not the Olympic one which technically came later, but the match from The Championships (so, Federer's win, not Murray's Olympic one). This surprised me since that meant they went to great lengths to put it back up after the Olympics. Apparently, there were lots of great lengths gone to before and after-- everything was changed. For example, all the courts were labeled with the same numbers, but all the signs for them were changed to have the "official" font of the Olympics rather than the font used by the All England Club. The Olympics used different scoreboards, different signs... in fact, different everything, including staff, except for the groundskeepers. The All England Club refused to let another set of groundskeepers in to take care of the grass. But everything else was different.
Centre Court is the end of the guided tour. From there, to continue the Wimbledon experience, is the museum (and the giftshop, where everything is ridiculously overpriced). The museum, however, is well done. It includes historical exhibits that explain how the game, at least with its heritage as a lawn sport, developed from the intersection of real tennis, croquet, and badminton. There are interesting displays like the lockers from the first men's locker room,
early racquet makers and stringing equipment,
the outfits some of the players wore, like the one Maria Sharapova was wearing when she won
photo opportunities like this one that make it look like you're part of the spectator crowd (featuring my dad staring at the exuberant couple)
and lots of racquets through the ages, along with lots of information about the development of the racquet. There is also a really great holographic "conversation" with John McEnroe.
And, of course, it ends with the trophies, kept behind glass.
I couldn't walk on the lawns and I couldn't hold a trophy aloft (not even a fake one), so it wasn't quite the visit I wanted it to be. But, I can still say I walked the grounds of Wimbledon...
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Guy Fawkes and the Common Cold
A poem to explain the evening:
Remember, remember, the 5th of November
The Gunpowder Treason and plot ;
I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,
'Twas his intent.
To blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below.
Poor old England to overthrow.
By God's providence he was catch'd,
With a dark lantern and burning match
Holloa boys, Holloa boys, let the bells ring
Holloa boys, Holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip Hoorah !
Hip hip Hoorah !
That's basically what Guy Fawkes Day is-- a day celebrating that the plot to blow up parliament was foiled. What happened is a bit more complicated than the poem suggests, though not much.
In 1603, Queen Elizabeth I died and James I took over the throne. He was no more tolerant of the Catholics than Elizabeth had been and the Catholics, who had been persecuted under Elizabeth and were angered that the persecution would continue, were upset. So, 13 men plotted to blow up parliament in an attempt to assassinate the King, and potentially his son who might be there as well, in hopes of overturning the government and getting a ruler more favorable to the Catholics. (To this day, the monarch is always present on the opening day of parliament-- he or she is part of the ceremony which opens it. It's tradition-- and it wasn't even rethought after this event.) Parliament was to open in 1605 on November 5. However, the King got word of the plot. Guy Fawkes was the man in the cellar beneath parliament guarding the 36 barrels of gunpowder that were going to be used to blow up parliament; he was captured, tortured,and executed (though he preempted his own hanging by jumping off the platform and breaking his neck on his own) for treason. The King ordered bonfires be set the evening of November 5 to celebrate his safety. This is where Guy Fawkes night comes from.
It doesn't necessarily happen on the 5th though. It seems to happen on the Saturday closest to Guy Fawkes Day-- this year, November 3. This makes some sense because there's a lot of festivities involved and Guy Fawkes isn't a bank holiday, so if it's in the middle of the week, everyone would still have to go to work and school the next day.
In many ways, Guy Fawkes night is like our Fourth of July-- there are fireworks, there is beer, there are foods being cooked on grills. Of course, it's celebrating the capture of a traitor, not the birth of a nation (some people say they are celebrating the safety of the king; some say they are raising a glass to those who tried to do away with parliament...either way, it's a day named to commemorate at traitor. It would be a little like creating a day in the US to celebrate the capture of the Rosenbergs.). And, it's an outdoor celebration planned for cold, not warm, weather. The Brits might be the only people who would gather outdoors when it's already really cold outside and celebrate for hours.
It was really cold; yet there were thousands and thousands of people in the streets. There have never been so many people waiting at my bus stop at one time.They were all headed to a giant park field where carnival rides, food stands, and drink stands were set up and where fireworks were set off. It was a mob scene (there were reports that some people stood in queue for over an hour just to get in. And, those people had tickets.). This, however, was not where I was headed. Instead, I headed to the Isis Farmhouse (written about at length in a previous blog-- notable for only being able to access by foot or by boat, which meant a 30 minute walk each way, along the Thames, in the dark and cold) for their Guy Fawkes celebration.
I have no idea if the Isis was any more or less traditional than the fair that was happening in the field. It was a smaller affair, though the farmhouse, which is quite small, was still packed. In fact, only a few people could actually hang out inside the pub. So, in that way, it was much like all the other celebrations-- it was outdoors, and outdoors for hours. There were drinks like beer and mulled wine and regular wine (though, not the winter pimms I had been looking forward to- I haven't had winter pimms yet.) and food-- I got lentil and chestnut soup which was really good. There were also sausage rolls, or hotdogs as the Brits kept calling them, though they were much fancier than a hotdog. They looked really good, but the soup was filling, so I never had one.
Rather than carnival rides, the Isis had bands. And, it didn't produce its own fireworks, though there were fireworks displays going off in every direction and they could be seen from the Isis, so that was good. This is different from 4th of July-- there are many, many sets of fireworks. And, they seem to go intermittently for several hours. So, they started around 7 and then kept coming in spurts until about 9:30 or 10. There weren't any "grand finale" explosions the way there are on the 4th; more an intermittent stream of several exploding at one time (or maybe there were "grand finales" but I missed them while I was listening to the bands.)
There were four bands that night. The first one, which was two girls singing (so, more a musical act than a "band") was really good, but the music was kind of slow and haunting. I think was expecting music that was more rousing and patriotic, and this definitely was not.
The music did get more lively as the night went on, but it was never in that patriotic vein. In fact, the next group was an African drumming group. They were amazing though.
Remember, remember, the 5th of November
The Gunpowder Treason and plot ;
I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,
'Twas his intent.
To blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below.
Poor old England to overthrow.
By God's providence he was catch'd,
With a dark lantern and burning match
Holloa boys, Holloa boys, let the bells ring
Holloa boys, Holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip Hoorah !
Hip hip Hoorah !
That's basically what Guy Fawkes Day is-- a day celebrating that the plot to blow up parliament was foiled. What happened is a bit more complicated than the poem suggests, though not much.
In 1603, Queen Elizabeth I died and James I took over the throne. He was no more tolerant of the Catholics than Elizabeth had been and the Catholics, who had been persecuted under Elizabeth and were angered that the persecution would continue, were upset. So, 13 men plotted to blow up parliament in an attempt to assassinate the King, and potentially his son who might be there as well, in hopes of overturning the government and getting a ruler more favorable to the Catholics. (To this day, the monarch is always present on the opening day of parliament-- he or she is part of the ceremony which opens it. It's tradition-- and it wasn't even rethought after this event.) Parliament was to open in 1605 on November 5. However, the King got word of the plot. Guy Fawkes was the man in the cellar beneath parliament guarding the 36 barrels of gunpowder that were going to be used to blow up parliament; he was captured, tortured,and executed (though he preempted his own hanging by jumping off the platform and breaking his neck on his own) for treason. The King ordered bonfires be set the evening of November 5 to celebrate his safety. This is where Guy Fawkes night comes from.
It doesn't necessarily happen on the 5th though. It seems to happen on the Saturday closest to Guy Fawkes Day-- this year, November 3. This makes some sense because there's a lot of festivities involved and Guy Fawkes isn't a bank holiday, so if it's in the middle of the week, everyone would still have to go to work and school the next day.
In many ways, Guy Fawkes night is like our Fourth of July-- there are fireworks, there is beer, there are foods being cooked on grills. Of course, it's celebrating the capture of a traitor, not the birth of a nation (some people say they are celebrating the safety of the king; some say they are raising a glass to those who tried to do away with parliament...either way, it's a day named to commemorate at traitor. It would be a little like creating a day in the US to celebrate the capture of the Rosenbergs.). And, it's an outdoor celebration planned for cold, not warm, weather. The Brits might be the only people who would gather outdoors when it's already really cold outside and celebrate for hours.
It was really cold; yet there were thousands and thousands of people in the streets. There have never been so many people waiting at my bus stop at one time.They were all headed to a giant park field where carnival rides, food stands, and drink stands were set up and where fireworks were set off. It was a mob scene (there were reports that some people stood in queue for over an hour just to get in. And, those people had tickets.). This, however, was not where I was headed. Instead, I headed to the Isis Farmhouse (written about at length in a previous blog-- notable for only being able to access by foot or by boat, which meant a 30 minute walk each way, along the Thames, in the dark and cold) for their Guy Fawkes celebration.
I have no idea if the Isis was any more or less traditional than the fair that was happening in the field. It was a smaller affair, though the farmhouse, which is quite small, was still packed. In fact, only a few people could actually hang out inside the pub. So, in that way, it was much like all the other celebrations-- it was outdoors, and outdoors for hours. There were drinks like beer and mulled wine and regular wine (though, not the winter pimms I had been looking forward to- I haven't had winter pimms yet.) and food-- I got lentil and chestnut soup which was really good. There were also sausage rolls, or hotdogs as the Brits kept calling them, though they were much fancier than a hotdog. They looked really good, but the soup was filling, so I never had one.
Rather than carnival rides, the Isis had bands. And, it didn't produce its own fireworks, though there were fireworks displays going off in every direction and they could be seen from the Isis, so that was good. This is different from 4th of July-- there are many, many sets of fireworks. And, they seem to go intermittently for several hours. So, they started around 7 and then kept coming in spurts until about 9:30 or 10. There weren't any "grand finale" explosions the way there are on the 4th; more an intermittent stream of several exploding at one time (or maybe there were "grand finales" but I missed them while I was listening to the bands.)
There were four bands that night. The first one, which was two girls singing (so, more a musical act than a "band") was really good, but the music was kind of slow and haunting. I think was expecting music that was more rousing and patriotic, and this definitely was not.
They had just about everyone up and dancing (which I tried to film, but it was all in a tight, pretty dimly lit space and everything I filmed was too chaotic to get a real sense of it. But, you can get a sense of the music.)
After the dancing, there was the bonfire. This, to me, seems to be the ultimate Guy Fawkes event since the it's not just a bonfire, but it's also a burning. The effigy of Guy Fawkes is set aflame-- you can sort of see him in the flames.
And, then, people who had brought their own effigies threw them into the fire as well. I didn't quite understand this part though-- I guess the Isis owners had decided to have a theme to the effigy burning, so instead of little Guy Fawkes dolls, they were throwing in dolls of hated literary figures. I had heard that often there is some theme to the Guy Fawkes dolls for individual bonfires (like, they are all dressed in some themed way-- like as cowboys-- or they are all made out of a particular substance- -like corn dolls. And, everyone going to the bonfire would know that theme.), so maybe this made more sense to those who celebrate every year. They also yell things at the burning dolls.
After the bonfire, there were two more bands. One was a group of three guys.
And the other was a group with lots of instruments which was apparently missing the cellist and base player for the evening. I'm not quite sure where they would have fit into the small space anyway.
And, then, people who had brought their own effigies threw them into the fire as well. I didn't quite understand this part though-- I guess the Isis owners had decided to have a theme to the effigy burning, so instead of little Guy Fawkes dolls, they were throwing in dolls of hated literary figures. I had heard that often there is some theme to the Guy Fawkes dolls for individual bonfires (like, they are all dressed in some themed way-- like as cowboys-- or they are all made out of a particular substance- -like corn dolls. And, everyone going to the bonfire would know that theme.), so maybe this made more sense to those who celebrate every year. They also yell things at the burning dolls.
After the bonfire, there were two more bands. One was a group of three guys.
And the other was a group with lots of instruments which was apparently missing the cellist and base player for the evening. I'm not quite sure where they would have fit into the small space anyway.
They did, at one point, play Simple Joys (below) which doesn't matter much to anyone, I'm sure, except that it's from Pippin, which I worked on when I was in high school but which isn't a well known play. So, I was surprised that anyone was doing a cover from Pippin.
There was also a musical rendition of The Jabberwocky, as close to an Oxford anthem as there is since Lewis Carroll taught at Christs Church and lived in Oxford. I didn't have my camera out at that point though.
After the bands were over, everyone was invited to hang around and drink more, but I was fairly zapped of energy at that point-- I had a cold coming on (and a long walk back, in the dark and cold, to the bus that would drop me near my flat to exacerbate the feeling I was getting sick). I had gone a search earlier in the day for Cold-eeze because I knew the cold (which has now settled in as I'm typing this) was coming. It turns out, there is no Cold-eeze in the UK (I don't think it's on shelves anywhere outside the US, though it can be ordered online-- I didn't have that much time to wait since it has to be taken in the first 24 hours of the onset of symptoms.). I tried to explain to the pharmacist (who, herself, seemed to be coming down with a cold) what it is-- she seemed fascinated by it and started asking me all sorts of questions about it (so if there is suddenly a British demand for Cold-eeze, I would like some kind of sales commission). Pharmacists are really knowledgeable and friendly here-- at least in Oxford. Unless an actual prescription is needed, it's really just as helpful to go see one of them as it is to go to a doctor.
There was some kind of dissolving fizzy thing that combined zinc and vitamin C that the pharmacist suggested but which didn't seem like quite the same thing-- and, I wasn't sure how I was going to drink enough of it to overload my system with zinc the way I wanted to. I decided to leave it as a backup plan and went to the health food store; the people who worked there were equally perplexed by my description of Cold-eeze, but showed me what they had by way of lozenges. What I did find is not quite the same thing, but it's a combination of zinc and vitamin C (which the pharmacist kept insisting I really needed, more than the zinc-- actually, what I got was a lot like what the pharmacist recommended but without the problem of having to drink it. And, with a slightly higher dose of zinc.). The zinc is basically in the same dose as the zinc glutinate lozenges sold in the US. And, it's in lozenge form-- as well as significantly cheaper than the similar product the pharmacy was selling (which the health food store also had).
My conviction that zinc really does help mitigate a cold might be totally psychosomatic, but I don't feel nearly as bad today as I could, so I've decided that the zinc/vitamin C combo that I've been sucking down every few hours since yesterday afternoon is doing what I want it to, largely making it possible that I might be totally recovered by the time my next visitor, my dad, arrives on Wednesday and we head off to more exciting places (which I don't want to do sick). It is in moments of dealing with the mundane, like when I'm congested and sniffley, that I"m reminded it's not easy to actually live abroad. It's England, so everyone speaks English which makes it deceptively seem like it should be easy to manage the everyday banalities like finding cold medicine (or, rather, homeopathic remedies for a cold-- there is Tylenol cold here if I decide I need to mask the symptoms), but nothing is quite the same. It's all just different enough that it takes a bit of work (like reading the labels of every single product that says it contains zinc to find one that may or may not be similar to an American product) to get what you want or need. That, combined with going to holiday celebrations unique to this country do still continue to conspire to remind me I'm very much a foreigner here, even if I do understand and speak the language.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
The Haunted Castle
The UK seems a little confused about what holiday season this is-- Halloween was a few days ago, but since it fell in the middle of the week, those festivities seem to be continuing into the weekend, the next "holiday" here is Guy Fawkes Day (which I'll have more to write about tomorrow after I got to the celebration tonight) which isn't until Monday but because that's the work week, it's being celebrated all weekend before, and, of course, Christmas is the next big holiday. I'm guessing that because there's no big holiday before it (since there is no Thanksgiving here) and because Halloween isn't really celebrated as heavily here as it is in the US (there isn't much trick-or-treating), the UK has nothing better to do than start gearing up for Christmas. It's not just the heavy shopping district in London's Oxford Circus. It's the city of Oxford as well, on the streets and in stores.
I took those pictures on Halloween Day. They don't even wait until it's over. I mention this because Oxford seems to have moved into Christmas mode which made going to Warwick Castle on Friday-- two days after Halloween-- a little disorienting. While the castle has flyers advertising Christmas programs, it is still Halloween at Warwick Castle, which is the Haunted Castle... at least until November 4.
(If you enlarge the picture, you can see it says "The Haunted Castle" in light.)
Warwick Castle is located in Warwick (convenient). It's the first castle I've gone to that really felt like a little like a gimicky tourist place. Not that there wasn't a lot of history explained, but it's more like history meets theme park... more so than any other castle I've been to. It's also huge-- there is an offer to buy a two day pass for just a pound more than the one day pass which I couldn't quite figure out until we spent from 10 am to 5 pm there and still didn't quite see everything (we missed the Witches Tower because every time we tried to go we were told it was children's story time, the rose garden because there are no more roses now, and other gardens for the same reason. We also only briefly saw the Mill Room-- we ran out of time and so sort of hurried through it.). There's a lot to do in a pretty compact space, as the map shows.
The entry to Warwick Castle the attraction is different than the entry to Warwick Castle itself. You enter the attraction through turnstiles. But, you get into the castle across a proper drawbridge.
Before getting to the entry, there are Halloween specific things, like the Haunted Hollow (sort of a Halloween maze for kids) and grave markers. This was my favorite grave marker.
(The sun made it a bit difficult to photograph-- it says, "I told you I was sick.")
Warwick Castle is huge. It's too big to get a picture of as one entity. That's one section of it.
I got a lot of it by climbing The Mound and then Guy's Tower (to climb and descend Guy's Tower is 530 steps. Very steep, narrow, uneven, worn steps. The sign only mentions that there are 530 of them. It's a pretty good workout, if that's what you're visiting a castle for.).
From the pictures, you can kind of see what is most historically telling about Warwick Castle, which is that is was built in four distinct time periods, starting from when it was built by William the Conqueror in 1068 when the Anglo-Saxons were invading England, to the 1400s when the castle came under French ownership (which is when Guy's Tower was built-- it's meant to look British on the outside but decorated in the more elegant manner of the French on the inside. That's why, as you can sort of tell from the picture below, the windows are so big-- great for letting in light and being aesthetic; not so great for holding off attackers. It defeats the purpose of a castle as fortification a bit.),
to when it was taken over by Francis Greville, 3rd Baron of Brooke (as opposed to Francis Greville the 8th Baron of Brooke... I don't know how the Brits keep their history straight with all the name repetition.) in the 1600s and then through the next 300+ years when it was occupied by members of the Greville family. (It was bought by the Tussauds Group-- think Madame Tussaud-- in 1978 when it became purely a tourist attraction. That the Tussauds Group owns it does a lot to explain the statues of historical figures that are placed liberally in the displays.) What that means is that different sections of the castle look different-- it's even more pronounced on the inside, especially in the section that was developed int he late 1800s (which is the section to the right in the second picture above). Parts of this varied history come out as you go through different displays. And, it means that the castle served different purposes-- originally it was built with fortification and defense in mind, but as time went on, it became more of a "country house" and that's somewhat evident in the displays of rooms.
You have to schedule times for the two biggest "attractions" at Warwick Castle-- Merlin's Dragon Tower and the Castle Dungeon. We went to Merlin: The Dragon Tower first No pictures are allowed, so this is all you get to see of it: the entryway.
But, in it, visitors hear all about Merlin and how magic and sorcery were forbidden (all while books are magically falling off shelves-- which really seems more like there's a ghost than that magic is happening, but that's ok) and then, they get to meet Merlin's Dragon who, though a video dragon on a screen, interacts with the audience. It can actually hear what members of the audience are saying even though it's quite loud in the room what with all the dramatic music playing. I couldn't figure out where the microphones for hearing the audience were-- it's quite well done.
Between appointed "attraction" times, we toured the State Rooms and Chapel at Warwick. No matter what the time period, good lighting doesn't seem to be a major concern in castles, so some rooms were harder than others to photograph. But, the grandeur is amazing.
You enter into the Great Hall
which has displays of armor and weaponry as well as Calvary horses (which were hard to photograph in anything but shadow because they were directly backlit from the sun).
From the Great Hall, there's the State Dining Hall
which is set in the period of George Guy Greville, Earl of Warwick in the mid-1800s. The room is specifically set in 1858, when Queen Victoria and Prince Albert came to visit. The chandelier is Murano cut glass and was probably hung in the 1700s.
There was the Red Drawing Room
Then, the Green Drawing Room (I love the ceiling)
which the informational sign says is supposed to be more masculine than the Red Drawing room, though I don't see it. It's set as it was in the late 19th century; it's a room for talking business.
There's the Queen Anne Room
set as though for her visit in 1704. This is the bed that was sent ahead of her visit for her to sleep in. Her visit actually got canceled, but the bed remained in the castle. (I want to be important enough that custom beds are sent ahead of me when I visit places. And rich enough to simply then abandon them all over the country and world whether I ever sleep in them or not.)
And, finally, the Blue Boudoir (which was probably a dressing room in the 17th and 18th centuries).
It's also staged in the decorations from the late 19th century, despite the statues of Henry the VIII and his wives (which are a little confusing in this setting, but maybe the Tussauds Group had extras--there is an authentic painting of Henry VIII in the room, but that still doesn't quite explain this particular display.).
From there, we went to the Castle Dungeon. Again, no pictures are allowed inside. There are warnings all over that this is not suitable for children under 10. (And, it's not. Really, 10 might be pushing it.) I do like that Warwick Castle, though clearly a family-oriented attraction, has exhibits that are only meant for adults (especially since as we didn't have small children with us, we weren't allowed into the Witches Tower for story time. It evens things out a bit.). The Castle Dungeon marked on the map with 4 out of 5 witches hats to denote how scary it can be.
It is a lot like going through a haunted house-- a really good one. Things jump out and lights go on and off. Some of the scariest parts are actually walking from room to room-- it's not well lit and the stairs are steep and uneven. I'm amazed no one falls. But, the part that is most inappropriate for kids are the scenes which are acted out that demonstrate horrible forms of torture (like hooking people through any orifice the torturer wanted to use-- think about that a second...), castration devices which did the job pretty slowly, and other gruesome methods. (Read a little further-- I have pictures of one of the contraptions of torture and death from another part of the castle.) I've visited a few castles and palaces now, most of which had some kind of dungeon for holding prisoners and torturing them, but this is the most graphic description of what was done that I've heard so far. The people living in the middle ages were really sadistic-- I'm often appalled at the capacity some people now seem to have for cruelty, but I'm thinking some of them would have been considered pansies in the middle ages. There is also a scene that demonstrates the medical treatments done on those who were afflicted with the Plague (including wrist slashing for the poor and leeches for the rich--both methods of draining the "bad blood" that pretty much resulted in death themselves. Really, it was a lose-lose kind of thing.). Those were pretty gruesome as well-- though not as much so as the descriptions of what the Plague did to the body, like how it caused internal bleeding and rotting of the organs from the inside (which were pulled out of a fake-- though real looking-- body to demonstrate what they would have looked like. This also explains why people smelled so badly before they died of the Plague.). There was also a scene demonstrating beheading (though that was a bit more comical as it used audience participation) and a trial in which everyone put on trial was silenced when trying to mount a defense and then condemned to various horrors. And there was the requisite meeting of a ghost.
After lunch (because who doesn't want to eat after hearing tales of bloody torture and plague), we started exploring the separate sections of the castle, all of which are separate historical displays.
We went into Gaol's Tower, where more instruments of torture and death were on display.
The one on the left is a cage with a skeleton in it; the skeleton is bent because the cage isn't really big enough for a human. The one on the right is particularly horrifying to me-- it's basically a giant iron body cage which was hung from the ceiling (obviously, there would have someone in it) and then the person was simply left there to die and rot. There was also a small hole in the floor which people were locked into and left to die. There were kids touring this part of the castle-- I'm guessing their parents weren't reading the signs to them.
The next display was the slightly more cheery Kingmaker. This section is set as though in the 15th Century when Richard Neville occupied the castle. He imprisoned King Edward IV here and then tried to rule in his name (sort of making himself king...).
It shows the stables, women making clothes, the dining halls and soldiers getting ready for battle (most of whom never returned to Warwick Castle). There were also displays of blacksmiths and whitesmiths (those who mold items out of cold metal rather than hot) and armor making, etc. but those pictures came out too dark to see. What it all demonstrated was how self-sustaining the castle was at this time-- a village unto itself, as most were.
The castle displays (if you walk around the displays in the order they're presented-- you would have to criss-cross a bit to do them in chronological order) jump ahead in history then to the late 1800s when Francis Evelyn "Daisy" Maynard lived there with her husband, Lord Brooke, who inherited the castle and the Earlship in 1893. The display is called Secrets and Scandals-- and focuses on Daisy largely because her sordid history. She had many affairs, which her husband apparently knew about and overlooked, and converted to socialism and then represented the Labour Party at the general election in 1923. She was also apparently a great humanitarian who did a lot of work for charity (though, she showed up for a lot of it dressed in furs and expensive jewelry). The display rooms focus a lot more on her affairs and interactions with members of society than on her politics or charity work.
For example, the above is Daisy standing at the piano listening to her daughter, Marjorie, play. Marjorie is said to be the product of Daisy's affair with Charles Beresford. Daisy also had an 8 year affair with Edward, Prince of Wales as well as an affair with Joe Laycock, "the love of her life," with whom she also supposedly also had a child (it was never clear if she had any children with her actual husband). The signs in all the rooms focus on this kind of information. So, bedrooms depict the guests or relatives who would have stayed in them and the signs discuss the gossip about them.
There are also lots of outdoor things to do. The demonstrations and live action recreations are scheduled throughout the and include a pretty cheesy, choreographed duel, the story of the sword in the stone, historical tours (which is where I learned a lot of how the castle was built in stages and about how, though methods for launching a siege were described, Warwick Castle itself was never really the victim of siege. Mostly, people just kept handing it over when asked/tricked into it. Or, it was given away as people died off.), and the birds of prey.
Birds of prey included a baby vulture named Ringo-- he's really only a few months old.
He flew around and ate, what I think were, dead mice as a reward.
There was also a bald eagle.
And, there's an owl, which apparently flew at the noon demonstration, but not at the 2:30 one we saw.
There's a birds of prey viewing area, separate from the demonstration arena, that has a bunch of birds, largely eagle varieties. It's sort of a look-but-don't-touch-thing.
If you wander around outside enough, you come across random events, like the archer, who was there all day long shooting a longbow (though not like the one used in the middle ages. It was lighter. The ones from the middle ages were massive and very heavy. According to the archer, you can tell from the skeletons just how brutal it was to have to use one because those who did have rounded and worn away shoulder bones.).
You will also come across the Headless Horseman (though maybe that's only for Halloween?)
and a man throwing rats (which I thought was going to turn into some kind of carnival game that people could pay to play, but it never did. He was the only one allowed to throw rats.).
The final demonstration of the day was the trebuchet. I got a still photo of it, but I couldn't get video, mostly because we watched it from the top of Gaol's Tower (which is part of the 530 step climb I mentioned early in the post-- it's largely the way down, though to go down, there were still some steps to go up) so we were too far away for video to work.
Basically, the trebuchet throws a large, flaming iron ball quite a distance. It was used to throw large flaming iron balls over the walls of castles during a siege. I'm sure in the middle ages those who worked the machines cheered when their giant balls of flame went over the walls; today, a bunch of people run towards it after its landed to put out the fire they've set in a field.
By 5 pm, the sun has gone down and it's pretty cold out at night now that it's November (it was really cold on top of Gaol's Tower watching the trebuchet-- the wind was brutal up there), so we left, even though the bus wasn't returning to Warwick to take us back to Oxford until about 7:30.
Warwick Castle was supposed to be spookier at night, which might have been worth staying for, but all I saw happening was the addition of multi-colored lights hitting the walls, which didn't seem too spooky. And, seven hours of wandering around a castle is about all the brain can take.
We wandered around the town (which the Warwick visitor guide describes as bustling even though none of that bustle was in evidence anywhere other than the castle--it seemed pretty deserted) until we found the Thomas Lloyd Pub, which is in keeping with my attempt to stop in a pub in every city I go to (though the choice was largely motivated by the prices being reasonable. Warwick is not the place to go if you want reasonably priced restaurants. Most seemed priced to take advantage of tourists leaving Warwick Castle.).
partially so I would know why I was taking a picture of a field with some sheep (you can get quite close to them, but not too close or they run away-- my students kept trying to get close enough to pet or hug them, which never worked. Sheep can be surprisingly fast when they don't want to be hugged.)
and partially because the Brits have got to be the only people who see a castle where there is nothing but grazing ground left. It is possible to see how the hill was developed as a fort; the hill indentations make it "clear".
And, it is a pretty high point, so obviously a good defense point. Not quite as exciting as I was expecting though (I do still think it's funny that a vast expanse of land is a "castle." There are a lot of actual castles and palaces in England-- I wouldn't think they would need one more...)
From "the castle" we went back down the hill and then climbed up Dragon Hill, where St. George is said to have slew the dragon.
(There is also a picture of me, with the White Horse in the background, standing on top of Dragon Hill, but by that point I was soaked and I look like a wet rat... so it's not on this blog.) Because of its proximity to the White Horse, there is one theory that the White Horse is actually a representation of the dragon St. George killed, but I think if that's true, it means St. George just killed a really mean, large horse and that doesn't have the same ring to it.
We left Uffington and went for tea at Peter's house (the faculty member at Brooke's who planned all the fabulous early excursions and who teaches the British Heritage and Culture course--though that is a really reductive description of all that he does. He drove us all to Uffington.). I am starting to get the British obsession with tea; I don't drink it much when I'm in the US (I think of it as the thing I drink when I have a cold), but there is something comforting about it after a dreary, cold day (and, since dreary cold is pretty normal here, that does make it an every day staple).
Saturday, however, the sun came out-- just in time for me to go on the tour I had booked to Blenheim and Cotswold (really, southern Cotswold-- it's a pretty large area). (As a side note, I was thinking the other day about words it's easy to pick up and words that are not-- I've picked up using book, instead of reservation, really easily. I say it without thinking-- which makes me wonder if I'll keep using it when I return to the US. On the other hand, I have to consciously plan in my head before I ask someone where the toilets are-- it's the word most commonly used for the restroom here [restroom would be a lounge; bathroom is a room that actually has a tub in it]. As an American, it still feels rude to ask for the toilet-- even though it's the word on the signs and the word everyone here uses.) It's a two part tour-- so most of the people on the tour arrived after Blenheim Palace (which I think was a mistake...that's really the best part). I was at Blenheim and in Woodstock, the town where the Palace is, with a lovely couple from Oregon (there are a lot of tourists in Oxford-- it's a large part of the economy. This does make me think that continuing to do tourist things, which I really want to to, doesn't leave much chance for meeting locals.).
Before we went to the Palace, we stopped off at Winston Churchill's grave.
It's clear people visit it regularly, especially factions of the Danish (the red ribbon in front is Danish military)-- they have their own celebratory "monument" across the sidewalk from his grave.
Churchill is buried at Blandon Church. His grave is around the back, so you can't see it in the picture of the actual building (though you can see the lovely blue, cloudless sky So wonderfully sunny and warm that I didn't care that I had set off my own again. It also made me realize how grey and gloomy has become the norm in the past few weeks.).
Blenheim Palace is where Winston Churchill was born-- it belongs to those in his family line. It's astonishingly big.
This is yet another place where pictures aren't allowed inside, so I have none. I really wanted to take a picture of the framed invitations to Charles and Diana's wedding that are on display (the Palace is still lived in at some times of the year, so, like Highclere, there are framed photos of the current Duke and Duchess as well as these kinds of more recent artifacts on display-- most of them are, like at Highclere, in frames on tables rather than hung on the walls). The invitations are really plain-- I would have expected that the invitation to the wedding of Charles and Di would have been ornate and royal looking. Instead, they kind of look like something that could be quickly produced in a word document (I'm sure they weren't; in fact, I'm sure they were quite expensive. But, it's hard to tell by looking at them.). There is a self guided tour of the downstairs state rooms (it is possible to take a guided tour, but they set off when a large enough group gathers, not at set times, and the docents allow the groups to get quite big which makes it hard to hear the guide, so it's not really worth joining one. There are signs around.) and then a "ghost-led" audio tour in the upstairs rooms which explains the history of the Churchill family (including how they lost the name and then gained it back-- the Churchill named had died out because at one time, there was only a female heir and she had her husband's name, but one of the later Duke's applied to have it restored as his name.) and is led by the ghost (there are videos in every room with her apparition) of a woman who served the first Duchess to live at Blenheim Palace. It was a little cheesy-- I wish I could have taken pictures. Every room had representative models of historical figures, like the first Duchess (Sarah) to live in the Palace and those figures had their backs facing those who walked in the rooms. They would then be positioned towards mirrors, and so when they were "speaking" the faces of actors, dressed like the figures, would appear on the screens of the mirrors. And, as those actors sighed or pretended to look at something off to the side or looked down to read letters, the figures in front of the mirrors moved as well (it was all a little disconcerting at the same time that is was fascinating, especially since the mechanical devices moving the figures made noise that could be heard over the dialogue).
The one interior I did manage to take a picture of was the chapel. I'm not sure if I was supposed to or not, but there was no sign saying no photography and no docent around to stop me.
The monument to the right in the picture is a tomb that Sarah had built for her husband to commemorate him-- it's truly huge. And commemorative.
The grounds around the Palace are also lovely. There is the Italian Garden, which I think is even prettier as the foreground to the back of the castle.
It's kind of the "back yard." (Actually, I guess that's the side wall of the Palace, so it's really the side yard.)
From Blenheim Palace, we (I had met back up with the couple from Oregon) headed into Woodstock to have lunch at a pub. The walk there, which is largely along the road that leads into the Palace, is lovely too since it's alongside the Queen's Pool (I love that it's called a pool...).
It's oddly nice to be able to order a beer with lunch and be among the masses, not one of the minority. Beer, for the most part, has a significantly lower alcohol content than in the US, so maybe that has something to do with it, but I've noticed a lot of people have wine (or beer) at lunch here. And, it was a leisurely Saturday tour through some more rural parts of England (not really a leisurely lunch though because there wasn't much time for it before the van arrived to collect us-- we all had figured lunch was the most boring part of the day and so left barely enough time, especially since The Star Inn was packed) and a gorgeous day out, having a beer seemed like the thing to do. It was called Blond something-- incredibly light in color and then, again, surprisingly hoppy considering what I expect from a beer that looks that light golden in the pint glass. (Maybe I'll start taking pictures of my beer- that might help.)
group of 13 of us went on to tour Cotswold. We went first to Minster Lovell where there is a church and the ruins of a 15th century manor (more like what I thought I was going to see in Uffington.).
The Church, St. Kenelm's, has obviously been upkept and restored. There's the tomb of Baron Lovell is in the church-- I did learn that, although he is dressed to represent that he was in the military, the fact that his hand is not on his sword most likely indicates that he died of natural causes, not in battle. The hand on the sword would mean he died in action. I've learned other interesting facts about tombs along the way (like that what their feet is propped on matters...it says something about station in life), so I may emerge from this whole adventure able to "read" tombs, at least British ones. It does make them more interesting to look at-- which is good, because there are a lot of them (though, this is the only one in this particular church-- it's not clear whether he's actually buried here though).
The manor, however, has not. It's been left in its partially torn down, dilapidated state, though there is a sign depicting what it would have looked like.
Now it looks like this.
And this.
That's the window in the "sun room."
The whole place is so run down because after the family was run out and the manor was abandoned, locals from the town started showing up and carting off the stone that made up the walls of the house to use to build their own homes. At some point (I think we were told exactly when but now I forget-- these all day kind of excursions and tours are amazing, but at some point, there is an information overload), the place was declared a historical site and protected, so the stone stealing stopped. You can still see remnants of how amazing it must have been (though, where it's still intact, it's also dark, so you can't really see the way the ceilings were constructed).
And, the view of it and the church together give a nice sense of the grandeur.
From Minster Lovell, we went to Burford, a staging post for many centuries. Apparently Kate Moss and Rupert Murdoch's daughter, Elisabeth Murdoch, live in Burford, but I didn't see them. We did pass Elisabeth Murdoch's "house" (it cost something like 6.5 million pounds) but it's hidden behind a very large gate and wall, so even though it's close to the main road, you can't see it. We visited St. George the Baptist Church
and went inside, though the churches (inside and out) have started blending together for me. They're all lovely and magnificent and the stained glass is always gorgeous. I'm just glad I'm labeling them all when I save them onto my computer or I wouldn't be able to tell them apart.
We also had time to wander around the town for a few minutes (still no signs of Kate Moss or Elisabeth Murdoch and family). There's a fabulous store called Madhatter Books-- it sells hats and books.
And, there is an inn covered in the leaves and vines that seem to decorate a lot of houses in the Cotswold.
It's especially gorgeous since the leaves have started turning. Our tour guide told us what this is called-- it's a specific plant. But, I'm terrible with plants on a good day, and especially awful at remembering names after so many hours of information, so I've forgotten. I'm guessing that it's not harmful to the limestone that a lot of these buildings are constructed in since it's everywhere.
There are lots of sheep in Cotswold. It's a wool center-- that's what its economy is based on. So, we went to Filkins, a village with a woolen weaving center and a historical display showing the process of how wool once went from shearing to loom product-- by hand.
From front to back, there's sheared wool, processed wool (that is now thick thread) to the loom. There is also a small tea shop at the weaving center, so we had tea. I think I was the only one who had a scone-- it was hot out of the oven which was a huge bonus but served only with jam and not (surprisingly!) with clotted cream, and so still not as good as Oxford's Vault and Gardens (tea and scones are far more fun to review than yogurt-- I did start off the day with butterscotch toffee yogurt, but I can't even remember what it tasted like, so I'm thinking it was totally unremarkable. Then again, I did have to wake up pretty early to meet the tour, so maybe I was just to sleepy to notice.).
From Filkens, we ended the day in Bibury to see the weaver's cottages.
They're charming, located along the River Coln. They were converted from an old barn in the 17th century for the weavers.
It's not a particularly big river, but I'm guessing served its purpose for transport. There are rainbow trout in it-- supposedly there is a trout farm nearby, but we didn't see that. We did continue to see the sun (as you can tell from this picture). I had arrived in the morning with a heavy coat and an umbrella, prepared for all weather possibilities and didn't need either all day (well, I needed the coat when we got back to Oxford-- once the sun goes down, it's chilly no matter how clear the skies).
And, since it was close to 7:30 by the time I got back to my neighborhood, and way to late to start cooking, I stopped at the good pizza place, Cafe Corsica (though, more recognizable as the pizza place since "Pizza" is written in big letters on the window and easier to see than the name of the restaurant) and got take away pizza-- with the added bonus that there is some left for lunch today.
You can also see the mad rush to get out of the way of the horses since there really is no warning that they are coming right at those who are watching. I recommend this over going to Buckingham Palace-- it's smaller, but at least I got to see it rather than the tops of people's heads.
We did go to Westminster Abbey after this--there are very few pictures however since photos aren't allowed to be taken in the actual Abbey. This is the courtyard view of the building.
What is amazing is the history that is simply demonstrated by all the tombs located there--many of the royalty who have ruled England are buried there and the audio guide gives a good description of why their tombs are placed where they are (and why they are grouped together) as well as why they are ornamented they way they are. There's also the Hall of Poets which is dedicated to just about everyone who has lived in England, published and died even though only some of they are actually buried in the Abbey.
She'd made all of these in a couple of hours.
And, then, it takes days to go through the whole firing, painting, glazing, etc. process, but this is what they end up looking like when they're finished.
From the China Museum, we headed up to Coalbrookdale to see the Museum of Iron, which is where all the iron was produced.
These are the remains of the factory (the cars ruin it a bit since they are obviously not original-- but it was hard to get a shot of the whole thing from anywhere other than the back of the parking lot). There's also a part of the museum with exhibitions of things made from iron, like the table which was made for exhibition purely to demonstrate what craftsmen in the 1800s could do with iron.
There were also more practical exhibits there, like stoves, both old and modern.
The ones on the left in the lower picture are Asa stoves-- they're modern even though they look old fashioned. I want one (I've been told they cost about 5000 pounds. I'm also starting to wish I had a pound symbol on my keyboard.).
After the museum, we went to the Darby house. The Darbys ran the iron factory for generations. They lived on a hill above the factory.
We were allowed to take pictures inside the house (without flash), so this is what 19th century interiors looked like.
There was also a medicine chest encased in glass (which made it really hard to take a picture of-- it's got a lovely reflection of me in it).
It didn't come out in the picture, but all the bottles are labeled-- I wish it had come out because some are labeled as medicine and some are labeled as poison because, I guess, sometimes you want people to get better and other times you just want to finish them off. There was also a room filled with clothes of the times to play dress-up in. So, my students did.
Last, we visited the Quaker Cemetery, which is basically the Darby family cemetery. I think the converted to something other than Quakerism eventually. Mostly, it's interesting because it's one so plain and two built on such a steep hill (I don't think the picture does the steepness justice). There are more people buried there than the markers would indicate. And, I was told the tree is a redwood, which seems pretty out of place.
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Thus ends the planned excursions en mass with the students (though certainly not the end of traveling around for me-- or them, I'm sure). So, I'm sort of back to the questions of "living" in Oxford (rather than being a tourist). That means making myself meals (we've been fed pretty well on all these excursion days) other than yogurt for breakfast (For those keeping up, I have tried a few new flavors. I'm not a big fan of hazelnut-- at least in that context. It just doesn't seem right as a yogurt flavor. I did finally find something other than plain Greek yogurt-- coconut. It's pretty good. I'm becoming partial to rhubarb flavored yogurt, which I'm pretty positive I'm going to have a hard time finding when I get back to the US-- we should get it there though. It's surprisingly good.). I'm trying to figure out how to make the heating work in my flat (it was in the 30s here Wednesday night-- and I was quite cold by the time I got back from the ER since I was dressed appropriately for the day, but not the nighttime since I was expecting to be back home by about 6.). The landlord's son came by-- apparently it's not that I don't know how to work the heat, it's that the heater in the living room doesn't work. (There is no central heating-- every room has an individual heater so that I just heat the room I'm in.) I think I'm getting a space heater for the living room (or, I guess, a working heater if someone can figure it out.). At least it's not just that I'm a dumb American who can't work a heater; it legitimately doesn't work (or, might be on a timer so that it only works at night...though I tried to turn it on after 9 pm on Wednesday, so I think it just doesn't work)-- so that makes me feel better. Instead, I just run the risk of being a difficult tenant (which somehow seems better).
And, that was on a miserable day (as you can tell from the sky)-- though people kept saying that it has been much windier at Stonehenge than it was when we were there, which is hard to imagine. (I did have one of my students take a picture of me at Stonehenge since, again, I don't think I'll be going back, but it's awful-- not her fault. It was so windy, I don't know that anyone got an attractive picture there.) Again, this is sort of in the middle of nowhere (though, easier to get to since it's such a longstanding tourist draw-- a new and bigger tourist center is currently being built)-- which does make the fact that these stones were brought here thousands of years ago really amazing, as is the fact that whoever did this managed to get the stones into the ground (1/3 of each standing stone is below ground) and lift the stones on top of one another (some of the stones weight as much as 3 elephants as our printed fun-facts guide told us).
From Stonehenge, we went to Salisbury, which I hopefully will get back to. It's a really cute town
but we only really had time to go to the Cathedral. The gate in the picture leads into the section where the Cathedral is. There's a matching one at the other point of entry-- those gates are locked from 10:30 pm to 7 or 7:30 am every day. Those who live inside the Cathedral walls have keys to get in an out of the gate. Salisbury Cathedral was built over 38 years starting in 1220 (repair work is being done on the end).
It's remarkable because it was built in one continuous process, so the architecture is pretty consistent. There's a model of the way it was built, though it does make more sense in person.
Most other cathedrals were added onto over the years, so the architecture style changes as additions were made. It's also where one of the only four known copies of Magna Carta (no one ever says "the" in front of it) is housed (again, I wasn't allowed to take a picture). As important as it is that this Cathedral has one of four copies (and the best preserved one of those four), it's housed in a really dreary, plain room that's kind of dark. It's dark so that light doesn't ruin the document, but I'm not sure why the room itself is so plain-- it's housed in what was the Chapter Room where monks read chapters from books by/about saints, so maybe that's why it's so austere, but it's a stark contrast. Salisbury Cathedral proper is gorgeous .
This is the "back" of the Cathedral, though it's where visitors enter which makes it feel like the front.
This is the Trinity Chapel which is the front of the Cathedral. The lowest stained glass panels were created and put in in 1980-- it's called the Prisoners of Conscience window. There's an Amnesty International candle that always burns in the corner of the Trinity Chapel. I just like the continuing attention to human rights as a part of the tradition at the Cathedral. There are also tombs located all around the Cathedral.
Most interesting about them is that there are sculptures of the people entombed in them on top. This is William Longespee. He died in 1226. I only took the one picture (he's the one member of royalty entombed there-- you can tell he's royalty because his feet are propped on a lion). They're not really famous people...not ones I recognize anyway. We went to Evensong, mostly to hear the choir sing and to give the students that kind of experience. It was really nice-- my favorite part is that as part of the prayers which are sung, there is still a verse that asks G-d to save the monarchy and to encourage the royalty to hear the words of the people when they need the monarch (that's the spirit of the words, not the actual wording). Then we had dinner at a local college (with food that was much better than anything I was ever served when I was in college--or grad school) and drove back to Oxford.
I was dead tired, and still managed to get sucked into the US Open finals match and stayed up until 2:30 watching. I had to watch online-- I'm not even sure that it was being shown live here, but if it was, the channels I get on cable weren't showing it. (I think it was on the Sky network, which I think is what was streaming online; Sky network-- for which there are multiple channels, kind of like ESPN-- isn't part of the cable subscription I have.) I do want to see a print newspaper sometime today to see how big a deal it is that Murray won-- I'm not sure if it finished too late here to make the papers. Today is sort of a lazy day though-- I'm working up the energy to really clean the flat for the first time (instead of just wiping down surfaces like I do every day) and to go run errands.
It's the first really free day I've had in what feels like a while (though, probably only a little more than a week) and then starting tomorrow, it's back to the manic tourist pace and administrative stuff with students for another week. The fact that it's cold out (though not raining at the moment) -- usually as I blog, I sit at my kitchen table with the doors to the patio open so I can enjoy the weather, but I only lasted about 2 minutes with the doors open today before I decided I was delusional and should just admit that I'm cold and not enjoying the weather (as much as I love having the doors open)-- and that this is the first time I've had to really do nothing (even though I have stuff to do-- just not scheduled) is making me lazy. But, I guess that's how it would be if I were at home in this situation,so that kind of makes me feel like I'm really "living" here (even if living is defined as still being in my pajamas even though it's early afternoon here).
So, this is Open Doors weekend all around England-- for this one weekend every year, many, many sites that are normally closed to the public or charge money to get in are open and free. It's a weekend of the locals acting like tourists, so, walking around in comfortable, practical shoes with the ubiquitous bottle of water and snapping pictures of everything was the norm for today; I actually fit in for a day (the students were all taken into London on Saturday so I only had one day to run around like a touring maniac to get to sites. I'll get to London soon.)
Because it's Sunday, sites opened later which was nice for me really-- I needed a morning to sleep in. I'm so excited to be going to all of these places, and going for free on a coach (any bus that leaves the city) that's been hired just for our group from High Point, but these are some early mornings and long days; I'm not a morning person and I have to get up earlier than I normally would so that I can catch the bus on time (the one downside to not having a car-- something I'm glad of because I really like public transportation and I think I'd be dead by now if I were actually driving around in Oxford, where drivers are crazy!-- is that I'm at the mercy of the bus schedule, specifically the Oxford Brookes U1 which is the bus I can ride for free which, since school is not yet in session, does not run very often). I had a list of things I wanted to see and I saw all but one-- I wanted to see Merton College, mostly because that college is supposed to have the first "real" tennis courts, which are not like the tennis courts we know now, but the ones that the first version of the game was played on. I missed the demonstrations of the game that were being performed on Saturday-- I was just hoping someone at the college would have let me go down to them today (I'm not sure I would have been allowed to though since the courts weren't listed as part of what was open.... I'm telling myself I wouldn't have gotten to see them.) I took way too many pictures (if it's possible to do such a thing), especially of Magdalen College which has to be the most gorgeous campus in the world.
There's a common misconception that Oxford University is an actual campus--it's not. It's the whole of the most of the colleges in Oxford. So, Magdalen College is one college that is a part of Oxford University. If you want to go to Oxford, you apply to both the university overall and the particular college you want to attend. (Personally, I would go to Magdalen College for the campus alone.)
These are different views from around campus. Much of it was built in the later 1800s, after much of the original college was demolished in 1828. However the bell tower:
is the original structure from 1480. There's also a chapel at Magdalen College-- it had some really gorgeous stained glass panels but it was so sunny out (which I'm starting to think is the typical weather here since I have yet to have a day that wasn't sunny and in the 70s) that they were difficult to take pictures of. Also, I had to take them at a strange angle because the chapel proper was blocked off. These two photos I was taking at a strange angle through the gate.
The chapel entry was easier to photograph but the sunlight was posing the same kind of problem with the stained glass.
Next, I went to Queen's College-- prettier chapel, but the grounds weren't quite as impressive as Magdalen. Queen's College wasn't on my initial itinerary-- though I'm glad I went. I walked by it on my way to Christ's Church via the covered market (where I wanted to get a milkshake from Moo-Moos because I have yet to have one, but the line was really long). Christ's Church was only open from 2-4 today, so I had some time to kill on my way there. (All of this stuff is located really close. The whole of Oxford is really a college campus with shops and restaurants thrown in. Lots of shops and restaurants, to be fair.)
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That Lewis Carroll is associated with Christ's Church is something they are really proud of. However, it is also known as the site at which Harry Potter was filmed. This is partially true. The dining hall was the inspiration and model for the dining hall at Hogwart's-- it wasn't actually used in the movie (which most people seem not to know). Hogwart's dining hall was produced on a green screen.
The stairs leading into the dining hall, however, were actually used for the movie filming. So, even though I know those who work at Christ's Church have a sort of derision about those who come to see the Harry Potter site, I asked strangers to take a picture of me standing on the steps.
And then, after working my way back out of the courtyard, it was after 3 and too late to set off for Merton College and the "real" tennis courts, so I ate a sandwich on the lawns in front of Christ's Church and headed to Carfax Tower (not a place where you check the history of your car, though I had to check the name just to make sure I had it right because all I can think of is the American association) to get a view of the city from above. It's 99 very narrow, and pretty dark (or I would have taken a picture) steps to the top. It's so narrow that you can't pass people-- if someone is trying to come down while you're going up, one of you has to back up (or down). The view from the top is lovely. The first one is a shot down High Street. Carfax Tower is at the top-- on most days, it's also the site from which you could buy a ticket for an open air bus tour around Oxford. It's really, really touristy-- but it was free to climb today and the view was worth doing something kitchy.
I have to say, this was a lot to do in just a few hours. I got myself an ice cream at D&Gs after the tower-- I've been told it's the best ice cream in Oxford. It was good-- it's my first ice cream in Oxford, so I can't say for sure if it's the best. It does allow customers to petition for ice cream flavors. Customers literally create a petition for a flavor and there is a book at the front of the store-- if enough people sign the petition, they'll make the flavor. I think there's a petition flavor or two a day. (Today's wasn't really interesting-- it was vanilla with chunks of some candy bar in it. There were some interesting ones in the book though.) And, I headed home.
Partially I'm so tired because we did a whirlwind tour of London yesterday-- seriously, less than 4 hours in the city. The idea was to take the students in and give them some sense of bearing so that they have a place to start when they go back on their own (and, they will. Or they should. It's about an hour by bus and perfectly doable as a day trip since the bus runs pretty much 24 hours a day.). Much of our time was spent at the changing of the guard, which in my mind was a waste of time. And, because the Paralympics were in its last couple days, and it's Open Doors in London as well, so, there were lots of tourists AND many, many streets were shut down for the marathon being run today, Buckingham Palace was a madhouse. It wasn't just me-- our guide declared the whole exercise a disaster. This wasn't my first time at the changing of the guard, though-- I didn't really like it much the first time either. And, here's why.
This is what most people see. So not worth it. The best part, which I could only see, not hear, was when the band played Abba-- starting with Dancing Queen which showed a nice sense of humor. This was the best view I got all day:
We happened to be crossing the street, across from Buckingham Palace (view below) when they returned, not playing. They were just walking back.
After the changing of the guard, we went to lunch at a cafe across the street from Westminster Abby, looked quickly at the outside of Westminster Abby (so quickly, that getting a decent photo was difficult)
and went around the block past parliament buildings (though, this photo is from afar, as we were walking to lunch. I like it best.).
Then, other things happen and the feeling of disorientation returns, though sometimes in a good, surprising way. Like, grocery shopping-- nothing is entirely different, and yet nothing is quite the same. For example, buying yogurt feels complicated-- it's all yogurt and I get that, but what I really want (since I keep having to rush out of my flat in the morning and don't have time to be an adventurous eater in the morning) is Greek yogurt in a variety of flavors. But, I don't think Greek yogurt is all the rage here the way it is in the US-- there are only a couple brands and really only plain or honey to choose from (I did see one offered in blueberry). By contrast, the regular yogurt offerings are numerous and come in flavor varieties we don't have in the US-- like timperley rhubarb and bramley apple and blackberry, as well as scottish raspberry (I have no idea how these might differ from other raspberries, but I will find out sometime in the next few days). So, I've gone back to non-Greek yogurt...but have interesting flavor choices in my future. (While Greek yogurt is not very popular here, Activia is-- there are more varieties in that brand name than I've ever seen, both in flavor and in the sort of digestive service the yogurt is supposed to provide. I didn't really check that out though...maybe next time.) And, then there's using the gym, which I did for the first time on Wednesday. The gym itself is packed-- not with people (I'm using the campus gym and the semester doesn't start for a couple of weeks), but with machines. The treadmills are pushed right up against one another-- no room to walk between them. Same with all the other cardio and weight machines. I chose to use an elliptical located at the edge of a bunch of machines, located right next to a circle of bikes (the bikes are placed in circles so 5 or 6 riders could ride facing one another-- which I guess is social) so that at least there wasn't anything crowded on one side of me. And, it was a cybex machine, which I know-- excitingly, it seemed to work like the ones I'm used to. So, I set it at 15, which is the setting I start at in the US. And then, I struggled. It was really hard-- and I was feeling terrible about myself for a while (and forcing myself to continue struggling because, really, it's only been about a week since I was last in a gym and there was no excuse for this), until about 35 minutes in when it finally occurred to me that 15 in the UK is indicative of kilograms, not the pounds I'm used to thinking in, so I had started at 35 pounds. It made me feel like a dumb American; it also made me feel pretty good about myself because it's amazing how many calories (which I assume are the same the world round) I burned starting with about 20 pounds more resistance than I'm used to.
The next week and a half of my life is a combination of being touristy as I go with the students on excursions and being the "adult" in charge. They were led on a brief tour of Oxford today, so I got to see some things I hadn't seen yet:
This is at the Bodleian Library, which I have been to already, though not with extras from the next Sherlock Holmes film wandering around it.
This is the Tower of Architectural Orders, which is also at the Bodleian but I didn't know what it was last time I was wandering around. Each level is representative of a different period of architecture, ascending upward in historical order.
This is one of the entryways to the covered market, which we passed through quite quickly. I didn't even have time to find Moo-Moos, which is supposed to have fabulous milkshakes (I did see it located on a map though, so I can find it when I go back).
These are a variety of views of Christ's Church, one of the Colleges at Oxford University, but more recently famous for being the site of filming for the Harry Potter movies-- the dining hall was replicated using a green screen however. The dining hall scenes weren't actually filmed here (though most people who don't live in Oxford seem to think they were-- some even show up in costume to try to "act out" those moments themselves).
That's the back patio-- I was going to take pictures of the chalk boards on the walls that talk about the tavern's connections to famous literature, like Hardy's Jude the Obscure, and famous people, like Bill Clinton (it's rumored to be his favorite hangout in Oxford) but it was too dark. I'm hoping I can find my way back though. This is where the entrance is:
There's an alley way right before the arch, with a sign you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it (though for someplace that seems really difficult to find-- you really wouldn't know it was there unless you knew it was there-- it was amazingly crowded). Fortunately, it's right near the Bodleain Library (which is the building beyond the arch), so at least there's a pretty famous and visible landmark to guide me back. It's much easier to see and appreciate (and universally recognize) from the other side of the arch.
I need to try more beer there (and other places...hence the need for a gym. I also need to avoid sounding like I'm an alcoholic.), mostly so I can discover what I actually like to drink here. Beer tastes really different here than it does in the US-- but it's hard to describe how it's different now that it's the next day and I don't have the beer in front of me anymore. I normally favor darker beers in the US, but the one dark beer I tried at The Turf Tavern was pretty sweet and probably my least favorite. Surprisingly, I think I liked the lightest colored beer best-- which actually seemed a bit heavier than the darkest one. I also tried what looked like it would be a red ale (I need to start writing the names of these things down... some of them have really great names) but was nothing like what I would expect a red ale to be. I think that's what's strange-- it's not that the beer isn't good. It is-- but it doesn't taste at all like what I would expect based on appearance. There's a beer festival (I think as part of Heritage Days) at a pub (that brews its own beer) in my neighborhood this weekend that I may try to go to (the weekend is a bit packed because all the High Point students arrive tomorrow )-- I'm wondering if the actual brewing process is different.
I also still need to try fish and chips here... (the whole gym thing seems more and more imperative, even considering how much walking I'm doing).
The first two are the top and bottom of High Street (which becomes Queen St. at the top-- it changes names a lot actually... at other times it was also London Road and Headington Rd.). The third picture is Magdalen University (pronounced maudlin-- so, not the way it looks. And not necessarily the best name for a college...).
So, it's nice scenery as a backdrop to trying to do things like change the SIM card in my cell phone (which I should be calling a mobile)-- something which seemed basic but I'm honestly still not sure I understand how the plan I bought works. I'm pretty sure I bought a basic month-to-month plan that allows me minutes, texts and data in a pre-set quantity. And, that when they run out, I'm out of them until the end of the month when I can renew the plan. However, there are many ways to "top off" a mobile around here-- minutes, etc. can be added at ATMs, for example. So, I'm not sure if I can "top off" my mobile or not-- especially since the term seemed to be applied to both adding and to renewing. (I'm pretty sure that the plan I bought assumes I won't want to add to it...it's not a pay-as-you-go plan and the girl helping me said once I run out, I have to wait until I renew. Then again, it seems to me that it would be silly of Vodaphone to keep me from topping off if I really wanted to-- why wouldn't they want to make more money?)
It's also a lovely scenery to have around while fumbling to figure out how to pay for the bus-- I was given a pass that was supposed to let me ride as much as I wanted, but when I tried to use it, it turned out it was expired (I think it was probably good in August, but I tried to use it on September 2). But, that this card was given to me when I arrived and that I was assured it worked and that I've only been in Oxford for a little more than 24 hours and I'm really sorry that I didn't know (and, apparently the university people who gave me the card didn't know) that the card could expire or that is was expired felt like a lot to explain to the bus driver who seemed annoyed with me, especially when there was a line-- or rather, queue-- behind me waiting to get on, so I just how much it was to ride. Of course, that's not an easy question either-- it depends on where you're getting off. Fortunately, I seemed to get the answer to that question correct-- though I'm wondering if those who regularly ride the bus know the prices. I'm guessing those who regularly ride have pre-paid passes...it seems like everyone does because paying for individual, one-way destinations would get really expensive. (I will say, the bus driver was the first person I've come across who seemed annoyed with me... maybe he was just having a bad day.)
It's also lovely scenery being blocked by the setting up of some kind of fair:
I was told that this is the leftover nod to the old job fairs that used to be held in fall and spring-- seasonal workers used to have to look for indoor and then outdoor work respectively and there were fairs every year to help them. It's no longer a job fair though-- now it's just rides and games and what looked like typical amusement park food (like giant bags of cotton candy). It took asking several people to figure this out though-- even though this is being set up right off the main walking/shopping area in the City Center (a couple blocks away from this, an incredibly crowded pedestrian area where there are several musicians and street acts like fire eaters)
many people seemed unaware that it's happening at all. I didn't feel quite like a silly tourist asking since, suddenly, I knew about something that the people who live here didn't. The fact that I have to focus really hard when crossing the street so that I look the right way (which is, of course, the wrong way to me) puts me right back in silly tourist mode. (It also made the pedestrian area a nice moment of relief. It is a strange feeling to have to concentrate so hard just to walk without getting hit by a car.
What I had really dreamed of was "living" in Oxford-- feeling like this really is my home, if only for a little while, and sort of establishing a routine and a familiarity that makes it feel like I'm living here rather than having an extended touristy stay. But, the first couple of days have made me wonder if that's realistic-- I'm managing to do things like buy groceries and get a mobile (and, use the word mobile) but it is surprisingly more difficult than I would have expected in a country where I do speak the language, sort of. And, it's an absolutely gorgeous city to wander around in in a touristy manner (pulling out my camera every few feet probably screams tourist, too-- though I'm generally terrible about taking pictures, so I'm quite proud that I thought to take them yesterday.), so if that is the next four months of my life, that's still a really great way to spend my time. But, is four months enough time for a feeling of disorientation to end-- is it even enough time to start reflexively looking the "right" way when I cross the street? (I think the answer to that might be yes-- I was getting the hang of it a bit by the end of the day yesterday. Though, I got in a car last night and started to get in what I think of as the passenger's side, which is the driver's side here. It may take a while for the whole reverse direction thing to translate in my brain.) I'm wondering now if it's even enough time to be able to stop consulting a map every day before I leave my flat. (There's free WiFi just about everywhere-- having my iPad, and thus Google maps, with me was really helpful. It assured I got on the right bus-- so at least I didn't get lost. And it might save me from looking really touristy, pulling out a paper map everywhere I go...no one really knows what I'm looking at on an iPad. I'm hoping the data on my mobile doesn't run out before the end of the month-- I'm think GPS could be really useful too. And, maybe with headphones on, I'll just look like another person listening to music on my walk... to my next tourist destination.)
I took those pictures on Halloween Day. They don't even wait until it's over. I mention this because Oxford seems to have moved into Christmas mode which made going to Warwick Castle on Friday-- two days after Halloween-- a little disorienting. While the castle has flyers advertising Christmas programs, it is still Halloween at Warwick Castle, which is the Haunted Castle... at least until November 4.
(If you enlarge the picture, you can see it says "The Haunted Castle" in light.)
Warwick Castle is located in Warwick (convenient). It's the first castle I've gone to that really felt like a little like a gimicky tourist place. Not that there wasn't a lot of history explained, but it's more like history meets theme park... more so than any other castle I've been to. It's also huge-- there is an offer to buy a two day pass for just a pound more than the one day pass which I couldn't quite figure out until we spent from 10 am to 5 pm there and still didn't quite see everything (we missed the Witches Tower because every time we tried to go we were told it was children's story time, the rose garden because there are no more roses now, and other gardens for the same reason. We also only briefly saw the Mill Room-- we ran out of time and so sort of hurried through it.). There's a lot to do in a pretty compact space, as the map shows.
The entry to Warwick Castle the attraction is different than the entry to Warwick Castle itself. You enter the attraction through turnstiles. But, you get into the castle across a proper drawbridge.
Before getting to the entry, there are Halloween specific things, like the Haunted Hollow (sort of a Halloween maze for kids) and grave markers. This was my favorite grave marker.
(The sun made it a bit difficult to photograph-- it says, "I told you I was sick.")
Warwick Castle is huge. It's too big to get a picture of as one entity. That's one section of it.
I got a lot of it by climbing The Mound and then Guy's Tower (to climb and descend Guy's Tower is 530 steps. Very steep, narrow, uneven, worn steps. The sign only mentions that there are 530 of them. It's a pretty good workout, if that's what you're visiting a castle for.).
From the pictures, you can kind of see what is most historically telling about Warwick Castle, which is that is was built in four distinct time periods, starting from when it was built by William the Conqueror in 1068 when the Anglo-Saxons were invading England, to the 1400s when the castle came under French ownership (which is when Guy's Tower was built-- it's meant to look British on the outside but decorated in the more elegant manner of the French on the inside. That's why, as you can sort of tell from the picture below, the windows are so big-- great for letting in light and being aesthetic; not so great for holding off attackers. It defeats the purpose of a castle as fortification a bit.),
You have to schedule times for the two biggest "attractions" at Warwick Castle-- Merlin's Dragon Tower and the Castle Dungeon. We went to Merlin: The Dragon Tower first No pictures are allowed, so this is all you get to see of it: the entryway.
But, in it, visitors hear all about Merlin and how magic and sorcery were forbidden (all while books are magically falling off shelves-- which really seems more like there's a ghost than that magic is happening, but that's ok) and then, they get to meet Merlin's Dragon who, though a video dragon on a screen, interacts with the audience. It can actually hear what members of the audience are saying even though it's quite loud in the room what with all the dramatic music playing. I couldn't figure out where the microphones for hearing the audience were-- it's quite well done.
Between appointed "attraction" times, we toured the State Rooms and Chapel at Warwick. No matter what the time period, good lighting doesn't seem to be a major concern in castles, so some rooms were harder than others to photograph. But, the grandeur is amazing.
You enter into the Great Hall
which has displays of armor and weaponry as well as Calvary horses (which were hard to photograph in anything but shadow because they were directly backlit from the sun).
From the Great Hall, there's the State Dining Hall
which is set in the period of George Guy Greville, Earl of Warwick in the mid-1800s. The room is specifically set in 1858, when Queen Victoria and Prince Albert came to visit. The chandelier is Murano cut glass and was probably hung in the 1700s.
There was the Red Drawing Room
Then, the Green Drawing Room (I love the ceiling)
which the informational sign says is supposed to be more masculine than the Red Drawing room, though I don't see it. It's set as it was in the late 19th century; it's a room for talking business.
There's the Queen Anne Room
set as though for her visit in 1704. This is the bed that was sent ahead of her visit for her to sleep in. Her visit actually got canceled, but the bed remained in the castle. (I want to be important enough that custom beds are sent ahead of me when I visit places. And rich enough to simply then abandon them all over the country and world whether I ever sleep in them or not.)
And, finally, the Blue Boudoir (which was probably a dressing room in the 17th and 18th centuries).
It's also staged in the decorations from the late 19th century, despite the statues of Henry the VIII and his wives (which are a little confusing in this setting, but maybe the Tussauds Group had extras--there is an authentic painting of Henry VIII in the room, but that still doesn't quite explain this particular display.).
From there, we went to the Castle Dungeon. Again, no pictures are allowed inside. There are warnings all over that this is not suitable for children under 10. (And, it's not. Really, 10 might be pushing it.) I do like that Warwick Castle, though clearly a family-oriented attraction, has exhibits that are only meant for adults (especially since as we didn't have small children with us, we weren't allowed into the Witches Tower for story time. It evens things out a bit.). The Castle Dungeon marked on the map with 4 out of 5 witches hats to denote how scary it can be.
It is a lot like going through a haunted house-- a really good one. Things jump out and lights go on and off. Some of the scariest parts are actually walking from room to room-- it's not well lit and the stairs are steep and uneven. I'm amazed no one falls. But, the part that is most inappropriate for kids are the scenes which are acted out that demonstrate horrible forms of torture (like hooking people through any orifice the torturer wanted to use-- think about that a second...), castration devices which did the job pretty slowly, and other gruesome methods. (Read a little further-- I have pictures of one of the contraptions of torture and death from another part of the castle.) I've visited a few castles and palaces now, most of which had some kind of dungeon for holding prisoners and torturing them, but this is the most graphic description of what was done that I've heard so far. The people living in the middle ages were really sadistic-- I'm often appalled at the capacity some people now seem to have for cruelty, but I'm thinking some of them would have been considered pansies in the middle ages. There is also a scene that demonstrates the medical treatments done on those who were afflicted with the Plague (including wrist slashing for the poor and leeches for the rich--both methods of draining the "bad blood" that pretty much resulted in death themselves. Really, it was a lose-lose kind of thing.). Those were pretty gruesome as well-- though not as much so as the descriptions of what the Plague did to the body, like how it caused internal bleeding and rotting of the organs from the inside (which were pulled out of a fake-- though real looking-- body to demonstrate what they would have looked like. This also explains why people smelled so badly before they died of the Plague.). There was also a scene demonstrating beheading (though that was a bit more comical as it used audience participation) and a trial in which everyone put on trial was silenced when trying to mount a defense and then condemned to various horrors. And there was the requisite meeting of a ghost.
After lunch (because who doesn't want to eat after hearing tales of bloody torture and plague), we started exploring the separate sections of the castle, all of which are separate historical displays.
We went into Gaol's Tower, where more instruments of torture and death were on display.
The one on the left is a cage with a skeleton in it; the skeleton is bent because the cage isn't really big enough for a human. The one on the right is particularly horrifying to me-- it's basically a giant iron body cage which was hung from the ceiling (obviously, there would have someone in it) and then the person was simply left there to die and rot. There was also a small hole in the floor which people were locked into and left to die. There were kids touring this part of the castle-- I'm guessing their parents weren't reading the signs to them.
The next display was the slightly more cheery Kingmaker. This section is set as though in the 15th Century when Richard Neville occupied the castle. He imprisoned King Edward IV here and then tried to rule in his name (sort of making himself king...).
It shows the stables, women making clothes, the dining halls and soldiers getting ready for battle (most of whom never returned to Warwick Castle). There were also displays of blacksmiths and whitesmiths (those who mold items out of cold metal rather than hot) and armor making, etc. but those pictures came out too dark to see. What it all demonstrated was how self-sustaining the castle was at this time-- a village unto itself, as most were.
The castle displays (if you walk around the displays in the order they're presented-- you would have to criss-cross a bit to do them in chronological order) jump ahead in history then to the late 1800s when Francis Evelyn "Daisy" Maynard lived there with her husband, Lord Brooke, who inherited the castle and the Earlship in 1893. The display is called Secrets and Scandals-- and focuses on Daisy largely because her sordid history. She had many affairs, which her husband apparently knew about and overlooked, and converted to socialism and then represented the Labour Party at the general election in 1923. She was also apparently a great humanitarian who did a lot of work for charity (though, she showed up for a lot of it dressed in furs and expensive jewelry). The display rooms focus a lot more on her affairs and interactions with members of society than on her politics or charity work.
For example, the above is Daisy standing at the piano listening to her daughter, Marjorie, play. Marjorie is said to be the product of Daisy's affair with Charles Beresford. Daisy also had an 8 year affair with Edward, Prince of Wales as well as an affair with Joe Laycock, "the love of her life," with whom she also supposedly also had a child (it was never clear if she had any children with her actual husband). The signs in all the rooms focus on this kind of information. So, bedrooms depict the guests or relatives who would have stayed in them and the signs discuss the gossip about them.
The wealth was on display, even in the servants quarters pictured below (I don't know why there was a rocking horse there, except that I'm pretty sure the maids also took care of the children. In the hallway was a statue of a maid holding an infant.).
There are also lots of outdoor things to do. The demonstrations and live action recreations are scheduled throughout the and include a pretty cheesy, choreographed duel, the story of the sword in the stone, historical tours (which is where I learned a lot of how the castle was built in stages and about how, though methods for launching a siege were described, Warwick Castle itself was never really the victim of siege. Mostly, people just kept handing it over when asked/tricked into it. Or, it was given away as people died off.), and the birds of prey.
Birds of prey included a baby vulture named Ringo-- he's really only a few months old.
He flew around and ate, what I think were, dead mice as a reward.
There was also a bald eagle.
And, there's an owl, which apparently flew at the noon demonstration, but not at the 2:30 one we saw.
There's a birds of prey viewing area, separate from the demonstration arena, that has a bunch of birds, largely eagle varieties. It's sort of a look-but-don't-touch-thing.
If you wander around outside enough, you come across random events, like the archer, who was there all day long shooting a longbow (though not like the one used in the middle ages. It was lighter. The ones from the middle ages were massive and very heavy. According to the archer, you can tell from the skeletons just how brutal it was to have to use one because those who did have rounded and worn away shoulder bones.).
You will also come across the Headless Horseman (though maybe that's only for Halloween?)
and a man throwing rats (which I thought was going to turn into some kind of carnival game that people could pay to play, but it never did. He was the only one allowed to throw rats.).
The final demonstration of the day was the trebuchet. I got a still photo of it, but I couldn't get video, mostly because we watched it from the top of Gaol's Tower (which is part of the 530 step climb I mentioned early in the post-- it's largely the way down, though to go down, there were still some steps to go up) so we were too far away for video to work.
Basically, the trebuchet throws a large, flaming iron ball quite a distance. It was used to throw large flaming iron balls over the walls of castles during a siege. I'm sure in the middle ages those who worked the machines cheered when their giant balls of flame went over the walls; today, a bunch of people run towards it after its landed to put out the fire they've set in a field.
By 5 pm, the sun has gone down and it's pretty cold out at night now that it's November (it was really cold on top of Gaol's Tower watching the trebuchet-- the wind was brutal up there), so we left, even though the bus wasn't returning to Warwick to take us back to Oxford until about 7:30.
Warwick Castle was supposed to be spookier at night, which might have been worth staying for, but all I saw happening was the addition of multi-colored lights hitting the walls, which didn't seem too spooky. And, seven hours of wandering around a castle is about all the brain can take.
We wandered around the town (which the Warwick visitor guide describes as bustling even though none of that bustle was in evidence anywhere other than the castle--it seemed pretty deserted) until we found the Thomas Lloyd Pub, which is in keeping with my attempt to stop in a pub in every city I go to (though the choice was largely motivated by the prices being reasonable. Warwick is not the place to go if you want reasonably priced restaurants. Most seemed priced to take advantage of tourists leaving Warwick Castle.).
Monday, October 29, 2012
To Market
My intention this past weekend was to simply give in to the predicament my horrible washer/dryer combo is putting me in by alternately shrinking and putting holes in my clothing and go to London and shop. (Also, I've looked back at many of my photos-- I'm pretty much wearing the same thing in all of them. It's sad. I don't know why I thought I had packed a lot of clothes.) It was a fantastic cultural experience but, *spoiler alert*, it yielded no clothes.
There was a whole plan for this shopping excursion-- a carefully thought out route that would take me from vintage and thrift shops early in the day to the trendy, new fashions of Top Shop by the end. So, I took the Oxford Tube (a coach service that runs between Oxford and London) to the Notting Hill Gate stop and started walking. I envisioned meeting the coach later that day, laden down with all my fabulous purchases which I would then spend 2 more months protecting from my washer/dryer so I could show them off once I returned to the US. That didn't happen--the whole experience was overwhelming from the start.
I did manage to find my way to the main shopping drag of Notting Hill-- it's not that hard really. There were a lot of people (lots of people was the theme for the day) headed in that direction. It was hard to even move on the sidewalks or to push through to get into the stores. I'm not generally a thrift store shopper-- I was when I was a teenager and that grunge look that could only be gotten by wearing old clothes was in. But, I haven't really gone to one to buy clothes since my college days (though, I do make a Goodwill run to donate once or twice a year. It may not happen this year-- I don't know that I would wish the clothing I'm currently want to get rid of on anyone.). However, I had read a lot about the upscale treasures to be found in Notting Hill where thrift stores are supposedly filled with brand name cast offs that once graced the pages of Vogue. What I most wanted was a Burberry raincoat. I can't afford a new one (they start at $800-$1000 and go up from there) but I do think they're quintessential England both for being one of the most famous English brands and because they are designed to help one brave the British weather (which has taken another turn-- I don't think it's getting out of the 40s again while I'm here. The British fascination with the weather does extend beyond their own-- the "frakenstorm" hitting the east coast in the US is second behind the lead story on the news here. The lead story is about Jimmy Savile, a radio and TV personality and DJ who died last year. It has recently come out that he was a pedophile, perhaps even molesting the children he visited in the hospital as part of his extensive charity work. But, none of this came out while he was alive. There's a huge investigation and it's apparently really heartbreaking to the Brits who spend decades lauding how fabulous this guy was. There's news everyday about new people being questioned and/or arrested-- I'm guessing because there had to be some massive coverup. You don't spend more than 40 or 50 years in the public eye while being, what the British papers are now calling him, one of the world's most prolific pedophiles withough some people covering for and/or helping you. He had offices at the BBC and so the BBC is being heavily investigated. It's a big mess. You can read about it everywhere. This is just one paper's coverage: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/crime/jimmy-savile/).
Burberry was nowhere to be found-- there was a lot of fur though. I'm guessing a lot of it was fake fur, but I doubt all of it was (especially since I was in vintage shops. Real fur wasn't always so anathema.). In fact, there was fur-- fake, mostly, I guess-- everywhere I went. Fur, even fake, seems somewhat impractical to me-- yes, it's warm. But, I can't imagine it stands up to the rains well. But, it seems to be very popular-- "then" and now. There were some very high end brands in the thrift stores. Especially in the shoe cases-- though, while the clothes were generally in pretty mint condition, the shoes were quite worn. And still priced pretty high considering-- Louis Vuitton shoes which were certainly too worn out to go with the kinds of dresses they were intended to be paired with were still 80 pounds or more. Most important and frustrating, the stores themselves were very small and the clothes were packed onto hangers and even just a few other customers in the stores made it impossible to get down the incredibly narrow aisles to look at what was on the racks-- I'm sure that patience and tenacity are rewarded in these places, but I didn't have the fortitude for it. And, it was still early in my shopping day, so I headed deeper into Notting Hill towards the Portobello Market (named for the street it largely runs along).
The Portobello Market is rather famous-- and this fame was proven by how many people were there.
That was my best attempt to get a picture of the street with all its stands set up-- there are so many people, you can't see them. The stands go on for miles though. And, I walked all of it. There is a progression to it. It starts with antiques of all kinds, both in stands on the streets and in stores.
There was stuff I couldn't even get close to because I was sort of being swept along with the crowd. But, the array of antiques was amazing-- there was actually a lot of stuff I would have wanted, especially some furniture pieces which seemed reasonably priced, but I couldn't figure out how I would get them back to Oxford let alone back to the US (and, I wasn't supposed to be shopping for furniture).
From antiques, the Portobello Market moves to food. It is both a farmer's market and a food festival. The different kinds of street food available is amazing.
Those are giant cauldrons of paella (which I saw after I had already gotten something to eat or I probably would have had this for lunch-- I was quite hungry by the time I got to the food section.). Near the end of the food section, and right before the "new goods" section begins, there's a small break in the stands and people. So, I could at least finally appreciate the fun architecture in Notting Hill (I think this is also veering into being Chelsea, but I'm a little unclear on how neighborhoods are designated). I like how colorful the houses are.
It's hard to tell in the second picture since that side of the street was in shade, but the houses on that side are largely all shades of blue, purple and grey, as though the residents planned a gradation of color. There does seem to be a logical progression of color on that side of the street.
The new goods area of the market is once again an array of anything you can imagine- though slightly less crowded. It was a lot of jewelry. And, most of the clothing for sale there were kitchy t-shirts with wry sayings on them (like, "No, I'm not on f$%#ing Facebook). Not really the thing I was looking for. There were some handmade sweaters-- they were all kind of shapeless and large though.
I think it took me more than 2 hours to get to the end of the Portobello Market (and, I rushed through parts of it where the crowds became too much to take, especially in the antique section). If you simply walk the length of it, as I did, rather than turn around and head back to Notting Hill Gate, you arrive at a totally different tube station. This one happened to be on the Hammersmith and City and Circle lines-- which is fine, except that there are repairs/upgrades happening on both lines on weekends, so the Circle line wasn't running at all the Hammersmith and City line was closed in some places. Fortunately, there are few places in London which are accessible by only one tube line, so it wasn't that hard to navigate around the construction (though, I also wasn't trying to use the Circle line- that would have made it a lot harder).
From the Portobello Market, I headed to Camden Town where the Camden Market and Camden Lock Market are located (as is the Camden Stables Market which isn't advertised as a separate market for some reason-- I think it's considered an extension of the Camden Lock).
That it's called Camden Lock makes sense-- there's a portion of river and a lock there.
The riverwalk, however, is the only area of Camden Town that isn't, like Notting Hill, a throng of people. The river picture is deceiving-- most of the time, I was walking through crowds like this.
Camden is the (somewhat self-proclaimed, but with reason) home of the punk movement. The first Doc Martin's store was in Camden. And, it retains that character-- which means the signs above storefronts are fabulous.
It also means it's a haven for every kind of person you can imagine-- and it's a stark contrast from Notting Hill which was a fairly preppy, touristy crowd. I'm sure some of the people in Camden were tourists-- I couldn't be the only one-- but what people mostly seemed to want to do was stand out from the (incredibly large) crowd. The fashion is wild-- and eclectic. There are tattoo and piercing parlors everywhere. Lots of people wearing leather-- it's the first place in London I've seen drag queens wandering around. There's every hair color you can imagine. Oddly, though I wouldn't think it would be a top place for tourists to go, there were a lot of stores selling tourist crap. (Note: if you're in the market for touristy crap-- or, London themed souvenirs-- I would suggest heading to Camden. It has the same stuff that is in the shops located around major tourist attractions but seems to be priced a bit cheaper. And, there's a lot of it.)
In fact, once again, there is a lot of everything. The Camden Market is a relatively small space packed with items like novelty t-shirts and other relatively cheap clothing.
Actually, quite a bit of what is in the area marked Camden Market is junk. (It's also the only place besides Buckingham Palace I've been so far that had a sign warning to look out for pickpockets.)
The real treasure troves are in the Camden Lock Market and the Camden Stables Market. Especially if you're hungry (which I wasn't because I ate in the Portobello Market. If I had known what awaited in Camden Town, I might have allowed myself to starve for a while. Seriously-- if you can think of the ethnicity, its food is represented in Camden Lock or Camden Stables. Or both. It kind of makes me want to go back just to spend a day eating-- like, order food, eat, walk around until I'm hungry again, order more food... and keep going until the market closes. Or I can't eat anymore.) Additionally, if you order food on the side with the river walk (pictured above) or carry it over there, you can eat on motorcycle seats.
Why? I have no idea. It just adds to the fun and wackiness that is Camden.
There are also great architectural features around the Camden Lock and Camden Stables-- parts of each are indoors. The Camden Lock indoor section looks like more traditional architecture amped up with color.
And, the Camden Stables are named that because the indoor section was clearly once actual stables (vendors are set up in the old stalls). The statuary in it celebrates this.
There is also statuary in the stalls that have nothing to do with horses.
That's the entrance to a bar/club. There are a few of those located around the Lock and Stables markets as well.
Beyond the food, there is great shopping in Camden-- lots of very cool handmade jewelry. Fabulous leather goods. Clothes. Lots of hookahs and bongs. And, like in Notting Hill, I was so overwhelmed, I couldn't buy anything (I did try on one fabulous ring-- and I would have bought it if the woman had made one in a smaller size. I have thin fingers-- the ring I tried on was even a little loose on my thumb). There were people everywhere-- even after it started raining.
Eventually, I gave up on trying to do any actual shopping in Camden (I did walk around for a while hoping I would get hungry again so I could justify eating at at least one of the stands. Didn't happen.), and headed towards the more conventional shopping to be found in Oxford Circus-- namely at Top Shop.
Exiting the Oxford Circus tube station, you can already tell it's a more traditional shopping area-- it's already gearing up for Christmas.
That there is already a sign for the kick off to the 12 Days of Christmas confuses me-- this seems amazingly premature since we're a ways off from that particular countdown. However, in the absence of Thanksgiving to mark the kick off to the true Christmas season, Halloween seems to be the marker. Santa arrives at Harrod's at the end of this week-- just two days after Halloween. But, if Christmas would start anywhere, Oxford Circus-- with all of its familiar and popular shops-- seems like the place to start. And, there is some sort of shopping rush there too because it was as crowded and hectic as all the markets I had been in earlier that day.
I specifically went there to go to Top Shop-- there's a small Top Shop in Oxford, but nothing like the famed one in London and I figured any shopping excursion should include this iconic store. It was like shopping in a night club. Music was blaring, the lighting was dim (which actually makes no sense for a clothing store-- that seems like a place where you want to be able to see) and, again, masses of people packed in.
So many people, in fact, that it was hard to even get near the clothes. And, the lines for the changing rooms were impossibly long. It was past 5 pm by now-- and I was exhausted. Not that I had done anything all that hard, but I had been mingling with and fighting against crowds all day and I really had no desire to do that for another couple hours (and, I would have been waiting in line to try clothes on for that long). So, I left and headed to meet the coach back to Oxford.
Because of the tube outages, it was easiest to get to Victoria Station to meet the coach. The area was much less crowded (the first time all day I didn't have to push through people to move on the sidewalks)-- but no less in a holiday spirit. At least it was the right holiday.
Friday, October 26, 2012
There was a whole plan for this shopping excursion-- a carefully thought out route that would take me from vintage and thrift shops early in the day to the trendy, new fashions of Top Shop by the end. So, I took the Oxford Tube (a coach service that runs between Oxford and London) to the Notting Hill Gate stop and started walking. I envisioned meeting the coach later that day, laden down with all my fabulous purchases which I would then spend 2 more months protecting from my washer/dryer so I could show them off once I returned to the US. That didn't happen--the whole experience was overwhelming from the start.
I did manage to find my way to the main shopping drag of Notting Hill-- it's not that hard really. There were a lot of people (lots of people was the theme for the day) headed in that direction. It was hard to even move on the sidewalks or to push through to get into the stores. I'm not generally a thrift store shopper-- I was when I was a teenager and that grunge look that could only be gotten by wearing old clothes was in. But, I haven't really gone to one to buy clothes since my college days (though, I do make a Goodwill run to donate once or twice a year. It may not happen this year-- I don't know that I would wish the clothing I'm currently want to get rid of on anyone.). However, I had read a lot about the upscale treasures to be found in Notting Hill where thrift stores are supposedly filled with brand name cast offs that once graced the pages of Vogue. What I most wanted was a Burberry raincoat. I can't afford a new one (they start at $800-$1000 and go up from there) but I do think they're quintessential England both for being one of the most famous English brands and because they are designed to help one brave the British weather (which has taken another turn-- I don't think it's getting out of the 40s again while I'm here. The British fascination with the weather does extend beyond their own-- the "frakenstorm" hitting the east coast in the US is second behind the lead story on the news here. The lead story is about Jimmy Savile, a radio and TV personality and DJ who died last year. It has recently come out that he was a pedophile, perhaps even molesting the children he visited in the hospital as part of his extensive charity work. But, none of this came out while he was alive. There's a huge investigation and it's apparently really heartbreaking to the Brits who spend decades lauding how fabulous this guy was. There's news everyday about new people being questioned and/or arrested-- I'm guessing because there had to be some massive coverup. You don't spend more than 40 or 50 years in the public eye while being, what the British papers are now calling him, one of the world's most prolific pedophiles withough some people covering for and/or helping you. He had offices at the BBC and so the BBC is being heavily investigated. It's a big mess. You can read about it everywhere. This is just one paper's coverage: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/crime/jimmy-savile/).
Burberry was nowhere to be found-- there was a lot of fur though. I'm guessing a lot of it was fake fur, but I doubt all of it was (especially since I was in vintage shops. Real fur wasn't always so anathema.). In fact, there was fur-- fake, mostly, I guess-- everywhere I went. Fur, even fake, seems somewhat impractical to me-- yes, it's warm. But, I can't imagine it stands up to the rains well. But, it seems to be very popular-- "then" and now. There were some very high end brands in the thrift stores. Especially in the shoe cases-- though, while the clothes were generally in pretty mint condition, the shoes were quite worn. And still priced pretty high considering-- Louis Vuitton shoes which were certainly too worn out to go with the kinds of dresses they were intended to be paired with were still 80 pounds or more. Most important and frustrating, the stores themselves were very small and the clothes were packed onto hangers and even just a few other customers in the stores made it impossible to get down the incredibly narrow aisles to look at what was on the racks-- I'm sure that patience and tenacity are rewarded in these places, but I didn't have the fortitude for it. And, it was still early in my shopping day, so I headed deeper into Notting Hill towards the Portobello Market (named for the street it largely runs along).
The Portobello Market is rather famous-- and this fame was proven by how many people were there.
That was my best attempt to get a picture of the street with all its stands set up-- there are so many people, you can't see them. The stands go on for miles though. And, I walked all of it. There is a progression to it. It starts with antiques of all kinds, both in stands on the streets and in stores.
There was stuff I couldn't even get close to because I was sort of being swept along with the crowd. But, the array of antiques was amazing-- there was actually a lot of stuff I would have wanted, especially some furniture pieces which seemed reasonably priced, but I couldn't figure out how I would get them back to Oxford let alone back to the US (and, I wasn't supposed to be shopping for furniture).
From antiques, the Portobello Market moves to food. It is both a farmer's market and a food festival. The different kinds of street food available is amazing.
Those are giant cauldrons of paella (which I saw after I had already gotten something to eat or I probably would have had this for lunch-- I was quite hungry by the time I got to the food section.). Near the end of the food section, and right before the "new goods" section begins, there's a small break in the stands and people. So, I could at least finally appreciate the fun architecture in Notting Hill (I think this is also veering into being Chelsea, but I'm a little unclear on how neighborhoods are designated). I like how colorful the houses are.
It's hard to tell in the second picture since that side of the street was in shade, but the houses on that side are largely all shades of blue, purple and grey, as though the residents planned a gradation of color. There does seem to be a logical progression of color on that side of the street.
The new goods area of the market is once again an array of anything you can imagine- though slightly less crowded. It was a lot of jewelry. And, most of the clothing for sale there were kitchy t-shirts with wry sayings on them (like, "No, I'm not on f$%#ing Facebook). Not really the thing I was looking for. There were some handmade sweaters-- they were all kind of shapeless and large though.
I think it took me more than 2 hours to get to the end of the Portobello Market (and, I rushed through parts of it where the crowds became too much to take, especially in the antique section). If you simply walk the length of it, as I did, rather than turn around and head back to Notting Hill Gate, you arrive at a totally different tube station. This one happened to be on the Hammersmith and City and Circle lines-- which is fine, except that there are repairs/upgrades happening on both lines on weekends, so the Circle line wasn't running at all the Hammersmith and City line was closed in some places. Fortunately, there are few places in London which are accessible by only one tube line, so it wasn't that hard to navigate around the construction (though, I also wasn't trying to use the Circle line- that would have made it a lot harder).
From the Portobello Market, I headed to Camden Town where the Camden Market and Camden Lock Market are located (as is the Camden Stables Market which isn't advertised as a separate market for some reason-- I think it's considered an extension of the Camden Lock).
That it's called Camden Lock makes sense-- there's a portion of river and a lock there.
The riverwalk, however, is the only area of Camden Town that isn't, like Notting Hill, a throng of people. The river picture is deceiving-- most of the time, I was walking through crowds like this.
Camden is the (somewhat self-proclaimed, but with reason) home of the punk movement. The first Doc Martin's store was in Camden. And, it retains that character-- which means the signs above storefronts are fabulous.
It also means it's a haven for every kind of person you can imagine-- and it's a stark contrast from Notting Hill which was a fairly preppy, touristy crowd. I'm sure some of the people in Camden were tourists-- I couldn't be the only one-- but what people mostly seemed to want to do was stand out from the (incredibly large) crowd. The fashion is wild-- and eclectic. There are tattoo and piercing parlors everywhere. Lots of people wearing leather-- it's the first place in London I've seen drag queens wandering around. There's every hair color you can imagine. Oddly, though I wouldn't think it would be a top place for tourists to go, there were a lot of stores selling tourist crap. (Note: if you're in the market for touristy crap-- or, London themed souvenirs-- I would suggest heading to Camden. It has the same stuff that is in the shops located around major tourist attractions but seems to be priced a bit cheaper. And, there's a lot of it.)
In fact, once again, there is a lot of everything. The Camden Market is a relatively small space packed with items like novelty t-shirts and other relatively cheap clothing.
Actually, quite a bit of what is in the area marked Camden Market is junk. (It's also the only place besides Buckingham Palace I've been so far that had a sign warning to look out for pickpockets.)
The real treasure troves are in the Camden Lock Market and the Camden Stables Market. Especially if you're hungry (which I wasn't because I ate in the Portobello Market. If I had known what awaited in Camden Town, I might have allowed myself to starve for a while. Seriously-- if you can think of the ethnicity, its food is represented in Camden Lock or Camden Stables. Or both. It kind of makes me want to go back just to spend a day eating-- like, order food, eat, walk around until I'm hungry again, order more food... and keep going until the market closes. Or I can't eat anymore.) Additionally, if you order food on the side with the river walk (pictured above) or carry it over there, you can eat on motorcycle seats.
Why? I have no idea. It just adds to the fun and wackiness that is Camden.
There are also great architectural features around the Camden Lock and Camden Stables-- parts of each are indoors. The Camden Lock indoor section looks like more traditional architecture amped up with color.
And, the Camden Stables are named that because the indoor section was clearly once actual stables (vendors are set up in the old stalls). The statuary in it celebrates this.
There is also statuary in the stalls that have nothing to do with horses.
That's the entrance to a bar/club. There are a few of those located around the Lock and Stables markets as well.
Beyond the food, there is great shopping in Camden-- lots of very cool handmade jewelry. Fabulous leather goods. Clothes. Lots of hookahs and bongs. And, like in Notting Hill, I was so overwhelmed, I couldn't buy anything (I did try on one fabulous ring-- and I would have bought it if the woman had made one in a smaller size. I have thin fingers-- the ring I tried on was even a little loose on my thumb). There were people everywhere-- even after it started raining.
Eventually, I gave up on trying to do any actual shopping in Camden (I did walk around for a while hoping I would get hungry again so I could justify eating at at least one of the stands. Didn't happen.), and headed towards the more conventional shopping to be found in Oxford Circus-- namely at Top Shop.
Exiting the Oxford Circus tube station, you can already tell it's a more traditional shopping area-- it's already gearing up for Christmas.
That there is already a sign for the kick off to the 12 Days of Christmas confuses me-- this seems amazingly premature since we're a ways off from that particular countdown. However, in the absence of Thanksgiving to mark the kick off to the true Christmas season, Halloween seems to be the marker. Santa arrives at Harrod's at the end of this week-- just two days after Halloween. But, if Christmas would start anywhere, Oxford Circus-- with all of its familiar and popular shops-- seems like the place to start. And, there is some sort of shopping rush there too because it was as crowded and hectic as all the markets I had been in earlier that day.
I specifically went there to go to Top Shop-- there's a small Top Shop in Oxford, but nothing like the famed one in London and I figured any shopping excursion should include this iconic store. It was like shopping in a night club. Music was blaring, the lighting was dim (which actually makes no sense for a clothing store-- that seems like a place where you want to be able to see) and, again, masses of people packed in.
So many people, in fact, that it was hard to even get near the clothes. And, the lines for the changing rooms were impossibly long. It was past 5 pm by now-- and I was exhausted. Not that I had done anything all that hard, but I had been mingling with and fighting against crowds all day and I really had no desire to do that for another couple hours (and, I would have been waiting in line to try clothes on for that long). So, I left and headed to meet the coach back to Oxford.
Because of the tube outages, it was easiest to get to Victoria Station to meet the coach. The area was much less crowded (the first time all day I didn't have to push through people to move on the sidewalks)-- but no less in a holiday spirit. At least it was the right holiday.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Sometimes, It's Good Not to Have Photos
The past two days have been ones when I've been glad there's been no one to take a picture for me; they mark two firsts. My first haircut in England (which isn't necessarily daunting, but there's a bit of an unknown to it) and my first "real tennis" lesson.
I had this idea when I came here that I would let my hair grow out and see what I thought after four months (I have pretty short hair); I made it two months before I remembered why I've stopped having long hair (and frankly, it wasn't that long). I had scoped out my neighborhood for places to get my hair cut; I had also looked online for reviews of salons, but online reviews don't seem as popular here. (Hotel reviews seem to be the one exception, though even most of those are written by non-Brits. My favorite hotel review so far, clearly written by someone not from the UK, was a whole rant about who they couldn't get table service in the hotel pub. They had to order at the bar and then their order was brought to them which seemed to be a source of great consternation for these reviewers. Obviously they hadn't read a single travel guide-- there is no pub that I know of in the UK that works in any other way. In fact, table service [i.e. having your order taken at the table an all the other normal waiter functions we're used to in the US, like drink refills] is sort of a new concept in the UK-- though it is becoming more common at restaurants [table service. Not drink refills. Don't expect a free refill. Anywhere. For anything.]. But not pubs-- there is no table service at pubs. If lack of table service is a big deal, you really shouldn't visit the UK.) So, online reviews being no help (and, a glance at the Tony and Guy service list demonstrating that a haircut there-- the place was recommended to me by the woman who cuts my hair in the US-- was out of my price range), I decided to go to the place in my neighborhood that always seems busiest. Busy seems like a good sign; I tend to avoid restaurants that never have anyone in them (I assume the locals are avoiding it for a reason-- though this doesn't really apply in Oxford. There aren't too many restaurants that aren't busy.), so I figured a salon should work the same way. After much deliberation (this actually went on largely before the day I picked a salon because I had been thinking for a while that I wasn't going to be able to take the whole growing out process), I went to Fusion.
It turns out that asking for an appointment at a salon in the UK is more complicated than asking for one in the US. There are the regular questions-- what do you want done (cut, cut and color, etc.--thankfully, I didn't want color because that would have been followed by half or full and I haven't figured out what that means yet. I only know there are distinctions because I've seen price lists which have both.), what time and day-- and then there is the question of what kind of stylist you want. There are levels to choose from: graduate stylist, stylist (also called classic stylist), creative stylist, and senior stylist. Sometimes the manager counts as an additional level as well. And, how much a haircut costs depends on which kind of stylist does it. (It can also vary depending on length of hair, but this wasn't really an issue for me.) I went with a graduate stylist, which is the most inexpensive option (I was assured that the graduate stylists had been well trained... though I'm not sure what that indicates exactly. Trained by whom? Where? "Well trained" seems like a relative term.). A basic haircut by a graduate stylist in Oxford is still about 30 pounds (this seemed to be a pretty standard base price at every salon I looked at in Headington-- it only went up from there). I was able to make an appointment for a couple hours later (which was surprising, but I guess Wednesday afternoon isn't ever a really busy time at a salon), so I went to run errands and then returned.
My stylist was Laura. She was really methodical in explaining how much hair she was going to take from each part of my head (I am still trying to grow my bangs out-- or fringe as it's called here-- so there was a discussion of how to make that blend a bit while they go through this somewhat awkward in-between stage), making sure that almost every cut she was going to make was pre-approved. This might be because she's a graduate stylist which means she's only been out of school (she called it college which I think indicates she's had some pretty formal training beyond the basic beauty school) for a short while, less than two years. (The terms seem to indicate both how long the stylist has been out of school as well as how much additional training a stylist has had. Basically, the more complicated a cut or color job wanted, the higher up the ladder you would go to ensure it's done well.) It might also just be how the salon works since no one seemed to be in much of a hurry. (That might be a cultural thing too.) She might have been that methodical because I looked nervous. I generally have the opinion that it's hair and it'll grow back-- then again, I've been taking a lot of pictures and I don't really want to create lasting memories of me with a terrible haircut. And, the whole booking process was just different enough that it threw me a bit (for all I knew, they were laughing at me in the back for being dumb enough to go with graduate stylist) that I was a little worried about what was going to happen. When I think about it though, their system does make more sense, even if it is more complicated-- the levels of experience aren't nearly as well denoted in the US.
It all turned out well. I got a lovely head massage while she was washing my hair. And, the haircut is really quite good-- a tiny bit shorter than I probably would have wanted (the "fringe" got cut a little to make it blend which means it'll be that much longer growing it out-- and now it's just slightly too short to tuck behind my ears as I had been doing) but that's not a bad thing in the end. It might mean that I can make it another couple months before getting my hair cut again which is good since getting a hair cut in England is more expensive than in the US. I can't afford to do it as often as I would there.
I'm glad not to have photos of my hair cut since no one looks good in progress; but even happier that I don't have photos (or video) of my first "real tennis" lesson. I've written about going to watch real tennis-- and in lieu of being able to play actual tennis (or, lawn tennis as it seems to be differentiated here-- even if the court isn't a lawn court. Just saying tennis works too-- unless in the context of a "real tennis" lesson when it all starts to become confusing), I've decided to learn how to play the game which is its origin. I think learn might be optimistic-- there's only one "real tennis" club in Oxford and that club only has one court and that court is booked a lot. And, I think it would take much more than the few lessons I'm going to be able to fit in to really learn to play. But, in just one lesson, I did get some of the basics.
I had a one hour lesson scheduled with Craig-- my somewhat distractingly cute instructor. He was really encouraging and kept telling me I had good from, but I suspect he was exaggerating a bit. I will say that the fact that I play tennis helped a bit-- mostly because aim seems to be incredibly important in real tennis (I should stop using the quotation marks...it's not like that's not the real name) and I do know how to hit a ball with a racquet and make it go in an intentional direction. However, that is made harder by the fact that the racquet head is much, much smaller and the racquet itself is much, much heavier.
It's also asymmetrical-- flat on one end so that it can better scrape along the floor. Because the ball often bounces that low. (I think you can see the asymmetry better in the second picture.)
The ball itself is also heavier. They are all handmade-- and this means that the stitching creates a ridge on the ball.
So, not only does it tend to not bounce up, the ridges mean that it doesn't necessarily take a true bounce. Of course, the fact that it's coming off the walls like it might in racquetball doesn't help that whole bounce predictability either. So, while I can aim pretty well when I actually get the racquet on the ball, the potential for missing altogether is pretty high.
Craig started me off with forehands-- but that doesn't just mean hitting the ball from the forehand side. No-- it means that he would toss the ball towards the dedans overhand, let it roll down and then I would have to hit it.
It's much harder to hit a ball when it's coming from behind, especially when not only do you want to hit it, but also aim it towards the tambour and/or grille. The tambour is a section of the wall that has an angle to it-- if the ball hits it, it tends to shoot off wildly, making a return quite difficult. The grille is a small section of the wall, an inset box really, which if hit is an automatic point. (I hit it twice! I managed to hit the tambour quite a bit-- it's a bigger target.) In my head, this translated to having to go down the line with my forehand a lot. (There is no "line" to go down, but that's the direction.)
From here, Craig when to the other side of the net and fed me forehands-- this was unfortunately the point where spectators showed up. They got to watch the part where I missed the ball entirely. (It took me a few feeds to get the sense of how low the ball would bounce when simply coming off the floor rather than rolling of the overhang. I was swinging above the ball for the first few tries.) Then, the two guys who had been standing in the dedans decided they were "putting me off" so they left-- and totally missed the moment when I actually did hit the ball and get it over the net. I'm sure they were in the lounge talking about the silly American girl who couldn't even hit the ball-- but maybe it was them being there. I was better once they were gone. Being able to hit the ball flat is a great advantage in real tennis-- and flat is my natural shot, so that also helped me though there were some times when I hit with topspin (which is funny because I don't really have a topspin shot at all in actual tennis). Topspin shots have the opposite effect in real tennis of what an actual tennis player would expect; rather than create net clearance, it sends the ball into the net, pretty much at the bottom of it. It's not so much that I was intentionally creating a topspin shot-- I think it's that the racquet is so much heavier that sometimes it was hard to keep in the correct position and so the resulting motion made me come over the ball. But, I think Craig has the impression that I have a pretty good topspin tennis shot, so why delusion him?
We did the same process with backhands, only the goal here was to hit cross court (a term which makes more sense than down-the-line since there is a court to cross) since that again aims the ball towards the tambour and grille. Craig kept commenting on my backhand technique and how good it was-- surprisingly better than my forehand (I think my forehand is my better shot in actual tennis...). It might be that hitting cross court is an easier shot than going down-the-line in general. My forehand cross court did look pretty good-- it's just that that's not the smart shot in real tennis. And, I have a pretty big follow-through on my forehand-- the follow-through is not a help in real tennis. Hitting a real tennis shot is a lot more like hitting a volley-- and, I do like my backhand volley better than my forehand one.
From forehands and backhands, we moved onto the serve. The serve is strange in real tennis-- it doesn't really matter how you hit it. Underhand, overhand-- either is good. What matters is that you have to hit the overhang on the opposite side of the court. And then the ball has to hit in the service box, but that's really not a problem since it's so much larger than the service box in actual tennis. Getting the ball in the service box was easy for me. What isn't as easy is that the idea on the serve is to aim for the crevice between the wall and the floor pretty close to the service wall side. That makes it almost impossible to return the ball. (Craig put out a basket where I was ideally aiming-- I did manage to hit that twice as well. And, I came close a lot-- close created a pretty good serve.) Once I got used to tossing the ball lower than I would for my actual tennis serve, I was pretty good. Serving is probably the strongest part of my real tennis game (though, my shoulder was quite sore later. I haven't served at all in a couple months and doing it with a significantly heavier racquet than I'm used to was clearly not something my poor shoulder was prepared for. Fortunately, some extra-strength ibuprofen seems to have fixed that.). Returning serve, on the other hand, I'm pretty awful. (Again, interesting since I think the return of serve is the best part of my actual tennis game.) Ideally, when returning serve, you would take the ball as it comes off the wall. It turns out, it's really hard to predict where a ball is going to be when it's coming off a wall and is coming from behind you. For a while, Craig was serving to me so that the ball was falling from the service wall overhand and landing in front of me-- that I could return. But, no one would serve that way intentionally in real tennis (at least not on a first serve-- there are two serves in real tennis as well, though not nearly as much need for the second serve) because simply rolling the ball of the overhang makes the serve a pretty easy shot to return. No-- the server would ideally create a shot that rolls off the overhang, bounces on the floor and spins towards the back wall necessitating taking the ball out of the air before it bounces a second time on the floor (which would be a winning point). I can create that serve, but I can't return it. Frankly, when it looks like tennis (the ball hitting the floor and bouncing in front of me), I'm pretty good. But, since that happens rarely (really, only when Craig is intentionally feeding it to me that way), overall I'm not a natural at real tennis. It's really unnatural to think about spinning around to take a ball from behind-- which is why when we played one game at the end, Craig beat me at love (He didn't even try to let me win a point, which on one level I appreciate since I don't really want to be given anything, but on the level where I'm competitive and don't like losing, it kind of sucked to not even be able to get a point, especially since I don't think Craig was having to work too hard to beat me.).
On the plus side-- Craig does keep insisting I have good form. I'm going back for another lesson in a little more than a week and we're going to start by playing actual points so I can get used to the completely random bounces. I guess if he were lying to me about technique, we wouldn't be starting with actual game play next time. And, this could actually have a good effect on my actual tennis game-- "watch the ball" is a mantra in actual tennis, but there's just no way to play real tennis without constantly keeping an eye on the ball, especially since it's bouncing off overhangs and walls and moving in unpredictable ways. So this should help my focus. And my footwork-- the unpredictability means you can't be flatfooted. Ever. And, it may help my volley as well-- or at least my half volley (there isn't much rushing the net to take a volley out of the air in a traditional way-- while taking the net in actual tennis is often an advantage, it is a serious disadvantage in real tennis since it leaves the corners, grill, tambour and walls all vulnerable.). At the very least, it felt good to hit a ball again-- which I managed to do more than I missed. That probably makes it a successful first real tennis outing.
I had this idea when I came here that I would let my hair grow out and see what I thought after four months (I have pretty short hair); I made it two months before I remembered why I've stopped having long hair (and frankly, it wasn't that long). I had scoped out my neighborhood for places to get my hair cut; I had also looked online for reviews of salons, but online reviews don't seem as popular here. (Hotel reviews seem to be the one exception, though even most of those are written by non-Brits. My favorite hotel review so far, clearly written by someone not from the UK, was a whole rant about who they couldn't get table service in the hotel pub. They had to order at the bar and then their order was brought to them which seemed to be a source of great consternation for these reviewers. Obviously they hadn't read a single travel guide-- there is no pub that I know of in the UK that works in any other way. In fact, table service [i.e. having your order taken at the table an all the other normal waiter functions we're used to in the US, like drink refills] is sort of a new concept in the UK-- though it is becoming more common at restaurants [table service. Not drink refills. Don't expect a free refill. Anywhere. For anything.]. But not pubs-- there is no table service at pubs. If lack of table service is a big deal, you really shouldn't visit the UK.) So, online reviews being no help (and, a glance at the Tony and Guy service list demonstrating that a haircut there-- the place was recommended to me by the woman who cuts my hair in the US-- was out of my price range), I decided to go to the place in my neighborhood that always seems busiest. Busy seems like a good sign; I tend to avoid restaurants that never have anyone in them (I assume the locals are avoiding it for a reason-- though this doesn't really apply in Oxford. There aren't too many restaurants that aren't busy.), so I figured a salon should work the same way. After much deliberation (this actually went on largely before the day I picked a salon because I had been thinking for a while that I wasn't going to be able to take the whole growing out process), I went to Fusion.
It turns out that asking for an appointment at a salon in the UK is more complicated than asking for one in the US. There are the regular questions-- what do you want done (cut, cut and color, etc.--thankfully, I didn't want color because that would have been followed by half or full and I haven't figured out what that means yet. I only know there are distinctions because I've seen price lists which have both.), what time and day-- and then there is the question of what kind of stylist you want. There are levels to choose from: graduate stylist, stylist (also called classic stylist), creative stylist, and senior stylist. Sometimes the manager counts as an additional level as well. And, how much a haircut costs depends on which kind of stylist does it. (It can also vary depending on length of hair, but this wasn't really an issue for me.) I went with a graduate stylist, which is the most inexpensive option (I was assured that the graduate stylists had been well trained... though I'm not sure what that indicates exactly. Trained by whom? Where? "Well trained" seems like a relative term.). A basic haircut by a graduate stylist in Oxford is still about 30 pounds (this seemed to be a pretty standard base price at every salon I looked at in Headington-- it only went up from there). I was able to make an appointment for a couple hours later (which was surprising, but I guess Wednesday afternoon isn't ever a really busy time at a salon), so I went to run errands and then returned.
My stylist was Laura. She was really methodical in explaining how much hair she was going to take from each part of my head (I am still trying to grow my bangs out-- or fringe as it's called here-- so there was a discussion of how to make that blend a bit while they go through this somewhat awkward in-between stage), making sure that almost every cut she was going to make was pre-approved. This might be because she's a graduate stylist which means she's only been out of school (she called it college which I think indicates she's had some pretty formal training beyond the basic beauty school) for a short while, less than two years. (The terms seem to indicate both how long the stylist has been out of school as well as how much additional training a stylist has had. Basically, the more complicated a cut or color job wanted, the higher up the ladder you would go to ensure it's done well.) It might also just be how the salon works since no one seemed to be in much of a hurry. (That might be a cultural thing too.) She might have been that methodical because I looked nervous. I generally have the opinion that it's hair and it'll grow back-- then again, I've been taking a lot of pictures and I don't really want to create lasting memories of me with a terrible haircut. And, the whole booking process was just different enough that it threw me a bit (for all I knew, they were laughing at me in the back for being dumb enough to go with graduate stylist) that I was a little worried about what was going to happen. When I think about it though, their system does make more sense, even if it is more complicated-- the levels of experience aren't nearly as well denoted in the US.
It all turned out well. I got a lovely head massage while she was washing my hair. And, the haircut is really quite good-- a tiny bit shorter than I probably would have wanted (the "fringe" got cut a little to make it blend which means it'll be that much longer growing it out-- and now it's just slightly too short to tuck behind my ears as I had been doing) but that's not a bad thing in the end. It might mean that I can make it another couple months before getting my hair cut again which is good since getting a hair cut in England is more expensive than in the US. I can't afford to do it as often as I would there.
I'm glad not to have photos of my hair cut since no one looks good in progress; but even happier that I don't have photos (or video) of my first "real tennis" lesson. I've written about going to watch real tennis-- and in lieu of being able to play actual tennis (or, lawn tennis as it seems to be differentiated here-- even if the court isn't a lawn court. Just saying tennis works too-- unless in the context of a "real tennis" lesson when it all starts to become confusing), I've decided to learn how to play the game which is its origin. I think learn might be optimistic-- there's only one "real tennis" club in Oxford and that club only has one court and that court is booked a lot. And, I think it would take much more than the few lessons I'm going to be able to fit in to really learn to play. But, in just one lesson, I did get some of the basics.
I had a one hour lesson scheduled with Craig-- my somewhat distractingly cute instructor. He was really encouraging and kept telling me I had good from, but I suspect he was exaggerating a bit. I will say that the fact that I play tennis helped a bit-- mostly because aim seems to be incredibly important in real tennis (I should stop using the quotation marks...it's not like that's not the real name) and I do know how to hit a ball with a racquet and make it go in an intentional direction. However, that is made harder by the fact that the racquet head is much, much smaller and the racquet itself is much, much heavier.
It's also asymmetrical-- flat on one end so that it can better scrape along the floor. Because the ball often bounces that low. (I think you can see the asymmetry better in the second picture.)
The ball itself is also heavier. They are all handmade-- and this means that the stitching creates a ridge on the ball.
So, not only does it tend to not bounce up, the ridges mean that it doesn't necessarily take a true bounce. Of course, the fact that it's coming off the walls like it might in racquetball doesn't help that whole bounce predictability either. So, while I can aim pretty well when I actually get the racquet on the ball, the potential for missing altogether is pretty high.
Craig started me off with forehands-- but that doesn't just mean hitting the ball from the forehand side. No-- it means that he would toss the ball towards the dedans overhand, let it roll down and then I would have to hit it.
It's much harder to hit a ball when it's coming from behind, especially when not only do you want to hit it, but also aim it towards the tambour and/or grille. The tambour is a section of the wall that has an angle to it-- if the ball hits it, it tends to shoot off wildly, making a return quite difficult. The grille is a small section of the wall, an inset box really, which if hit is an automatic point. (I hit it twice! I managed to hit the tambour quite a bit-- it's a bigger target.) In my head, this translated to having to go down the line with my forehand a lot. (There is no "line" to go down, but that's the direction.)
From here, Craig when to the other side of the net and fed me forehands-- this was unfortunately the point where spectators showed up. They got to watch the part where I missed the ball entirely. (It took me a few feeds to get the sense of how low the ball would bounce when simply coming off the floor rather than rolling of the overhang. I was swinging above the ball for the first few tries.) Then, the two guys who had been standing in the dedans decided they were "putting me off" so they left-- and totally missed the moment when I actually did hit the ball and get it over the net. I'm sure they were in the lounge talking about the silly American girl who couldn't even hit the ball-- but maybe it was them being there. I was better once they were gone. Being able to hit the ball flat is a great advantage in real tennis-- and flat is my natural shot, so that also helped me though there were some times when I hit with topspin (which is funny because I don't really have a topspin shot at all in actual tennis). Topspin shots have the opposite effect in real tennis of what an actual tennis player would expect; rather than create net clearance, it sends the ball into the net, pretty much at the bottom of it. It's not so much that I was intentionally creating a topspin shot-- I think it's that the racquet is so much heavier that sometimes it was hard to keep in the correct position and so the resulting motion made me come over the ball. But, I think Craig has the impression that I have a pretty good topspin tennis shot, so why delusion him?
We did the same process with backhands, only the goal here was to hit cross court (a term which makes more sense than down-the-line since there is a court to cross) since that again aims the ball towards the tambour and grille. Craig kept commenting on my backhand technique and how good it was-- surprisingly better than my forehand (I think my forehand is my better shot in actual tennis...). It might be that hitting cross court is an easier shot than going down-the-line in general. My forehand cross court did look pretty good-- it's just that that's not the smart shot in real tennis. And, I have a pretty big follow-through on my forehand-- the follow-through is not a help in real tennis. Hitting a real tennis shot is a lot more like hitting a volley-- and, I do like my backhand volley better than my forehand one.
From forehands and backhands, we moved onto the serve. The serve is strange in real tennis-- it doesn't really matter how you hit it. Underhand, overhand-- either is good. What matters is that you have to hit the overhang on the opposite side of the court. And then the ball has to hit in the service box, but that's really not a problem since it's so much larger than the service box in actual tennis. Getting the ball in the service box was easy for me. What isn't as easy is that the idea on the serve is to aim for the crevice between the wall and the floor pretty close to the service wall side. That makes it almost impossible to return the ball. (Craig put out a basket where I was ideally aiming-- I did manage to hit that twice as well. And, I came close a lot-- close created a pretty good serve.) Once I got used to tossing the ball lower than I would for my actual tennis serve, I was pretty good. Serving is probably the strongest part of my real tennis game (though, my shoulder was quite sore later. I haven't served at all in a couple months and doing it with a significantly heavier racquet than I'm used to was clearly not something my poor shoulder was prepared for. Fortunately, some extra-strength ibuprofen seems to have fixed that.). Returning serve, on the other hand, I'm pretty awful. (Again, interesting since I think the return of serve is the best part of my actual tennis game.) Ideally, when returning serve, you would take the ball as it comes off the wall. It turns out, it's really hard to predict where a ball is going to be when it's coming off a wall and is coming from behind you. For a while, Craig was serving to me so that the ball was falling from the service wall overhand and landing in front of me-- that I could return. But, no one would serve that way intentionally in real tennis (at least not on a first serve-- there are two serves in real tennis as well, though not nearly as much need for the second serve) because simply rolling the ball of the overhang makes the serve a pretty easy shot to return. No-- the server would ideally create a shot that rolls off the overhang, bounces on the floor and spins towards the back wall necessitating taking the ball out of the air before it bounces a second time on the floor (which would be a winning point). I can create that serve, but I can't return it. Frankly, when it looks like tennis (the ball hitting the floor and bouncing in front of me), I'm pretty good. But, since that happens rarely (really, only when Craig is intentionally feeding it to me that way), overall I'm not a natural at real tennis. It's really unnatural to think about spinning around to take a ball from behind-- which is why when we played one game at the end, Craig beat me at love (He didn't even try to let me win a point, which on one level I appreciate since I don't really want to be given anything, but on the level where I'm competitive and don't like losing, it kind of sucked to not even be able to get a point, especially since I don't think Craig was having to work too hard to beat me.).
On the plus side-- Craig does keep insisting I have good form. I'm going back for another lesson in a little more than a week and we're going to start by playing actual points so I can get used to the completely random bounces. I guess if he were lying to me about technique, we wouldn't be starting with actual game play next time. And, this could actually have a good effect on my actual tennis game-- "watch the ball" is a mantra in actual tennis, but there's just no way to play real tennis without constantly keeping an eye on the ball, especially since it's bouncing off overhangs and walls and moving in unpredictable ways. So this should help my focus. And my footwork-- the unpredictability means you can't be flatfooted. Ever. And, it may help my volley as well-- or at least my half volley (there isn't much rushing the net to take a volley out of the air in a traditional way-- while taking the net in actual tennis is often an advantage, it is a serious disadvantage in real tennis since it leaves the corners, grill, tambour and walls all vulnerable.). At the very least, it felt good to hit a ball again-- which I managed to do more than I missed. That probably makes it a successful first real tennis outing.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Historical Renovations
This week, I returned to Stradford-upon-Avon to see the historical houses my mom, sister, and I hadn't gotten to and went to London to visit Henry VIII's place, Hampton Court Place-- and in both places, I found myself incredulous that these historical sites had been renovated. We use different adjectives to describe what happened because it strikes many people as history being destroyed rather than homes being remodeled. But, it's really no different from what any of us do to homes today-- so why does it seem like such a crime that others were doing it in the 16th and 17th centuries?
Because my friend Judy hadn't been to Stratford at all, I returned to Shakespeare's birthplace house with her. We went in the middle of the week during a tourist down time for the town (the Royal Shakespeare Company is dark for about another week, so there are no plays to see. And, it's mid-October.)-- so it was easier to enjoy at a leisurely pace this time. And, just because there was nothing on at RSC didn't mean there was no performance to be had. Outside of Shakespeare's birthplace were three men who would perform scenes on request-- it's much the same way a cover musician will take song requests, only more impressive since it was Shakespeare.
The pamphlet says this "Shakespeare Aloud" is performed all year, though there was nothing like this when I went the first time. Of course, the first time I was there, my mom, sister and I were distinctly told that our tickets to all the Shakespeare sites were good for 7 days (I remember this clearly because I was thinking I wanted to go back and finish seeing the homes and that it was a shame I wouldn't make it within the week); this time, I was told my ticket is good for a year (and, it says on it that it's good for a year). I've discovered that some other rules relating to tourist sites have changed (like where you can and can't take photos) as well which makes me wonder about how these rules are made and if those "in the know" know that they only apply sometimes.
From Shakespeare's Birthplace, we went on to New Place and Nash's House. This is, by far, the most confusing of sites, not only in Stratford, but that I've been to so far. I didn't really understand what we had been looking at until we had gone to another Shakespeare House (Holl's Croft) and, after being given giant laminated information sheets, remarked to the docent there that this kind of thing would have been helpful at Nash's House (apparently, these sheets exist in other languages at Nash's House, but not in English-- it may be the only place where those who didn't speak English left more informed). What is confusing-- because it's largely unexplained (the "poster" in the house doesn't make it clear)-- is that it is no longer the house that Shakespeare's family is associated with. New Place was Shakespeare's last home (he bought it for 60 pounds-- a house for 60 pounds!)-- it's where he died in 1616. However, what stands there now (I think-- it's a bit unclear what the part that is left actually is) is a part of Nash's house--New Place itself was leveled. Nash's house was where Shakespeare's granddaughter lived. Unlike all the other houses, this site really only has one room "set up" as it would have been. The rest of the rooms have displays, though they're pretty mediocre and not well explained.
New Place, after Shakespeare's family, was owned by the Reverend Francis Gastrell who, frustrated by the fact that people kept coming to his house wanting to see where Shakespeare died, annoyed by protests to renovations he wanted to make (like tearing out a Mulberry tree supposedly planted by Shakespeare), and angered by the high taxes he was being charged, demolished the house (which seems horrible to us now-- though I'm pretty sure it was horrible even when he did this in the late 1700s. He did seem to do it largely out of spite.)-- and then left the rubble sitting there because he didn't want to pay to have it removed. It's this rubble and the remains of the foundations which are currently being excavated.
Most of it lies under gardens, like this, which were built over the remains.
The irony is that it seems like now gardens are being destroyed in order to find the remains of New Place-- so something else is being destroyed that might later be deemed "historical."
However, as I learned from overhearing a conversation with an archeologist who happened to be there, those doing the excavation are working on borrowed time-- while they've discovered more remains of the Shakespeare home in the "backyard" that no one new was there, they were only given permission to dig for a year, and when the weather gets colder, it'll become impossible to dig, so it's not clear how much further than this the work is going to go (though, I would guess that they wouldn't just leave it sitting like this forever). This is in the "back". It's what they think is part of an outer house associated with New Place-- you can see from the green grass how they are digging in what is a fully developed garden.
From here, we went to Holl's Croft (which is where a lot of what I wrote above was explained to us) which was the home of Shakespeare's daughter, Susanna.
Susanna married a wealthy doctor-- it's pretty clear from the furnishings (and, the size of the house) how wealthy they must have been. And, I was able to take pictures inside the house-- something I was told by the docent was new. Photos had just started being allowed in the last two weeks. I'm not sure if that's because high tourist season was over and when high tourist season resumes, photos will again be prohibited or if this is a new and permanent thing. At any rate-- I have pictures of places like their bedroom and dining room.
The back garden is really pretty too.
From Holl's Croft, we headed out to Anne Hathaway's home-- it's a bit of a trek, about a 25 minute walk that takes you through the field of a school. If it weren't for the signs, placed along the route at intervals that come right as you're beginning to think you've gotten off the path (it's like they knew where tourists would pause and think "am I going the right way?"), you would never know you were headed in the right direction. Eventually, you do get to the home.
And, again, photos are allowed, so I could take photos of where Anne Hathaway's family ate and slept. Originally, the house was just this room and one other-- and it didn't include the fireplace. It's hard to imagine such a large family (there were multiple children and, of course, the parents) living in such a small place.
But as the family grew in wealth, they added onto the house to include more living space and bedrooms (and chimneys, so that there could be actual fireplaces). It's one of the few "renovations" that made historical sense-- in the sense that it didn't seem to change the integrity of the place or "ruin" history. And, you can tell how old it is just by the uneven and sagging floors upstairs (It does make me wonder how long people will be able to tour, at least without some kind of structural renovation-- it seems like at some point, it'll become unsafe to walk on the upstairs floors.).
We also had time to walk around the gardens and woods at Anne Hathaway's house-- since there are schools nearby, these areas are decorated in conjunction with school projects, like the Woodland Faeries Walk. Basically, children have placed these "fairies" all along the trail through the woods. It's very cool that there is so much engagement with the local schools, but the whole thing, especially if you walk it as the sun is going down, is a bit creepy since it doesn't so much look like fairies are flying around the woods as that they've been executed in various ways, like by hanging.
Or crucifixion.
There are multi-ethnic fairies, though they too look to have been hung.
It was a strange walk.
Despite how much tourist activity there must be in Stratford, trains aren't particularly frequent. We didn't make the trek back from Anne Hathaway's house in time to catch the 5:40 train, so we had about and hour and a half to kill-- which seemed like the perfect amount of time to duck into a pub.
This is the first pub I've been in that I would really compare to a "hole-in-the-wall" bar in the US, though it still seemed nicer that the comparative bar. It clearly had regulars-- and it doesn't serve food. But, the beer was less expensive and the bartender was really nice to us-- I get the feeling American women don't wander in too often.
What I had been looking forward to in Stratford was the Teddy Bear Museum-- there was a sign for it when my mom, sister and I had been there. However, when I asked about it, I was told I was too late-- it closed down in 2008. All that remains is the Teddy Bear Shop, which sells stuffed animals, and this giant teddy bear dressed in Elizabethan clothing.
The next day was off to Hampton Court, the overwhelmingly large palace of Henry VIII (and, other subsequent kings and queens).
That's not even the whole thing-- I couldn't get it all in one picture. The Palace shows signs of the renovations it underwent as well-- it was given to Henry VIII by Cardinal Wolsey (who had been given it by the Pope) and Henry clearly built on. But then, as it passed into the hands of other kings and queens, they tore down and rebuilt portions of the castle to model it more to the fashion of the day-- and, to demonstrate their wealth and power. In fact, Henry's original palace probably would have been totally torn down if some of the wealth hadn't run out on William and Mary making it impossible to finish their Baroque plans (I'm sure there have been countless jokes about how going Baroque made them broke...). So, the place is half Tudor, half Baroque. (The picture above is really the Tudor part. It's easier to see the Baroque style from the interiors.) Given the posted description of Henry VIII, the grandeur isn't surprising--I'm guessing pompous and extravagant go hand-in-hand with tyrannical and vicious.
The scale of everything is amazing, but nowhere more amazing than in the kitchen display. It makes sense; they were feeding hundreds and hundreds of people every day. So, they needed a kitchen like this, with multiple giant fireplaces and grills to cook.
Here, I did learn about the origin of "pies" (think pot-pie, not the dessert...though that too, I think). Initially, the pie part was the cooking device-- the pie shells were cooked and hot and then the fillings placed in them and covered with the remaining pastry to cook. And, because the pies were considered the cooking device, they weren't eaten; rather, the crust was sliced off the top and people ate out the filling, discarding the pastry which seems so strange since I often think the pastry is the best part of the pie. (It was not explained at what point people did realize that the crust was tasty and started eating it, so I have no idea how long it took for people to catch on the wonderfulness that pie crust can be.)
In addition to there being a lot of food, there was also a lot of wine.
That's only a portion of the wine cellar-- 600,000 gallons were consumed every year. And, that's just by the members of the court (presumably, since they considered the water undrinkable, the servants and cooks drank too. Even kids drank wine and beer then.).
The grandeur continues in Henry's apartments-- everything, like the dining hall, is big.
Even the staircases.
A lot of stuff is dark too. While photography is allowed pretty much everywhere (exceptions are the Chapel and the room with Henry's crown), pictures are hard to take because the lighting is so dim. That might have been partially due to the weather-- it never stopped raining the day we were there and so it was pretty dark outside. But, I'm also guessing good lighting wasn't too much of a Tudor or Georgian concern; this meant a lot of my pictures didn't really come out, even with flash. It's sort of a shame because the opulence deserves to be captured on film.
There's an audio guide to listen to while walking through all the sections of the palace, even the outside courtyards, like Clock Court.
And Base Court (I'm unclear who named it this-- I don't know if this is what it was named in Henry VIII's time, but I'm guessing it's the modern name since this is the court around which most of the separate touring areas are centered, making it the "base" to get back to in order to start exploring another part of the castle.).
Despite the fact that the audio guide often told us that William didn't really like the attention and public displays that went with being king, his apartments are no less grand than Henry's-- though they are often smaller. There's a great hall to enter into first-- it has one of the most artistic weapons displays ever and I tried to photograph from every angle and with every variation of flash I could. This is the best I could get-- you can see the drums under the round window. On the other wall are guns hung in really interesting and decorative patterns, but it's impossible to see in the pictures.
The receiving rooms were a bit better lit, but not much.
His study was attached to his "necessary room." (It's not really crooked-- it's in a really narrow, roped off space so I was taking the picture around a corner.)
In theory, since the study (and the bathroom, obviously) are not meant for the public, it's less "showy." As is this private dining room. But, it's hard to believe this is "plain."
William and Mary's rooms are the part of the palace which were rebuilt-- what stood here before in Henry's time no one seems sure of. Other "renovations" were part of the Georgian apartments which were a bit brighter (that's a relative term though, as you can see)-- with furniture of equally impressive scale.
And, with impressive ceilings that show some attempt to let a little light in.
William and Mary were also largely responsible for building the gardens at Hampton Court-- this was a passion of theirs, and so the gardens have flowers and plants from around the world. They asked for these varieties as gifts and collected them when they traveled. (I like that the trees look like giant mushrooms.)
While not pictured here, there are also quite a few large cacti. Neither Judy nor I could figure out how they survive (since cold and wet doesn't seem like the ideal conditions for a cactus)-- we asked and were told that many of the plants are brought inside right before the first frost and tended to in a greenhouse. (In fact, if you are a tourist who speaks English and ask the docents any question at all, you can learn a lot-- they really like to talk about the places where they work. They're clearly not just people who are there to keep you from touching all the expensive art-- they know anything and everything about the place. So, near the end, Judy and I were going through the exhibit dedicated to Henry's marriage to Katherine of Aragon, and asked one question about the royal line and then were treated to a personal guided tour of the paintings hanging there which, when explained, really do tell a lot about the history of Henry's early life on the throne. We learned stuff you couldn't possibly know just by looking at the painting-- unless you had spent a lot of time looking at them and were immersed in Henry VIII scholarship, which our impromptu guide clearly was. She was also really excited to tell us about what she knew and I'm pretty sure we only heard a small fraction of her knowledge. It's really amazing what these people know-- some of it is fascinating minutia that gives real insight into how these people lived. It's well worth engaging with the people who work at all these sites-- it adds a lot.)
Where the plants and trees are no longer kept is in the Orange Hall which William had built as a place to bring in the orange trees and other plants to keep them safe. Now it holds statues.
So, there is a long tradition of cultivating plants and flowers. Hampton Court is also home to the world's largest vine.
You can tell just from the root bundle how big it is. Grapes are still harvested from it.
It is the only indoor grape vine I've ever seen.
Hampton Court Palace is amazing-- and overwhelming. By the time we left, which was basically as it was closing (we were pretty much the last people there), we were on information overload. And, ready for dinner. We went back to the Piccadilly Circus area and ate at Il Cucciolo-- a fabulous Italian Restaurant. Really, so good-- I took a picture of my spaghetti bolognaise, but it doesn't do it justice. The restaurant itself is warm and inviting.
It is also home to a wide assortment of differently sized pepper grinders-- not because there are different peppers in them, but because different sizes are required to reach the tables, depending on where they are located. It's a bit of a tight squeeze in some areas of the restaurant-- but there are very long pepper grinders to accommodate this.
Since there was no pub crawling on this day, we went to get fancy desserts instead.
The dessertery was up the street from where we had dinner, but located in the same area where stores like Versace are, and the prices did reflect the sudden change in shopping. We discovered Caffe Concerto when we were looking for a place to eat-- there is a clear divide in Piccadilly Circus. One side of the circle has stores like the M&M store and Cool Britannia (a store with every piece of tourist junk you could want) and reasonably priced restaurants-- and the other side has Versace and exorbitant (and very fancy) restaurants where desserts like these cost about 5.30 ($8.50 American. Our entrees at Il Cucciolo didn't cost too much more than our desserts.). But, it was Judy's last night here-- and we'd been touring the opulence of King Henry VIII's palace. A little splurge seemed warranted.
Because my friend Judy hadn't been to Stratford at all, I returned to Shakespeare's birthplace house with her. We went in the middle of the week during a tourist down time for the town (the Royal Shakespeare Company is dark for about another week, so there are no plays to see. And, it's mid-October.)-- so it was easier to enjoy at a leisurely pace this time. And, just because there was nothing on at RSC didn't mean there was no performance to be had. Outside of Shakespeare's birthplace were three men who would perform scenes on request-- it's much the same way a cover musician will take song requests, only more impressive since it was Shakespeare.
The pamphlet says this "Shakespeare Aloud" is performed all year, though there was nothing like this when I went the first time. Of course, the first time I was there, my mom, sister and I were distinctly told that our tickets to all the Shakespeare sites were good for 7 days (I remember this clearly because I was thinking I wanted to go back and finish seeing the homes and that it was a shame I wouldn't make it within the week); this time, I was told my ticket is good for a year (and, it says on it that it's good for a year). I've discovered that some other rules relating to tourist sites have changed (like where you can and can't take photos) as well which makes me wonder about how these rules are made and if those "in the know" know that they only apply sometimes.
From Shakespeare's Birthplace, we went on to New Place and Nash's House. This is, by far, the most confusing of sites, not only in Stratford, but that I've been to so far. I didn't really understand what we had been looking at until we had gone to another Shakespeare House (Holl's Croft) and, after being given giant laminated information sheets, remarked to the docent there that this kind of thing would have been helpful at Nash's House (apparently, these sheets exist in other languages at Nash's House, but not in English-- it may be the only place where those who didn't speak English left more informed). What is confusing-- because it's largely unexplained (the "poster" in the house doesn't make it clear)-- is that it is no longer the house that Shakespeare's family is associated with. New Place was Shakespeare's last home (he bought it for 60 pounds-- a house for 60 pounds!)-- it's where he died in 1616. However, what stands there now (I think-- it's a bit unclear what the part that is left actually is) is a part of Nash's house--New Place itself was leveled. Nash's house was where Shakespeare's granddaughter lived. Unlike all the other houses, this site really only has one room "set up" as it would have been. The rest of the rooms have displays, though they're pretty mediocre and not well explained.
New Place, after Shakespeare's family, was owned by the Reverend Francis Gastrell who, frustrated by the fact that people kept coming to his house wanting to see where Shakespeare died, annoyed by protests to renovations he wanted to make (like tearing out a Mulberry tree supposedly planted by Shakespeare), and angered by the high taxes he was being charged, demolished the house (which seems horrible to us now-- though I'm pretty sure it was horrible even when he did this in the late 1700s. He did seem to do it largely out of spite.)-- and then left the rubble sitting there because he didn't want to pay to have it removed. It's this rubble and the remains of the foundations which are currently being excavated.
Most of it lies under gardens, like this, which were built over the remains.
The irony is that it seems like now gardens are being destroyed in order to find the remains of New Place-- so something else is being destroyed that might later be deemed "historical."
However, as I learned from overhearing a conversation with an archeologist who happened to be there, those doing the excavation are working on borrowed time-- while they've discovered more remains of the Shakespeare home in the "backyard" that no one new was there, they were only given permission to dig for a year, and when the weather gets colder, it'll become impossible to dig, so it's not clear how much further than this the work is going to go (though, I would guess that they wouldn't just leave it sitting like this forever). This is in the "back". It's what they think is part of an outer house associated with New Place-- you can see from the green grass how they are digging in what is a fully developed garden.
From here, we went to Holl's Croft (which is where a lot of what I wrote above was explained to us) which was the home of Shakespeare's daughter, Susanna.
Susanna married a wealthy doctor-- it's pretty clear from the furnishings (and, the size of the house) how wealthy they must have been. And, I was able to take pictures inside the house-- something I was told by the docent was new. Photos had just started being allowed in the last two weeks. I'm not sure if that's because high tourist season was over and when high tourist season resumes, photos will again be prohibited or if this is a new and permanent thing. At any rate-- I have pictures of places like their bedroom and dining room.
The back garden is really pretty too.
From Holl's Croft, we headed out to Anne Hathaway's home-- it's a bit of a trek, about a 25 minute walk that takes you through the field of a school. If it weren't for the signs, placed along the route at intervals that come right as you're beginning to think you've gotten off the path (it's like they knew where tourists would pause and think "am I going the right way?"), you would never know you were headed in the right direction. Eventually, you do get to the home.
And, again, photos are allowed, so I could take photos of where Anne Hathaway's family ate and slept. Originally, the house was just this room and one other-- and it didn't include the fireplace. It's hard to imagine such a large family (there were multiple children and, of course, the parents) living in such a small place.
But as the family grew in wealth, they added onto the house to include more living space and bedrooms (and chimneys, so that there could be actual fireplaces). It's one of the few "renovations" that made historical sense-- in the sense that it didn't seem to change the integrity of the place or "ruin" history. And, you can tell how old it is just by the uneven and sagging floors upstairs (It does make me wonder how long people will be able to tour, at least without some kind of structural renovation-- it seems like at some point, it'll become unsafe to walk on the upstairs floors.).
We also had time to walk around the gardens and woods at Anne Hathaway's house-- since there are schools nearby, these areas are decorated in conjunction with school projects, like the Woodland Faeries Walk. Basically, children have placed these "fairies" all along the trail through the woods. It's very cool that there is so much engagement with the local schools, but the whole thing, especially if you walk it as the sun is going down, is a bit creepy since it doesn't so much look like fairies are flying around the woods as that they've been executed in various ways, like by hanging.
There are multi-ethnic fairies, though they too look to have been hung.
It was a strange walk.
Despite how much tourist activity there must be in Stratford, trains aren't particularly frequent. We didn't make the trek back from Anne Hathaway's house in time to catch the 5:40 train, so we had about and hour and a half to kill-- which seemed like the perfect amount of time to duck into a pub.
This is the first pub I've been in that I would really compare to a "hole-in-the-wall" bar in the US, though it still seemed nicer that the comparative bar. It clearly had regulars-- and it doesn't serve food. But, the beer was less expensive and the bartender was really nice to us-- I get the feeling American women don't wander in too often.
What I had been looking forward to in Stratford was the Teddy Bear Museum-- there was a sign for it when my mom, sister and I had been there. However, when I asked about it, I was told I was too late-- it closed down in 2008. All that remains is the Teddy Bear Shop, which sells stuffed animals, and this giant teddy bear dressed in Elizabethan clothing.
The next day was off to Hampton Court, the overwhelmingly large palace of Henry VIII (and, other subsequent kings and queens).
That's not even the whole thing-- I couldn't get it all in one picture. The Palace shows signs of the renovations it underwent as well-- it was given to Henry VIII by Cardinal Wolsey (who had been given it by the Pope) and Henry clearly built on. But then, as it passed into the hands of other kings and queens, they tore down and rebuilt portions of the castle to model it more to the fashion of the day-- and, to demonstrate their wealth and power. In fact, Henry's original palace probably would have been totally torn down if some of the wealth hadn't run out on William and Mary making it impossible to finish their Baroque plans (I'm sure there have been countless jokes about how going Baroque made them broke...). So, the place is half Tudor, half Baroque. (The picture above is really the Tudor part. It's easier to see the Baroque style from the interiors.) Given the posted description of Henry VIII, the grandeur isn't surprising--I'm guessing pompous and extravagant go hand-in-hand with tyrannical and vicious.
The scale of everything is amazing, but nowhere more amazing than in the kitchen display. It makes sense; they were feeding hundreds and hundreds of people every day. So, they needed a kitchen like this, with multiple giant fireplaces and grills to cook.
Here, I did learn about the origin of "pies" (think pot-pie, not the dessert...though that too, I think). Initially, the pie part was the cooking device-- the pie shells were cooked and hot and then the fillings placed in them and covered with the remaining pastry to cook. And, because the pies were considered the cooking device, they weren't eaten; rather, the crust was sliced off the top and people ate out the filling, discarding the pastry which seems so strange since I often think the pastry is the best part of the pie. (It was not explained at what point people did realize that the crust was tasty and started eating it, so I have no idea how long it took for people to catch on the wonderfulness that pie crust can be.)
In addition to there being a lot of food, there was also a lot of wine.
That's only a portion of the wine cellar-- 600,000 gallons were consumed every year. And, that's just by the members of the court (presumably, since they considered the water undrinkable, the servants and cooks drank too. Even kids drank wine and beer then.).
The grandeur continues in Henry's apartments-- everything, like the dining hall, is big.
Even the staircases.
A lot of stuff is dark too. While photography is allowed pretty much everywhere (exceptions are the Chapel and the room with Henry's crown), pictures are hard to take because the lighting is so dim. That might have been partially due to the weather-- it never stopped raining the day we were there and so it was pretty dark outside. But, I'm also guessing good lighting wasn't too much of a Tudor or Georgian concern; this meant a lot of my pictures didn't really come out, even with flash. It's sort of a shame because the opulence deserves to be captured on film.
There's an audio guide to listen to while walking through all the sections of the palace, even the outside courtyards, like Clock Court.
And Base Court (I'm unclear who named it this-- I don't know if this is what it was named in Henry VIII's time, but I'm guessing it's the modern name since this is the court around which most of the separate touring areas are centered, making it the "base" to get back to in order to start exploring another part of the castle.).
Despite the fact that the audio guide often told us that William didn't really like the attention and public displays that went with being king, his apartments are no less grand than Henry's-- though they are often smaller. There's a great hall to enter into first-- it has one of the most artistic weapons displays ever and I tried to photograph from every angle and with every variation of flash I could. This is the best I could get-- you can see the drums under the round window. On the other wall are guns hung in really interesting and decorative patterns, but it's impossible to see in the pictures.
The receiving rooms were a bit better lit, but not much.
That's one of the thrones William sat on to receive petitioners. We walked through successive rooms of chairs-- apparently, the farther through the rooms a person could get, the more important he or she was. Interestingly, the last chair-- where the most important people were received-- was the most plain. It kind of looked like a regular arm chair.
The audio guide tells us that William much preferred to spend time in his private rooms, like his study.
His study was attached to his "necessary room." (It's not really crooked-- it's in a really narrow, roped off space so I was taking the picture around a corner.)
In theory, since the study (and the bathroom, obviously) are not meant for the public, it's less "showy." As is this private dining room. But, it's hard to believe this is "plain."
William and Mary's rooms are the part of the palace which were rebuilt-- what stood here before in Henry's time no one seems sure of. Other "renovations" were part of the Georgian apartments which were a bit brighter (that's a relative term though, as you can see)-- with furniture of equally impressive scale.
And, with impressive ceilings that show some attempt to let a little light in.
William and Mary were also largely responsible for building the gardens at Hampton Court-- this was a passion of theirs, and so the gardens have flowers and plants from around the world. They asked for these varieties as gifts and collected them when they traveled. (I like that the trees look like giant mushrooms.)
While not pictured here, there are also quite a few large cacti. Neither Judy nor I could figure out how they survive (since cold and wet doesn't seem like the ideal conditions for a cactus)-- we asked and were told that many of the plants are brought inside right before the first frost and tended to in a greenhouse. (In fact, if you are a tourist who speaks English and ask the docents any question at all, you can learn a lot-- they really like to talk about the places where they work. They're clearly not just people who are there to keep you from touching all the expensive art-- they know anything and everything about the place. So, near the end, Judy and I were going through the exhibit dedicated to Henry's marriage to Katherine of Aragon, and asked one question about the royal line and then were treated to a personal guided tour of the paintings hanging there which, when explained, really do tell a lot about the history of Henry's early life on the throne. We learned stuff you couldn't possibly know just by looking at the painting-- unless you had spent a lot of time looking at them and were immersed in Henry VIII scholarship, which our impromptu guide clearly was. She was also really excited to tell us about what she knew and I'm pretty sure we only heard a small fraction of her knowledge. It's really amazing what these people know-- some of it is fascinating minutia that gives real insight into how these people lived. It's well worth engaging with the people who work at all these sites-- it adds a lot.)
Where the plants and trees are no longer kept is in the Orange Hall which William had built as a place to bring in the orange trees and other plants to keep them safe. Now it holds statues.
So, there is a long tradition of cultivating plants and flowers. Hampton Court is also home to the world's largest vine.
You can tell just from the root bundle how big it is. Grapes are still harvested from it.
It is the only indoor grape vine I've ever seen.
Hampton Court Palace is amazing-- and overwhelming. By the time we left, which was basically as it was closing (we were pretty much the last people there), we were on information overload. And, ready for dinner. We went back to the Piccadilly Circus area and ate at Il Cucciolo-- a fabulous Italian Restaurant. Really, so good-- I took a picture of my spaghetti bolognaise, but it doesn't do it justice. The restaurant itself is warm and inviting.
It is also home to a wide assortment of differently sized pepper grinders-- not because there are different peppers in them, but because different sizes are required to reach the tables, depending on where they are located. It's a bit of a tight squeeze in some areas of the restaurant-- but there are very long pepper grinders to accommodate this.
Since there was no pub crawling on this day, we went to get fancy desserts instead.
The dessertery was up the street from where we had dinner, but located in the same area where stores like Versace are, and the prices did reflect the sudden change in shopping. We discovered Caffe Concerto when we were looking for a place to eat-- there is a clear divide in Piccadilly Circus. One side of the circle has stores like the M&M store and Cool Britannia (a store with every piece of tourist junk you could want) and reasonably priced restaurants-- and the other side has Versace and exorbitant (and very fancy) restaurants where desserts like these cost about 5.30 ($8.50 American. Our entrees at Il Cucciolo didn't cost too much more than our desserts.). But, it was Judy's last night here-- and we'd been touring the opulence of King Henry VIII's palace. A little splurge seemed warranted.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Harry Potter and the Elongated Pub Tour
My friend Judy came to visit and, as with everyone, the first day was spent simply trying to keep her awake. This means walking a lot-- it's hard to fall asleep when walking. We did, however, happen to be going by the Bodleian a few minutes before a tour was going to begin, so we did that-- I haven't been inside the Bodleian yet, so that was nice (I like finding new things to do with visitors rather than repeating stuff. That gets boring for me.). Like with many historic places, photos aren't allowed in most of it, so I don't have pictures of the actual Duke Humphrey Library with really cool books and shelves and great architecture. Those at the Bodleian are so serious about this, they make you lock up your bags and cameras before going upstairs into Duke Humphrey's Library (named for a prime benefactor). Pictures in the lower level, the divinity school (no longer used as a divinity school-- but you can hire it out for a wedding or other event), are allowed however.
What is most interesting about this section, to me at least, is that it took a really long time to build because Oxford University kept running out of money. Eventually, there was what amounted to a fundraising drive-- the reward for donating money was that your family crest was worked into the decoration on the ceiling.
There are a lot of family crests, so I guess it was a good fundraiser. It allowed the Divinity School to be finished, at any rate.
Judy's first day here also marked the start of what I've decided is our very slow pub crawl-- slow because it seems to have maxed out at two pubs a day. But, we've been good about trying new pubs, ones I haven't been too (though, we did do Turf Tavern the first day because I sort of feel like people should see it-- and, it has really good food). After our Bodleian tour and walk around Christ's Church (which does sit near the Thames), we went to Head of the River, which sits at the top of the Thames walk. I've passed by it a few times (thus, there are pictures of the outside in another blog), but I've never gone in. It looks like an English pub should, right down to the fireplace which is stoked with coal, not wood.
(That's Judy jet-lagged-- though, to be fair, she made it until about 7 pm before she hit the jet-lag wall. It was pretty impressive.) The rest of our week (and as I'm writing, it's not yet over) is more ambitious.
As kitschy and touristy as I know it is, I'm in England-- I had to go to the studios where Harry Potter was filmed. It's not a hard trek from Oxford, but it's not the easiest one either-- which does explain why many people pay 55 pounds to take the Harry Potter tour bus (which is just a bus with Harry Potter themed stuff painted on it that goes to the studios) rather than just the 28 pounds it costs to get in which requires you find your own way. Taking the tour bus requires getting off the bus from Oxford at the Victoria Coach Station and getting onto the Harry Potter bus. If you decide to find your own way, as Judy and I did, you get off at Victoria Train station (basically the same place as the coach station), then take the tube to a different train station, then take a train to Watford Junction and then take another bus from the train station to the studios-- which actually sounds more complicated than it felt at the time, but which is still an exercise in learning how London transports of all kinds work. Finally, however, you will arrive at the Harry Potter Studio Tour--hopefully within 30 minutes of your assigned ticket time. You can't just buy a ticket to the studios when you finally get there-- you have to book for a specific tour time in advance. It all worked out-- we had tickets for 2 pm and got to the studios at 1:50. It was amazingly timed.
It would be easier to get into Fort Knox or the White House than the Harry Potter Studios. We had to pick up our tickets when we got there. To pick up our tickets, I needed the confirmation number I had been sent and then once my booking had been found, I needed a photo ID to prove it was me who had made the booking. Once inside, we had to show our tickets to someone to be allowed to stand in line (queue-- I know) to get into the studio and then we had to have our tickets scanned before we were allowed into the studio proper. There must be A LOT of Harry Potter ticket fraud going on to require so many checks.
While waiting in line, there are a few exhibits like large photos of key actors, generally one from the first movie and one from the last movie to show how they've grown up over time. And, as we inched closer to the doors that would let us into the sound stages (by luck, it's sound stages J and K-- or at least those at the tour say it's a coincidence), there is the stair case Harry slept under.
The sound stages themselves are pretty cool. First, you go into the dining hall set (after a brief film hosted by Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint) which makes it quite clear how the dining hall at Christ's Church is the model-- and why it's way too small to have actually been used. There are lots of costume displays in the dining hall as well-- they are strategically placed near the place where those in each house would have sat during filming. This is Gryffindor.
The Dining Hall is, by far, the largest set (though Diagon Alley comes close). So, from there, you enter into the larger part of the sound stage where there are multiple sets. Gryffindor Common Room.
The Ministry of Magic.
Umbridge's office.
Dumbledore's office.
And, so many more-- it takes more than three hours to really look at stuff (it can take many more hours depending on how long you want to linger). And, I don't want to spoil it completely for anyone who might go... so, I'm including only a little of what's there. (Well, that, and one can only take so many photos-- I had more than 50. I'm guessing in comparison to many who go there, I was conservative with my photography.)
There also moving displays which demonstrate the magic (and how that magic happened) of Hogwarts and the Weasley's home (and, other places).
Between sound stages J and K, there are a few outdoor sets like Privett Lane's exterior.
But, the best part of this in-between area is the Butterbeer stand.
It's non-alcoholic, but it could easily be addictive. I'm sure it's pure sugar-- that's probably what makes it so yummy. Butterbeer is a glass of liquid butterscotch, basically. The foamy part is especially delicious-- Judy and I were both scraping it out of our cups. (Amazingly, you can't buy butterbeer in the gift shop-- I'm amazed the studios haven't capitalized on people wanting more to take home.)
The second sound stage provides a lot of information and displays about how hair, makeup, and special effects were done, including how creatures like the Hippogriff were made to move.
After the special effects are explained through some very entertaining videos, you turn the corner into Diagon Alley, which was my favorite part.
All the famous storefronts are there. And, the lighting changes as you walk through-- going from night lighting to day lighting (which is why some pictures are lighter-- but the difference is a bit harder to see in the photos than in person).
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was particularly entertaining, for reasons like this.
Then, there is the grand finale display-- a giant scale model of Hogwarts, the one used to film needed exterior shots of the school. The lighting in there also changed from night to day as you walked around it.
It's hard to tell from the pictures, but it's massive. The last room, before the gift shop, is the credits room where the names of every person who had anything to do with any of the eight movies has his or her name on a wand box. There's no discernible order to them, so it's a bit hard to find a particular name, but we did stumble on one of my favorites, Maggie Smith (though, I do like her more for her role on Downton Abbey...).
There is no way to get out without walking through the gift shop-- and the prices are largely exorbitant. Still, bought a mug with the Marauder's Map on it. I justified it by saying 1) I needed a souvenir of this-- the Brits might be annoyed that Harry Potter is now what many foreigners want to talk about when in England, but I'm willing to openly admit and demonstrate that I took a small part in the craze as well-- and 2) I needed a "good mug" (I'm particular about my mugs, especially the handles) for my flat.
We returned to London to have dinner in Piccadilly Circus (though, we hit a pub for a pint first-- so, only one pub, but I think that counts as maintaining the pub crawl). We randomly picked Assaggetti-- and it turned out to be a good pick. Italian tapas. And a lovely looking restaurant.
Walking back to the tube to get back to Victoria so we could catch the coach back to London (the day of complicated transportation kept going until we reached my stop in Oxford), it started raining, so we ducked into the M&M store for a few minutes-- it's a four floor store dedicated to all M&M themed merchandise. I love M&Ms-- they're my favorite "cheap" candy, but this was a it much. It was overwhelming (especially combined with the very loud, pounding club music they were playing-- which is strange because no one is going to mistake the M&M store for a dance club, no matter what they do). It's probably the only place to see M&Ms dressed like British figures.
It was a day bookended by kitsch.
A little less kitschy, but still touristy enough, was today's visit to Oxford Castle. I think it's the last major site in Oxford I hadn't visited yet... and it's easy to get to (so no story of changing transportation-- just the familiar U1 bus).
Outside the Oxford Castle is The Mound, built in 1071 by approximately 200 Anglo-Saxon slaves as a spot for last-resort defense. I took this picture from the top of one of the castle towers to get a better sense of what it looks like (it's hard to photograph up close). But really, it's a mound-- it's remarkable more for how old it is than how it looks.
There is a well situated in the mound-- down a steep set of stairs.
The well is pretty remarkable too-- mostly because it's rather amazing that they were able to do this in 1071--think of the lack of technology!
Oxford Castle itself is pretty interesting-- while for a time, it was a home, mostly over time it's served as a prison. And, it was a prison until 1996-- so, it's only recently that prisoners were moved out and archaeologists could move in and start excavating the site. They're still finding skeletons and other artifacts.
The tour of Oxford Castle begins by walking through a tiny gate made to make you feel like you're entering into prison.
The Castle tour is a story of "murder, romance, betrayal, escape and execution." It's also a story of torture-- devices for which sometimes resembled equipment found in gyms today. I walked on what was effectively a wooden stairmaster-- it had a lot of resistance. Prisoner's were made to walk on it for hours at a time in an attempt to wear them down. There were also machines which made them walk in circles uselessly-- kind of like a tread mill does. I don't know what it says about us that many of us pay (in some cases, quite a bit of money) to exercise on machines which were derived from devices of torture meant to break a person's spirit and will. I willingly go use these "exercise machines" just about everyday when I'm in the states-- which means I'm literally torturing myself. It puts a new spin on exercise.
The tour goes through St. George's Tower,
which requires climbing more than 100 very windy, narrow and small steps to get to the top.
There are the crypts (where skeletons are still in the walls. They haven't been excavated fully yet.).
And, there are the cells prisoners were held in, each of which has informational displays in them, like this one which has one of the only two known remaining 19th century gallows handles as well as a helpful list of all of those who were publicly executed in Oxford. There's a lot about gruesome death on the tour.
Part of Oxford Castle-- where the dungeons used to be-- is now a very posh hotel, Malmaison. We went by just to see what fancy dungeons look like, though we could only see the lobby (apparently though, the dungeon cells have been converted into upscale hotel rooms which include jacuzzies). The lobby is quite cool though-- and after seeing the seating area, we decided to make Malmaison the first stop on the day's pub tour, just so we could sit here.
This is the first place I have gone where ordering a beer got a strange look (we were offered coffee or tea). It was after 1 pm, perfectly acceptable drinking time in England, yet, those in the hotel bar
seemed really thrown by our order, even though the beer taps were right there (with a selection of 2-- as pubs go, it was fancy, but not impressive).
What is most interesting about this section, to me at least, is that it took a really long time to build because Oxford University kept running out of money. Eventually, there was what amounted to a fundraising drive-- the reward for donating money was that your family crest was worked into the decoration on the ceiling.
Judy's first day here also marked the start of what I've decided is our very slow pub crawl-- slow because it seems to have maxed out at two pubs a day. But, we've been good about trying new pubs, ones I haven't been too (though, we did do Turf Tavern the first day because I sort of feel like people should see it-- and, it has really good food). After our Bodleian tour and walk around Christ's Church (which does sit near the Thames), we went to Head of the River, which sits at the top of the Thames walk. I've passed by it a few times (thus, there are pictures of the outside in another blog), but I've never gone in. It looks like an English pub should, right down to the fireplace which is stoked with coal, not wood.
(That's Judy jet-lagged-- though, to be fair, she made it until about 7 pm before she hit the jet-lag wall. It was pretty impressive.) The rest of our week (and as I'm writing, it's not yet over) is more ambitious.
As kitschy and touristy as I know it is, I'm in England-- I had to go to the studios where Harry Potter was filmed. It's not a hard trek from Oxford, but it's not the easiest one either-- which does explain why many people pay 55 pounds to take the Harry Potter tour bus (which is just a bus with Harry Potter themed stuff painted on it that goes to the studios) rather than just the 28 pounds it costs to get in which requires you find your own way. Taking the tour bus requires getting off the bus from Oxford at the Victoria Coach Station and getting onto the Harry Potter bus. If you decide to find your own way, as Judy and I did, you get off at Victoria Train station (basically the same place as the coach station), then take the tube to a different train station, then take a train to Watford Junction and then take another bus from the train station to the studios-- which actually sounds more complicated than it felt at the time, but which is still an exercise in learning how London transports of all kinds work. Finally, however, you will arrive at the Harry Potter Studio Tour--hopefully within 30 minutes of your assigned ticket time. You can't just buy a ticket to the studios when you finally get there-- you have to book for a specific tour time in advance. It all worked out-- we had tickets for 2 pm and got to the studios at 1:50. It was amazingly timed.
It would be easier to get into Fort Knox or the White House than the Harry Potter Studios. We had to pick up our tickets when we got there. To pick up our tickets, I needed the confirmation number I had been sent and then once my booking had been found, I needed a photo ID to prove it was me who had made the booking. Once inside, we had to show our tickets to someone to be allowed to stand in line (queue-- I know) to get into the studio and then we had to have our tickets scanned before we were allowed into the studio proper. There must be A LOT of Harry Potter ticket fraud going on to require so many checks.
While waiting in line, there are a few exhibits like large photos of key actors, generally one from the first movie and one from the last movie to show how they've grown up over time. And, as we inched closer to the doors that would let us into the sound stages (by luck, it's sound stages J and K-- or at least those at the tour say it's a coincidence), there is the stair case Harry slept under.
The sound stages themselves are pretty cool. First, you go into the dining hall set (after a brief film hosted by Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint) which makes it quite clear how the dining hall at Christ's Church is the model-- and why it's way too small to have actually been used. There are lots of costume displays in the dining hall as well-- they are strategically placed near the place where those in each house would have sat during filming. This is Gryffindor.
The Dining Hall is, by far, the largest set (though Diagon Alley comes close). So, from there, you enter into the larger part of the sound stage where there are multiple sets. Gryffindor Common Room.
The Ministry of Magic.
Dumbledore's office.
And, so many more-- it takes more than three hours to really look at stuff (it can take many more hours depending on how long you want to linger). And, I don't want to spoil it completely for anyone who might go... so, I'm including only a little of what's there. (Well, that, and one can only take so many photos-- I had more than 50. I'm guessing in comparison to many who go there, I was conservative with my photography.)
There also moving displays which demonstrate the magic (and how that magic happened) of Hogwarts and the Weasley's home (and, other places).
Between sound stages J and K, there are a few outdoor sets like Privett Lane's exterior.
But, the best part of this in-between area is the Butterbeer stand.
It's non-alcoholic, but it could easily be addictive. I'm sure it's pure sugar-- that's probably what makes it so yummy. Butterbeer is a glass of liquid butterscotch, basically. The foamy part is especially delicious-- Judy and I were both scraping it out of our cups. (Amazingly, you can't buy butterbeer in the gift shop-- I'm amazed the studios haven't capitalized on people wanting more to take home.)
The second sound stage provides a lot of information and displays about how hair, makeup, and special effects were done, including how creatures like the Hippogriff were made to move.
After the special effects are explained through some very entertaining videos, you turn the corner into Diagon Alley, which was my favorite part.
All the famous storefronts are there. And, the lighting changes as you walk through-- going from night lighting to day lighting (which is why some pictures are lighter-- but the difference is a bit harder to see in the photos than in person).
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was particularly entertaining, for reasons like this.
Then, there is the grand finale display-- a giant scale model of Hogwarts, the one used to film needed exterior shots of the school. The lighting in there also changed from night to day as you walked around it.
It's hard to tell from the pictures, but it's massive. The last room, before the gift shop, is the credits room where the names of every person who had anything to do with any of the eight movies has his or her name on a wand box. There's no discernible order to them, so it's a bit hard to find a particular name, but we did stumble on one of my favorites, Maggie Smith (though, I do like her more for her role on Downton Abbey...).
There is no way to get out without walking through the gift shop-- and the prices are largely exorbitant. Still, bought a mug with the Marauder's Map on it. I justified it by saying 1) I needed a souvenir of this-- the Brits might be annoyed that Harry Potter is now what many foreigners want to talk about when in England, but I'm willing to openly admit and demonstrate that I took a small part in the craze as well-- and 2) I needed a "good mug" (I'm particular about my mugs, especially the handles) for my flat.
We returned to London to have dinner in Piccadilly Circus (though, we hit a pub for a pint first-- so, only one pub, but I think that counts as maintaining the pub crawl). We randomly picked Assaggetti-- and it turned out to be a good pick. Italian tapas. And a lovely looking restaurant.
Walking back to the tube to get back to Victoria so we could catch the coach back to London (the day of complicated transportation kept going until we reached my stop in Oxford), it started raining, so we ducked into the M&M store for a few minutes-- it's a four floor store dedicated to all M&M themed merchandise. I love M&Ms-- they're my favorite "cheap" candy, but this was a it much. It was overwhelming (especially combined with the very loud, pounding club music they were playing-- which is strange because no one is going to mistake the M&M store for a dance club, no matter what they do). It's probably the only place to see M&Ms dressed like British figures.
It was a day bookended by kitsch.
A little less kitschy, but still touristy enough, was today's visit to Oxford Castle. I think it's the last major site in Oxford I hadn't visited yet... and it's easy to get to (so no story of changing transportation-- just the familiar U1 bus).
Outside the Oxford Castle is The Mound, built in 1071 by approximately 200 Anglo-Saxon slaves as a spot for last-resort defense. I took this picture from the top of one of the castle towers to get a better sense of what it looks like (it's hard to photograph up close). But really, it's a mound-- it's remarkable more for how old it is than how it looks.
The well is pretty remarkable too-- mostly because it's rather amazing that they were able to do this in 1071--think of the lack of technology!
The tour of Oxford Castle begins by walking through a tiny gate made to make you feel like you're entering into prison.
The Castle tour is a story of "murder, romance, betrayal, escape and execution." It's also a story of torture-- devices for which sometimes resembled equipment found in gyms today. I walked on what was effectively a wooden stairmaster-- it had a lot of resistance. Prisoner's were made to walk on it for hours at a time in an attempt to wear them down. There were also machines which made them walk in circles uselessly-- kind of like a tread mill does. I don't know what it says about us that many of us pay (in some cases, quite a bit of money) to exercise on machines which were derived from devices of torture meant to break a person's spirit and will. I willingly go use these "exercise machines" just about everyday when I'm in the states-- which means I'm literally torturing myself. It puts a new spin on exercise.
The tour goes through St. George's Tower,
which requires climbing more than 100 very windy, narrow and small steps to get to the top.
There are the crypts (where skeletons are still in the walls. They haven't been excavated fully yet.).
And, there are the cells prisoners were held in, each of which has informational displays in them, like this one which has one of the only two known remaining 19th century gallows handles as well as a helpful list of all of those who were publicly executed in Oxford. There's a lot about gruesome death on the tour.
Part of Oxford Castle-- where the dungeons used to be-- is now a very posh hotel, Malmaison. We went by just to see what fancy dungeons look like, though we could only see the lobby (apparently though, the dungeon cells have been converted into upscale hotel rooms which include jacuzzies). The lobby is quite cool though-- and after seeing the seating area, we decided to make Malmaison the first stop on the day's pub tour, just so we could sit here.
This is the first place I have gone where ordering a beer got a strange look (we were offered coffee or tea). It was after 1 pm, perfectly acceptable drinking time in England, yet, those in the hotel bar
seemed really thrown by our order, even though the beer taps were right there (with a selection of 2-- as pubs go, it was fancy, but not impressive).
Our stop for lunch after our Malmaison beer (served in a 2/3 pint glass) was at a pub called The Crown. (I think it's owned by the same people who own the previously written about Chequers.) It was back to my known and loved Oxford pub environment-- where, everyone was having a pint or wine with lunch so our order was taken in stride.
And again, my opinion that pub food is quite different from-- and much better than-- American bar food. Look how nice our lunches looked.
There was what seemed like more traditional "bar food" on the menu as well- like nachos. I really wanted something healthier and more like lunch than nachos, so I didn't order them. But, I have a real urge to order them just once-- I want to see if they come out looking like what I think nachos should look like or if they are fancier/different. Presentation seems important in pub food, so I'm guessing it won't just be a mound of chips with lots of meat and cheese messily poured on top and in between. It's probably worth ordering nachos once just to find out what will arrive at my table.
And again, my opinion that pub food is quite different from-- and much better than-- American bar food. Look how nice our lunches looked.
There was what seemed like more traditional "bar food" on the menu as well- like nachos. I really wanted something healthier and more like lunch than nachos, so I didn't order them. But, I have a real urge to order them just once-- I want to see if they come out looking like what I think nachos should look like or if they are fancier/different. Presentation seems important in pub food, so I'm guessing it won't just be a mound of chips with lots of meat and cheese messily poured on top and in between. It's probably worth ordering nachos once just to find out what will arrive at my table.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Lunch at the Isis Farmhouse
When I did the Thames walk weeks ago, part of what I had been looking forward to was eating at the Isis Farmhouse. However, no guide book mentioned that it's only open Friday through Sunday, so when I went on a Tuesday, I was obviously disappointed (and hungry, but I've written about that already). Despite that disappointment, I've remained rather fascinated by the Isis Farmhouse; it's a family-run pub (and, also the family home. People live in this house as well as run a pub out of it.), located in what feels like the middle of nowhere. It, I believe, has the distinction of being the only pub in England (maybe the UK) that can't be driven to-- you can only get there by walking or by boat (they host weddings there; it must be fun getting large wedding parties and lots of guests there). And yet, it supposedly can be quite crowded which begs the question of where all the people come from (which is a large part of my fascination with it). I've been wanting to know-- and I've mentioned this a couple times in the class I'm teaching. So, Friday, we took a class field trip to walk the River Thames (which apparently none of my students had done before) and have lunch at Isis Farmhouse.
It's really charming and the setting is gorgeous since it's right on the river. As you can see from the sky, we lucked out and got a really lovely day for the walk (which was especially nice after a few days of really dreary weather, including pouring rain for most of the day before. As I write this, there is a pretty major hail storm happening, so I'm even more glad I got out in the sun yesterday. This is the first time I've seen hail here-- I'm not particularly inclined to go out in it.). And, the Isis Farmhouse was open when we got there which was exciting-- I was a little worried that I was going to have taken my class out there only to find it closed again.
The inside is charming as well.
Everything is written on chalkboards-- including the menu and upcoming events (these upcoming events are about Guy Fawkes which is November 3).
Isis Farmhouse is not like most other pubs-- it runs on really limited hours (it opened at 9 am for drinks, but lunch is only served from 12:30-2:30 and they do mean 12:30. We arrived a little after noon and, even though they knew what the menu would be, we had to wait until 12:30 to order. Which was fine-- we sat outside with drinks for a little while. Dinner has a pretty small window too even though the pub is open pretty late.) and days (Friday-Sunday, as I've mentioned) and, unlike other pubs which have pretty extensive food menus, there is a very limited choice. But, this is part of what makes the Isis Farmhouse unique-- and worth walking to (besides the walk itself, which is lovely). And, the woman who was taking care of us was really nice. It's not a place to go to if you're in a rush-- but I don't think anyone who is in a rush would go there since it's something of a process to get to in the first place. I am really glad I bothered to go back-- and took the students in my class with me. Isis Farmhouse is the kind of place that only exists in a few places-- it's not the kind of experience that can be approximated in another pub in town. I don't really think there are many places like it at all. (How many could there be-- I would think it's hard to run a business when customers can't get there by car. Or even by bus. Boat and foot seems limiting.)
For lunch, we had a choice between a ploughman's lunch or broccoli and spinach soup. There is, however, a much larger selection of drinks-- they have really nice selection of beer on draft and in bottles (I have yet to get a bottled beer in the UK. In fact, I'm not sure who buys bottled beer in a pub. I haven't really noticed anyone drinking beer from a bottle.). And, for the first time, the beer tasted like it looked (think nut brown)- which threw me a little-- I was expecting the disconnect I usually have so it was slightly confusing to order a dark lager and not be thrown by the taste. It went well with the ploughman's lunch.
The reddish condiment in the back is some kind of cranberry sauce-- it was really good. I could have had a lot more of it.
I do find it interesting that in the UK coleslaw (which the Brits tend to load up with mayonnaise, much more than I think is typical in the US-- or at least any restaurant in Oxford does. I don't think I've been served coleslaw anywhere else but Oxford It's not that coleslaw is an Oxford thing... it's just that I've eaten a lot more basic meals like a sandwich in Oxford.) is considered salad, which I guess is technically correct, but the term "salad" is so widely used here that I've started noticing how often things are referred to generically as salad. Lots of stuff is considered salad--for example, salad also refers to any veggies we would add to a sandwich (so, when ordering a hamburger, for example, you would be asked what salad you would like on it-- and this means do you want lettuce, tomato, onion, etc. Also, if you ask for pickles, which are also under the umbrella term salad, you will not get a pickle. You will get pickled veggies-- they're quite tasty, but not what an American is expecting.). Pretty much any cold vegetable side is a salad as well. Lots of surprising things are considered salad; and, it's hard to find what American's would really think of as salad. (I have to remember to take a picture of the salad bar at the grocery store-- there's no lettuce on it. It doesn't at all look like what we would consider a salad bar to be.) A salad that we would normally order on a menu as a meal, chock full of veggies and meats, is nearly impossible to find on a menu. It's not that there aren't lots of vegetables-- salad just isn't the way they are presented here for the most part. (There is actually a small salad on the plate in the photo-- it had mixed greens, tomato, red pepper and a couple radishes. No dressing. But, it's probably the closest thing I've seen to a traditional side salad. Many times, a side salad is just lettuce [iceberg], sometimes with a few shredded carrots.)
There was a large group at the Isis Farmhouse-- I wish we had been paying attention when they arrived, but no one in our group noticed them until they were all standing in front of the farmhouse taking pictures so I have no idea where exactly they came from or how they arrived. I'm assuming they arrived by foot though because I think we would have noticed a large boat pulling up to drop them off. Other than us and this large group (I think they were Italian), there were only a few other people there, but it was the middle of the day on a Friday. I've heard that the Isis Farmhouse can be quite crowded, but I'm guessing that Friday lunch, since it's not located near any businesses (or, anything at all, really), isn't really the big draw. It might be worth trekking out there on a Saturday afternoon to find out if it's busier; I would go in the evening, but it doesn't seem like the river path has any lights, so I'm not sure how one gets back in the dark-- flashlight, I guess.
It's really charming and the setting is gorgeous since it's right on the river. As you can see from the sky, we lucked out and got a really lovely day for the walk (which was especially nice after a few days of really dreary weather, including pouring rain for most of the day before. As I write this, there is a pretty major hail storm happening, so I'm even more glad I got out in the sun yesterday. This is the first time I've seen hail here-- I'm not particularly inclined to go out in it.). And, the Isis Farmhouse was open when we got there which was exciting-- I was a little worried that I was going to have taken my class out there only to find it closed again.
The inside is charming as well.
Isis Farmhouse is not like most other pubs-- it runs on really limited hours (it opened at 9 am for drinks, but lunch is only served from 12:30-2:30 and they do mean 12:30. We arrived a little after noon and, even though they knew what the menu would be, we had to wait until 12:30 to order. Which was fine-- we sat outside with drinks for a little while. Dinner has a pretty small window too even though the pub is open pretty late.) and days (Friday-Sunday, as I've mentioned) and, unlike other pubs which have pretty extensive food menus, there is a very limited choice. But, this is part of what makes the Isis Farmhouse unique-- and worth walking to (besides the walk itself, which is lovely). And, the woman who was taking care of us was really nice. It's not a place to go to if you're in a rush-- but I don't think anyone who is in a rush would go there since it's something of a process to get to in the first place. I am really glad I bothered to go back-- and took the students in my class with me. Isis Farmhouse is the kind of place that only exists in a few places-- it's not the kind of experience that can be approximated in another pub in town. I don't really think there are many places like it at all. (How many could there be-- I would think it's hard to run a business when customers can't get there by car. Or even by bus. Boat and foot seems limiting.)
For lunch, we had a choice between a ploughman's lunch or broccoli and spinach soup. There is, however, a much larger selection of drinks-- they have really nice selection of beer on draft and in bottles (I have yet to get a bottled beer in the UK. In fact, I'm not sure who buys bottled beer in a pub. I haven't really noticed anyone drinking beer from a bottle.). And, for the first time, the beer tasted like it looked (think nut brown)- which threw me a little-- I was expecting the disconnect I usually have so it was slightly confusing to order a dark lager and not be thrown by the taste. It went well with the ploughman's lunch.
The reddish condiment in the back is some kind of cranberry sauce-- it was really good. I could have had a lot more of it.
I do find it interesting that in the UK coleslaw (which the Brits tend to load up with mayonnaise, much more than I think is typical in the US-- or at least any restaurant in Oxford does. I don't think I've been served coleslaw anywhere else but Oxford It's not that coleslaw is an Oxford thing... it's just that I've eaten a lot more basic meals like a sandwich in Oxford.) is considered salad, which I guess is technically correct, but the term "salad" is so widely used here that I've started noticing how often things are referred to generically as salad. Lots of stuff is considered salad--for example, salad also refers to any veggies we would add to a sandwich (so, when ordering a hamburger, for example, you would be asked what salad you would like on it-- and this means do you want lettuce, tomato, onion, etc. Also, if you ask for pickles, which are also under the umbrella term salad, you will not get a pickle. You will get pickled veggies-- they're quite tasty, but not what an American is expecting.). Pretty much any cold vegetable side is a salad as well. Lots of surprising things are considered salad; and, it's hard to find what American's would really think of as salad. (I have to remember to take a picture of the salad bar at the grocery store-- there's no lettuce on it. It doesn't at all look like what we would consider a salad bar to be.) A salad that we would normally order on a menu as a meal, chock full of veggies and meats, is nearly impossible to find on a menu. It's not that there aren't lots of vegetables-- salad just isn't the way they are presented here for the most part. (There is actually a small salad on the plate in the photo-- it had mixed greens, tomato, red pepper and a couple radishes. No dressing. But, it's probably the closest thing I've seen to a traditional side salad. Many times, a side salad is just lettuce [iceberg], sometimes with a few shredded carrots.)
There was a large group at the Isis Farmhouse-- I wish we had been paying attention when they arrived, but no one in our group noticed them until they were all standing in front of the farmhouse taking pictures so I have no idea where exactly they came from or how they arrived. I'm assuming they arrived by foot though because I think we would have noticed a large boat pulling up to drop them off. Other than us and this large group (I think they were Italian), there were only a few other people there, but it was the middle of the day on a Friday. I've heard that the Isis Farmhouse can be quite crowded, but I'm guessing that Friday lunch, since it's not located near any businesses (or, anything at all, really), isn't really the big draw. It might be worth trekking out there on a Saturday afternoon to find out if it's busier; I would go in the evening, but it doesn't seem like the river path has any lights, so I'm not sure how one gets back in the dark-- flashlight, I guess.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Real Tennis
No-- I haven't found a way to play tennis yet. I did, however, get to see the game which is the origin of the tennis we play today (and racquetball as well, I'm guessing). It was sort of an accident, really. It wasn't part of the day I had planned.
The day I had planned was to find the Gloucester Green Open Market, which only happens on Wednesday. That was relatively easy to find. It's a farmer's market, but then it has all sorts of other stuff as well. You can see the "other stuff" in the picture below, sort of. I think it gives a good sense of the amount of junk on offer at the market.
There is good stuff offered at the market as well-- the produce looked really wonderful and seemed really reasonably priced, much cheaper than grocery stores. And, there were food trucks set up to the side (I had a really great felafel wrap). And, there was the general entertainment of listening to all of market vendors-- especially those selling produce or meat. I recorded some of it-- you can hear it in the background (I think). When I recorded this, I was actually trying to get the onslaught of pigeons which came out of nowhere and started circling above-- though I missed the original, very scary moment of hundreds of pigeons rising into the air en masse and circling, so it was much more frightening in real life. That is, however, why this video is focused on the sky for a while.
I haven't really explored the Gloucester Green area in general, so I started wandering behind the market. I found the Old Fire Station (which I've read about in guide books-- and I'm now really glad I didn't set off in search of this or it would have been really disappointing). The Old Fire Station is now an art gallery-- though there was more on display in the gift shop than in the gallery itself. That said, all the stuff in the gift shop is made by local artisans, so I guess it's kind of a gallery of its own... maybe that's the justification for the very small actual exhibition? Or, maybe it's between exhibitions. There wasn't really anyone around to ask. Behind Gloucester Green, there's a cute road-- I like how in Oxford there are lots of roads that don't really look like they should be. This is Bulwarks Lane.
I walked up it-- it dead ends into a major road not far up, near Oxford Castle and the train station. This actually gave me a really good sense of how close together all these things I'd been taking a bus to are-- I go a different, somewhat circuitous route when I'm on the bus (not that it's a walkable distance from my flat to the train station-- I just didn't realize how easy it was to get to the train station from City Centre), so I hadn't quite gotten a sense of how compact the city is. Wandering aimlessly and winding up at the train station in about 5 minutes makes it clear though.
Near Oxford Castle is also the County Council Office, which itself looks like a small castle.
(It's hard to get a nice picture of it because there's a bus stop and a parking lot in front of it. But, I think it's fascinating how Oxford, and the UK in general, turn what, to me, look like incredibly gorgeous important buildings and turn them into mundane things, like the home of County Council.) And, also near Oxford Castle is a Krispy Kreme-- complete with a hot doughnuts sign.
I had seen on Urban Spoon that there was a Krispy Kreme in Oxford-- and there it is. It continues to perpetuate my belief that we really have exported some of the worst of America to the UK and Europe (not that doughnuts aren't yummy-- but that we've largely exported fast food chains and Starbucks sort of says that we're trying to make everyone obese.).
In my wandering, I also came across the Oxford Union, which is a debate club (this is really all I've learned about it), but, more important, a lovely building and courtyard (if you ignore the ugly poster sale sign)
and the Wesley Memorial Methodist Church.
The church is more interesting to me because I had yet to see a Methodist church and, since I work at a Methodist university in the US and my students are here because there was a relationship forged between HPU and Brookes a while ago which was based on a Methodist connection/tradition at both, I was sort of wondering where the Methodists were. Now I know. And, of course, it has the requisite gorgeous stained glass inside.
Wandering down the street with the Methodist Church brought me back around to High Street-- the road that runs through City Centre. I've come to the conclusion that it's really hard to get lost in Oxford, at least in the center. Eventually, you'll get back to a main road, probably High Street.
So, I had planned to head back to my flat, do some work for a while and then head to the Cultural Heritage class my students are taking-- somehow though, instead of doing that, I first popped into the Covered Market and decided to try Bolitas for the first time. Bolitas are cheeseballs (really, puffs) filled with either savory or sweet fillings. There were very few left when I got there-- the guy who worked there was in the process of making more-- and so, for reasons I'm still not clear about except perhaps that I asked questions about the Bolitas and seemed really interested in them, I was given a chocolate bolita for free. You wouldn't necessarily think that a cheese puff filled with chocolate (well, not filled-- but it has chocolate inside) would be good, but it is. Surprisingly good. (You can read more about bolitas here: http://www.bolitas.co.uk/). There's nothing British about them-- they're actually Brazilian. But, I've never seen them before and the stand is a permanent fixture in the corner of the Covered Market, so now it's an Oxford thing in my head. Anyway, once given a free bolita and told that, if I liked it, I could come back in about 10 minutes for fresh ones, I sort of felt obliged to buy something; I wound up buying a bag of frozen bolitas to make at home (I was going to buy the fresh ones, but I can see how they really need to be eaten immediately to be good. So, now I can make them fresh for myself whenever I want them.).
I also went past Patisserie Valerie, where all the really fabulous look pastries sit in the window-- and I was really good and didn't stop. Though, I still need to have tea and scones here-- expectations are high based on the window display.
And then, on a lark, I turned down Merton Street (rather than heading to the bus stop) to see if this time the Real Tennis Courts would be open-- and they were! (I've stopped by several times. They were never open and I was beginning to think it was a fake storefront.) Everything I've read suggested I was going to have to pay a nominal fee to see the courts-- but when I asked, the pros there who run the shop just let me back into the club to watch a match that was going on.
The courts look something like a small tennis court (the pictures had to be taken through the netting blocking the gallery I was watching from-- called the dedans. This is really necessary netting-- the ledge in front of it is fair game for hitting the ball. Without the netting, people watching would get nailed with the ball a lot.)
I've been really interested in seeing Real Tennis since it is the game that the modern tennis was derived from (though in a lot of ways this looked more like racquetball with something akin to tennis scoring to me). So, I sat and watched this incredibly confusing game-- and recorded parts of it.
That's Maggie and her son Jamie playing-- they quite generously let me record them (or, at least didn't yell at me to stop recording them) and, when they were done playing, spent a while talking to me about the game. (Maggie is something of an ambassador for the sport-- she's actually going to Chicago in about a week and a half to play on a court there. And, playing on in Washington state as well. Apparently, no two Real Tennis courts are the same-- there are some standard parts to them, but there is also room for variation, so I guess the court itself poses some of the challenge. She's incredibly knowledgeable and enthusiastic-- and was so gracious talking to me.)
Some of this game was explained to me after, but all in all, I found the whole thing confusing-- mostly because I was thinking it would be like tennis. And, I guess it sort of is in that there are people on either side of the net and sets are played to 6 (though, a player can win 6-5... there are no tie-breaks or need to win by two games) and sometimes the scoring is called out using 15-30-40 (though, it's hard to understand who is winning because they call the score of the person who won the last point first-- so you really have to pay attention to know who is up in a game). But, that's about where the similarity ends, as you can see from the video. Scoring is interrupted by something called chases which occur if the ball bounces twice on a side-- then another point has to be played so that the the player who landed the chase has to earn the point. And this is done by placing the ball in better position than it was when the ball bounced twice. I think. Anyway, it's why these lines on the side walls are important.
To win a chase, a player has to hit a winning shot closer to the wall than the original ball that started the chase. Also, players have to earn the right to serve (I never understood how this happened-- but Maggie and Jamie changed sides a lot at 40-30, so clearly something earns a player the right to serve.) and can stay in place as server for quite a while. And, of course the walls are used as part of the playing area. In fact, there are spaces on the walls that, if hit, constitute winning the point outright, even if the opposing player can get to the ball. You can, I think , see one of them in the video. There's a crest in the back, right hand corner on the receivers end-- that's the Grille. Hitting it wins the point-- and it only exists on the receiver's (or hazard) side, which gives the server a distinct advantage. I think there's a lot more complicated stuff about the game-- to be honest, I'm not positive I got what I've written here correct. (I also learned that there is only one company in the world allowed to make the racquets for the game- a company called Greys. The racquet itself of asymmetrical-- so that the flatter side could slide along the ground since the ball doesn't bounce very high-- and very heavy.) The Oxford University Tennis Club explains all of this better on its site (http://www.outc.org.uk/.)
What's most exciting to me about this (beside finally finding the courts open and being allowed to watch people play for as long as I wanted-- which was about an hour because then I really did have to go leave for class), at least for me, is that it's possible to play here without being a member of the club or a student at Merton College. It's open to the public and it's possible to book a lesson with a pro to learn how to play. So, barring it being prohibitively expensive to do this, I am going to try to get a lesson or two. I figure if I can't play tennis here, I may as well play real tennis.
The day I had planned was to find the Gloucester Green Open Market, which only happens on Wednesday. That was relatively easy to find. It's a farmer's market, but then it has all sorts of other stuff as well. You can see the "other stuff" in the picture below, sort of. I think it gives a good sense of the amount of junk on offer at the market.
There is good stuff offered at the market as well-- the produce looked really wonderful and seemed really reasonably priced, much cheaper than grocery stores. And, there were food trucks set up to the side (I had a really great felafel wrap). And, there was the general entertainment of listening to all of market vendors-- especially those selling produce or meat. I recorded some of it-- you can hear it in the background (I think). When I recorded this, I was actually trying to get the onslaught of pigeons which came out of nowhere and started circling above-- though I missed the original, very scary moment of hundreds of pigeons rising into the air en masse and circling, so it was much more frightening in real life. That is, however, why this video is focused on the sky for a while.
I haven't really explored the Gloucester Green area in general, so I started wandering behind the market. I found the Old Fire Station (which I've read about in guide books-- and I'm now really glad I didn't set off in search of this or it would have been really disappointing). The Old Fire Station is now an art gallery-- though there was more on display in the gift shop than in the gallery itself. That said, all the stuff in the gift shop is made by local artisans, so I guess it's kind of a gallery of its own... maybe that's the justification for the very small actual exhibition? Or, maybe it's between exhibitions. There wasn't really anyone around to ask. Behind Gloucester Green, there's a cute road-- I like how in Oxford there are lots of roads that don't really look like they should be. This is Bulwarks Lane.
I walked up it-- it dead ends into a major road not far up, near Oxford Castle and the train station. This actually gave me a really good sense of how close together all these things I'd been taking a bus to are-- I go a different, somewhat circuitous route when I'm on the bus (not that it's a walkable distance from my flat to the train station-- I just didn't realize how easy it was to get to the train station from City Centre), so I hadn't quite gotten a sense of how compact the city is. Wandering aimlessly and winding up at the train station in about 5 minutes makes it clear though.
Near Oxford Castle is also the County Council Office, which itself looks like a small castle.
(It's hard to get a nice picture of it because there's a bus stop and a parking lot in front of it. But, I think it's fascinating how Oxford, and the UK in general, turn what, to me, look like incredibly gorgeous important buildings and turn them into mundane things, like the home of County Council.) And, also near Oxford Castle is a Krispy Kreme-- complete with a hot doughnuts sign.
I had seen on Urban Spoon that there was a Krispy Kreme in Oxford-- and there it is. It continues to perpetuate my belief that we really have exported some of the worst of America to the UK and Europe (not that doughnuts aren't yummy-- but that we've largely exported fast food chains and Starbucks sort of says that we're trying to make everyone obese.).
In my wandering, I also came across the Oxford Union, which is a debate club (this is really all I've learned about it), but, more important, a lovely building and courtyard (if you ignore the ugly poster sale sign)
and the Wesley Memorial Methodist Church.
The church is more interesting to me because I had yet to see a Methodist church and, since I work at a Methodist university in the US and my students are here because there was a relationship forged between HPU and Brookes a while ago which was based on a Methodist connection/tradition at both, I was sort of wondering where the Methodists were. Now I know. And, of course, it has the requisite gorgeous stained glass inside.
Wandering down the street with the Methodist Church brought me back around to High Street-- the road that runs through City Centre. I've come to the conclusion that it's really hard to get lost in Oxford, at least in the center. Eventually, you'll get back to a main road, probably High Street.
So, I had planned to head back to my flat, do some work for a while and then head to the Cultural Heritage class my students are taking-- somehow though, instead of doing that, I first popped into the Covered Market and decided to try Bolitas for the first time. Bolitas are cheeseballs (really, puffs) filled with either savory or sweet fillings. There were very few left when I got there-- the guy who worked there was in the process of making more-- and so, for reasons I'm still not clear about except perhaps that I asked questions about the Bolitas and seemed really interested in them, I was given a chocolate bolita for free. You wouldn't necessarily think that a cheese puff filled with chocolate (well, not filled-- but it has chocolate inside) would be good, but it is. Surprisingly good. (You can read more about bolitas here: http://www.bolitas.co.uk/). There's nothing British about them-- they're actually Brazilian. But, I've never seen them before and the stand is a permanent fixture in the corner of the Covered Market, so now it's an Oxford thing in my head. Anyway, once given a free bolita and told that, if I liked it, I could come back in about 10 minutes for fresh ones, I sort of felt obliged to buy something; I wound up buying a bag of frozen bolitas to make at home (I was going to buy the fresh ones, but I can see how they really need to be eaten immediately to be good. So, now I can make them fresh for myself whenever I want them.).
I also went past Patisserie Valerie, where all the really fabulous look pastries sit in the window-- and I was really good and didn't stop. Though, I still need to have tea and scones here-- expectations are high based on the window display.
And then, on a lark, I turned down Merton Street (rather than heading to the bus stop) to see if this time the Real Tennis Courts would be open-- and they were! (I've stopped by several times. They were never open and I was beginning to think it was a fake storefront.) Everything I've read suggested I was going to have to pay a nominal fee to see the courts-- but when I asked, the pros there who run the shop just let me back into the club to watch a match that was going on.
The courts look something like a small tennis court (the pictures had to be taken through the netting blocking the gallery I was watching from-- called the dedans. This is really necessary netting-- the ledge in front of it is fair game for hitting the ball. Without the netting, people watching would get nailed with the ball a lot.)
I've been really interested in seeing Real Tennis since it is the game that the modern tennis was derived from (though in a lot of ways this looked more like racquetball with something akin to tennis scoring to me). So, I sat and watched this incredibly confusing game-- and recorded parts of it.
That's Maggie and her son Jamie playing-- they quite generously let me record them (or, at least didn't yell at me to stop recording them) and, when they were done playing, spent a while talking to me about the game. (Maggie is something of an ambassador for the sport-- she's actually going to Chicago in about a week and a half to play on a court there. And, playing on in Washington state as well. Apparently, no two Real Tennis courts are the same-- there are some standard parts to them, but there is also room for variation, so I guess the court itself poses some of the challenge. She's incredibly knowledgeable and enthusiastic-- and was so gracious talking to me.)
Some of this game was explained to me after, but all in all, I found the whole thing confusing-- mostly because I was thinking it would be like tennis. And, I guess it sort of is in that there are people on either side of the net and sets are played to 6 (though, a player can win 6-5... there are no tie-breaks or need to win by two games) and sometimes the scoring is called out using 15-30-40 (though, it's hard to understand who is winning because they call the score of the person who won the last point first-- so you really have to pay attention to know who is up in a game). But, that's about where the similarity ends, as you can see from the video. Scoring is interrupted by something called chases which occur if the ball bounces twice on a side-- then another point has to be played so that the the player who landed the chase has to earn the point. And this is done by placing the ball in better position than it was when the ball bounced twice. I think. Anyway, it's why these lines on the side walls are important.
To win a chase, a player has to hit a winning shot closer to the wall than the original ball that started the chase. Also, players have to earn the right to serve (I never understood how this happened-- but Maggie and Jamie changed sides a lot at 40-30, so clearly something earns a player the right to serve.) and can stay in place as server for quite a while. And, of course the walls are used as part of the playing area. In fact, there are spaces on the walls that, if hit, constitute winning the point outright, even if the opposing player can get to the ball. You can, I think , see one of them in the video. There's a crest in the back, right hand corner on the receivers end-- that's the Grille. Hitting it wins the point-- and it only exists on the receiver's (or hazard) side, which gives the server a distinct advantage. I think there's a lot more complicated stuff about the game-- to be honest, I'm not positive I got what I've written here correct. (I also learned that there is only one company in the world allowed to make the racquets for the game- a company called Greys. The racquet itself of asymmetrical-- so that the flatter side could slide along the ground since the ball doesn't bounce very high-- and very heavy.) The Oxford University Tennis Club explains all of this better on its site (http://www.outc.org.uk/.)
What's most exciting to me about this (beside finally finding the courts open and being allowed to watch people play for as long as I wanted-- which was about an hour because then I really did have to go leave for class), at least for me, is that it's possible to play here without being a member of the club or a student at Merton College. It's open to the public and it's possible to book a lesson with a pro to learn how to play. So, barring it being prohibitively expensive to do this, I am going to try to get a lesson or two. I figure if I can't play tennis here, I may as well play real tennis.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Food. And Other Stuff.
Surely tea and scones count as lunch. I think I've turned them into that on numerous occasions-- I did yesterday. Some of that is because, while back home I have a pretty regular schedule into which I've planned lunch, traveling makes for an irregular schedule and so I find myself eating at strange times, when I have a break, not when I would have planned a meal. Yesterday, for example, I was in my flat for a lot of the day prepping my class for today and catching up on my students' blogs, so it was about 2:30 before I even thought about heading out to do anything. As I sat on the bus into City Centre (I keep varying between spelling that word in the American and British way-- I can't decide which to use, so it's inconsistent throughout these posts. Do I spell it the way it appears on maps or do I spell it like I normally would, the way spell check seems to appreciate?), I kept going back and forth between whether or not I should stop for lunch or for afternoon tea. Really, the debate became about whether I wanted to go to a pub at 3:30 in the afternoon or for dinner (there is a pub in central Oxford I have been meaning to try and I had decided that no matter what, I was going). Eventually, I decided that having a large lunch really late would mean that I would be hungry for dinner at some absurdly late hour, and besides, if I had lunch at 3:30 I would miss the chance to have tea and scones (and who would want to miss that?), so tea and scones became lunch. I've decided that the strawberry jam counts as a fruit for the day. (It also occurred to me that it's always strawberry jam. I've never been served any other flavor. I'm wondering if that's because strawberry is the most universally liked and so restaurants default to it or if there's some kind of scone tradition that mandates strawberry jam. There is a large variety of jam in the grocery stores, so it's not that there are other flavors unavailable.) I went back to a place my mom, sister and I had already gone (not Vaults and Gardens-- though I kind of lamented not going there after I was served my barely warm scones) because I knew it would be somewhat quiet and I still had reading to do in order to prepare for class. (I could have easily stayed home all day and done work. But Sunday, I hadn't left my flat all day because I was cleaning and doing laundry and sometime during the day yesterday it started to seem like a waste to spend two days at home, especially when what I was doing in my flat-- reading-- could just as easily be done elsewhere.) Plus, tea and scones make it all seem less like work. It can't be just tea though (which I have in my flat-- I bought tea on my first grocery excursion thinking I was in England, so I should join in and have it as a staple. It's entirely possible I'll still have some of it left when I leave. I don't drink tea in my flat all that often. Maybe because I don't have scones or clotted cream. It should also be noted that I bought a fruit flavored tea-- the kind I prefer but far from traditional. So, I may only be vaguely participating in the tradition, if at all. I may just be "playing" at it.). It's really the scones-- and the clotted cream-- that make it a party.
I have started wondering how often the Brits themselves really have tea and scones. Tea I think is pretty regular, but I'm now wondering if the scone part is a treat they allow themselves occasionally (as opposed to the several times a week I have them-- they've become their own food group in my mind, part of the essential pyramid.). Or, if it's just me fascinated with scones in particular... there are many shops with really fabulous looking pastries in the windows. All sorts of cakes and tarts which in mind are somehow more fattening than a scone slathered with clotted cream (I don't know why I think this...maybe because many of the pastries include chocolate which in my head is a treat to only be had occasionally. Or maybe because they look much richer and heavier than a scone.). But, I think that the Brits might be having those with tea. They do look like they're pretty good-- I may have to branch out a bit.
I also decided to spend some time in the local, bookstore, Blackwells, which might also be the largest bookstore I've ever been in. All of my students are talking about traveling to other countries, so I wanted to get a jump on planning my excursion out of England-- I'm thinking Belgium (though I said this and one of the Brookes' staff asked, "Why Belgium? I thought that was just a place you pass through on your way to conquer someone else." which makes me think it's not a popular destination. I've seen pictures though-- it looks really lovely. And, I've been to France, Italy and Greece. Belgium is someplace I haven't been and relatively easy to get to by train. I may also be going to Spain in December to meet up with a friend which is what has kept that in the periphery for now.). I wanted to look through travel guides-- I was thinking I was going to pick the one I liked the most and buy it, but they all start at about 15 pounds which, when I convert it to dollars, seems like a lot for a travel guide. Looking through them did give me a lot of ideas and a general sense of what I'd want to do, so I may be able to look up everything online now.
Spending time perusing travel guides also gave me time to sit in the Norrington Room of Blackwells. It's 3 miles of shelving. The picture was taken from the law balcony-- there's a sign there that marks it as the photo spot. So, clearly, I'm not the only one who finds this overwhelming (and, photo worthy).
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And, that's just one part of Blackwells-- what is considered the basement. There are four other floors of books (including a used book section on the top floor, though the used books aren't significantly cheaper than the new ones. They are in much better shape than most books I've seen in used book stores though-- many look brand new. So, perhaps Blackwells is picky about its used stock and that accounts for why they're only a pound or two cheaper than new books. Charity shops have lots of used books too-- not quite in the same condition, but they often cost a pound or less. I would get used books there-- at least used books of the mundane kind. I think Blackwells does specialize more in used books that are important or special editions.). You could spend a whole day in Blackwells-- and probably still not really see all it has to offer.
It was still kind of early for dinner (6-ish) but it was also cold and rainy all day and most everything except the pubs and restaurants in central Oxford closes by 5 (Blackwells is open late by comparison), so I headed over to Chequers. It's another pub (I think it may also be an actual inn) located at the end of an alleyway (though not nearly as hard to find as Turf Tavern, especially because there's an actual sign jutting out over the sidewalk to announce its presence. You have to turn into the alleyway of Turf Tavern to see the sign.) which has become my favorite kind of pub, mostly because it makes me feel like I've found some hidden treasure.
Chequers inside looks like what I think a British pub should look like.
But, it's food isn't really what I thought pub food was before I got here. And, I've been to a handful of different pubs now (Turf Tavern several times-- for atmosphere and pure kitch, it's still my favorite). It makes me think that British food has gotten a bad rap.
What I've realized about pubs (and, what I was thinking about last night that actually inspired me to start writing this post) is that they don't have what Americans think of as "pub food" at all. I always think pub food and bar food are pretty synonymous-- and there is some bar food fare to be had at pubs (Chequers has nachos-- I may have to go back and order them though. I wonder if they are the same messy, artery clogging, vaguely gross while still being yummy concoction they are in bars in the US). But there is also really well done food.
This is pub food-- chicken and mushroom pie with potatoes and carrots and butternut squash. (Behind it is my pimm's. Along with scones with clotted cream, I really think Americans need to embrace this. Pimm's is really yummy-- I can't quite figure out what the liquor is. It tastes something like Dr. Pepper. And then, it's mixed with seltzer or lemon-lime soda and has some kind of citrus fruit in it; this time, it also had mint leaves, though this is the first time I've had mint in it. All in all, it's very refreshing. It would be dangerously easy to suck down quickly on a warm day.) Food is presented quite well in pubs-- presentation seems key. And, the menus are pretty varied (though there are standards like fish and chips on every pub menu, at least in the ones I've been in). I know I said at some point before I came over here that I don't really like British food (I think I was thinking of Shepard's Pie)-- I may have changed my mind.
I also am not quite sure what British food actually is anymore-- I get that it's bangers and mash and fish and chips, but standard fare in pubs also almost always includes some kind of curry (I don't remember curry on Turf Tavern's menu-- but it seems to on all the other pub menus I've looked at. That's actually what I tried to order first last night-- I wanted the curry but Chequers was out. The menu is changing next week, I was told, so when the kitchen runs out of ingredients for a dish, at the moment it's no longer available. Like the curry I wanted-- a green curry which is a different option than the red curry I had at the White Horse a couple weeks ago. It makes me wonder if different pubs specialize in particular curries.). I know we think of the US as a melting pot-- and it is, but I don't think there's enough attention paid to how much cultural and ethnic diversity there is in England. There is certainly more diversity here than where I live in North Carolina. And, that diversity has made its way into the food-- so much so, that it's not really labeled on menus. For the most part, food isn't denoted as "Thai style" or "Asian style" on the menus (I mean in pubs. In restaurants that specialize in a cuisine-- like a restaurant near me that has both Thai and Chinese food-- these distinctions are quite clear.). The curry I tried to order last night sounded more to me like a Thai curry than an Indian one (the one in White Horse was an Indian curry)-- but in either case, it seems that curry, which isn't British (though, I get, from what used to be a British colony) is now just a part of British food. Which means that British food is more than fish and chips and Shepard's pie-- and has me totally rethinking my uninformed proclamation that I don't really like British food. I'm converted.
I have started wondering how often the Brits themselves really have tea and scones. Tea I think is pretty regular, but I'm now wondering if the scone part is a treat they allow themselves occasionally (as opposed to the several times a week I have them-- they've become their own food group in my mind, part of the essential pyramid.). Or, if it's just me fascinated with scones in particular... there are many shops with really fabulous looking pastries in the windows. All sorts of cakes and tarts which in mind are somehow more fattening than a scone slathered with clotted cream (I don't know why I think this...maybe because many of the pastries include chocolate which in my head is a treat to only be had occasionally. Or maybe because they look much richer and heavier than a scone.). But, I think that the Brits might be having those with tea. They do look like they're pretty good-- I may have to branch out a bit.
I also decided to spend some time in the local, bookstore, Blackwells, which might also be the largest bookstore I've ever been in. All of my students are talking about traveling to other countries, so I wanted to get a jump on planning my excursion out of England-- I'm thinking Belgium (though I said this and one of the Brookes' staff asked, "Why Belgium? I thought that was just a place you pass through on your way to conquer someone else." which makes me think it's not a popular destination. I've seen pictures though-- it looks really lovely. And, I've been to France, Italy and Greece. Belgium is someplace I haven't been and relatively easy to get to by train. I may also be going to Spain in December to meet up with a friend which is what has kept that in the periphery for now.). I wanted to look through travel guides-- I was thinking I was going to pick the one I liked the most and buy it, but they all start at about 15 pounds which, when I convert it to dollars, seems like a lot for a travel guide. Looking through them did give me a lot of ideas and a general sense of what I'd want to do, so I may be able to look up everything online now.
Spending time perusing travel guides also gave me time to sit in the Norrington Room of Blackwells. It's 3 miles of shelving. The picture was taken from the law balcony-- there's a sign there that marks it as the photo spot. So, clearly, I'm not the only one who finds this overwhelming (and, photo worthy).
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And, that's just one part of Blackwells-- what is considered the basement. There are four other floors of books (including a used book section on the top floor, though the used books aren't significantly cheaper than the new ones. They are in much better shape than most books I've seen in used book stores though-- many look brand new. So, perhaps Blackwells is picky about its used stock and that accounts for why they're only a pound or two cheaper than new books. Charity shops have lots of used books too-- not quite in the same condition, but they often cost a pound or less. I would get used books there-- at least used books of the mundane kind. I think Blackwells does specialize more in used books that are important or special editions.). You could spend a whole day in Blackwells-- and probably still not really see all it has to offer.
It was still kind of early for dinner (6-ish) but it was also cold and rainy all day and most everything except the pubs and restaurants in central Oxford closes by 5 (Blackwells is open late by comparison), so I headed over to Chequers. It's another pub (I think it may also be an actual inn) located at the end of an alleyway (though not nearly as hard to find as Turf Tavern, especially because there's an actual sign jutting out over the sidewalk to announce its presence. You have to turn into the alleyway of Turf Tavern to see the sign.) which has become my favorite kind of pub, mostly because it makes me feel like I've found some hidden treasure.
Chequers inside looks like what I think a British pub should look like.
But, it's food isn't really what I thought pub food was before I got here. And, I've been to a handful of different pubs now (Turf Tavern several times-- for atmosphere and pure kitch, it's still my favorite). It makes me think that British food has gotten a bad rap.
What I've realized about pubs (and, what I was thinking about last night that actually inspired me to start writing this post) is that they don't have what Americans think of as "pub food" at all. I always think pub food and bar food are pretty synonymous-- and there is some bar food fare to be had at pubs (Chequers has nachos-- I may have to go back and order them though. I wonder if they are the same messy, artery clogging, vaguely gross while still being yummy concoction they are in bars in the US). But there is also really well done food.
This is pub food-- chicken and mushroom pie with potatoes and carrots and butternut squash. (Behind it is my pimm's. Along with scones with clotted cream, I really think Americans need to embrace this. Pimm's is really yummy-- I can't quite figure out what the liquor is. It tastes something like Dr. Pepper. And then, it's mixed with seltzer or lemon-lime soda and has some kind of citrus fruit in it; this time, it also had mint leaves, though this is the first time I've had mint in it. All in all, it's very refreshing. It would be dangerously easy to suck down quickly on a warm day.) Food is presented quite well in pubs-- presentation seems key. And, the menus are pretty varied (though there are standards like fish and chips on every pub menu, at least in the ones I've been in). I know I said at some point before I came over here that I don't really like British food (I think I was thinking of Shepard's Pie)-- I may have changed my mind.
I also am not quite sure what British food actually is anymore-- I get that it's bangers and mash and fish and chips, but standard fare in pubs also almost always includes some kind of curry (I don't remember curry on Turf Tavern's menu-- but it seems to on all the other pub menus I've looked at. That's actually what I tried to order first last night-- I wanted the curry but Chequers was out. The menu is changing next week, I was told, so when the kitchen runs out of ingredients for a dish, at the moment it's no longer available. Like the curry I wanted-- a green curry which is a different option than the red curry I had at the White Horse a couple weeks ago. It makes me wonder if different pubs specialize in particular curries.). I know we think of the US as a melting pot-- and it is, but I don't think there's enough attention paid to how much cultural and ethnic diversity there is in England. There is certainly more diversity here than where I live in North Carolina. And, that diversity has made its way into the food-- so much so, that it's not really labeled on menus. For the most part, food isn't denoted as "Thai style" or "Asian style" on the menus (I mean in pubs. In restaurants that specialize in a cuisine-- like a restaurant near me that has both Thai and Chinese food-- these distinctions are quite clear.). The curry I tried to order last night sounded more to me like a Thai curry than an Indian one (the one in White Horse was an Indian curry)-- but in either case, it seems that curry, which isn't British (though, I get, from what used to be a British colony) is now just a part of British food. Which means that British food is more than fish and chips and Shepard's pie-- and has me totally rethinking my uninformed proclamation that I don't really like British food. I'm converted.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Uffington, Blenheim, The Cotswolds and SUN!
It is amazing what a little sun can do for a mood. Even when it's not raining here, it's grey. A lot. Like right now as I'm typing. This makes it look deceptively chilly outside as well, though fortunately, it's often warmer than it looks (or than my chilly flat would lead me to believe). Mostly, though, the weather changes many, many times a day-- it can be sunny at one moment, and then suddenly start raining (or be both sunny and raining at the same time), it can be quite warm out and then a cloud passes over and the temperature drops 15 degrees (Fahrenheit, not Celsius-- I'm never going to get that conversation in my head). However, on a rare day, it's just gorgeous all day. Yesterday was one of those days; the day before was not.
Friday, I forwent the yoga class I had planned to attend to go to Uffington with a few of my students. Uffington is best known for the White Horse, a chalk outline of a horse carved into the hills-- it stands out as white because the soil is pretty much white chalk. It was carved sometime between the 5th and 9th century AD, though the date is really unknown and the reason even more unknown. Clearly it's important, or after all these centuries, someone would have just let the grass grow over it. People over time keep clearing out the image (otherwise, the grass would just cover it up). The White Horse is pretty hard to photograph (a helpful website states that it is best viewed from above-- and then points out that this is "sadly not an option" for most people. This is the sign demonstrating what it does look like (I include it because, as you'll see, this is the best picture I could get of it-- even though this isn't actually it).
Many people think think the actual White Horse looks like a cat. I don't really get that, but maybe it depends on what angle it's approached from. Without an aerial view, it's hard to get a position that allows for seeing the whole thing, especially up close. Viewing it "live" really makes it look like thick white lines in the hill. I tried getting it from multiple angles-- this was made slightly harder by the rain. It's hard to take good pictures in the rain, even after putting the umbrella away and being resigned to getting wet. An image right on top of it makes it clear how big it is and how white.
The best picture of it is from far away though, on Dragon Hill.
Even then, not such a great picture-- at least not one that really makes it look like a horse. Mostly, it's cool because it's so old and, much like Stonehenge, no one can say why it's there-- though at least with Stonehenge, there are some guesses because it does seem to have some connection to the sun's position. As far as I can tell, the White Horse doesn't provide any clues to its purpose.
From the White Horse, we walked up the hill to Uffington Castle and the Iron Fort. I will admit, I was a little confused before we went-- I was thinking of the Iron Age as the time from Iron Bridge, so I was expecting at least remnants of a castle and fort. I was think of the wrong Iron Age-- they mean the one in the early centuries, not the more recent 1700s. So, this is Uffington Castle:
I even took a picture of the sign,
Friday, I forwent the yoga class I had planned to attend to go to Uffington with a few of my students. Uffington is best known for the White Horse, a chalk outline of a horse carved into the hills-- it stands out as white because the soil is pretty much white chalk. It was carved sometime between the 5th and 9th century AD, though the date is really unknown and the reason even more unknown. Clearly it's important, or after all these centuries, someone would have just let the grass grow over it. People over time keep clearing out the image (otherwise, the grass would just cover it up). The White Horse is pretty hard to photograph (a helpful website states that it is best viewed from above-- and then points out that this is "sadly not an option" for most people. This is the sign demonstrating what it does look like (I include it because, as you'll see, this is the best picture I could get of it-- even though this isn't actually it).
Many people think think the actual White Horse looks like a cat. I don't really get that, but maybe it depends on what angle it's approached from. Without an aerial view, it's hard to get a position that allows for seeing the whole thing, especially up close. Viewing it "live" really makes it look like thick white lines in the hill. I tried getting it from multiple angles-- this was made slightly harder by the rain. It's hard to take good pictures in the rain, even after putting the umbrella away and being resigned to getting wet. An image right on top of it makes it clear how big it is and how white.
The best picture of it is from far away though, on Dragon Hill.
From the White Horse, we walked up the hill to Uffington Castle and the Iron Fort. I will admit, I was a little confused before we went-- I was thinking of the Iron Age as the time from Iron Bridge, so I was expecting at least remnants of a castle and fort. I was think of the wrong Iron Age-- they mean the one in the early centuries, not the more recent 1700s. So, this is Uffington Castle:
I even took a picture of the sign,
And, it is a pretty high point, so obviously a good defense point. Not quite as exciting as I was expecting though (I do still think it's funny that a vast expanse of land is a "castle." There are a lot of actual castles and palaces in England-- I wouldn't think they would need one more...)
From "the castle" we went back down the hill and then climbed up Dragon Hill, where St. George is said to have slew the dragon.
We left Uffington and went for tea at Peter's house (the faculty member at Brooke's who planned all the fabulous early excursions and who teaches the British Heritage and Culture course--though that is a really reductive description of all that he does. He drove us all to Uffington.). I am starting to get the British obsession with tea; I don't drink it much when I'm in the US (I think of it as the thing I drink when I have a cold), but there is something comforting about it after a dreary, cold day (and, since dreary cold is pretty normal here, that does make it an every day staple).
Saturday, however, the sun came out-- just in time for me to go on the tour I had booked to Blenheim and Cotswold (really, southern Cotswold-- it's a pretty large area). (As a side note, I was thinking the other day about words it's easy to pick up and words that are not-- I've picked up using book, instead of reservation, really easily. I say it without thinking-- which makes me wonder if I'll keep using it when I return to the US. On the other hand, I have to consciously plan in my head before I ask someone where the toilets are-- it's the word most commonly used for the restroom here [restroom would be a lounge; bathroom is a room that actually has a tub in it]. As an American, it still feels rude to ask for the toilet-- even though it's the word on the signs and the word everyone here uses.) It's a two part tour-- so most of the people on the tour arrived after Blenheim Palace (which I think was a mistake...that's really the best part). I was at Blenheim and in Woodstock, the town where the Palace is, with a lovely couple from Oregon (there are a lot of tourists in Oxford-- it's a large part of the economy. This does make me think that continuing to do tourist things, which I really want to to, doesn't leave much chance for meeting locals.).
Before we went to the Palace, we stopped off at Winston Churchill's grave.
Churchill is buried at Blandon Church. His grave is around the back, so you can't see it in the picture of the actual building (though you can see the lovely blue, cloudless sky So wonderfully sunny and warm that I didn't care that I had set off my own again. It also made me realize how grey and gloomy has become the norm in the past few weeks.).
Blenheim Palace is where Winston Churchill was born-- it belongs to those in his family line. It's astonishingly big.
This is yet another place where pictures aren't allowed inside, so I have none. I really wanted to take a picture of the framed invitations to Charles and Diana's wedding that are on display (the Palace is still lived in at some times of the year, so, like Highclere, there are framed photos of the current Duke and Duchess as well as these kinds of more recent artifacts on display-- most of them are, like at Highclere, in frames on tables rather than hung on the walls). The invitations are really plain-- I would have expected that the invitation to the wedding of Charles and Di would have been ornate and royal looking. Instead, they kind of look like something that could be quickly produced in a word document (I'm sure they weren't; in fact, I'm sure they were quite expensive. But, it's hard to tell by looking at them.). There is a self guided tour of the downstairs state rooms (it is possible to take a guided tour, but they set off when a large enough group gathers, not at set times, and the docents allow the groups to get quite big which makes it hard to hear the guide, so it's not really worth joining one. There are signs around.) and then a "ghost-led" audio tour in the upstairs rooms which explains the history of the Churchill family (including how they lost the name and then gained it back-- the Churchill named had died out because at one time, there was only a female heir and she had her husband's name, but one of the later Duke's applied to have it restored as his name.) and is led by the ghost (there are videos in every room with her apparition) of a woman who served the first Duchess to live at Blenheim Palace. It was a little cheesy-- I wish I could have taken pictures. Every room had representative models of historical figures, like the first Duchess (Sarah) to live in the Palace and those figures had their backs facing those who walked in the rooms. They would then be positioned towards mirrors, and so when they were "speaking" the faces of actors, dressed like the figures, would appear on the screens of the mirrors. And, as those actors sighed or pretended to look at something off to the side or looked down to read letters, the figures in front of the mirrors moved as well (it was all a little disconcerting at the same time that is was fascinating, especially since the mechanical devices moving the figures made noise that could be heard over the dialogue).
The one interior I did manage to take a picture of was the chapel. I'm not sure if I was supposed to or not, but there was no sign saying no photography and no docent around to stop me.
The monument to the right in the picture is a tomb that Sarah had built for her husband to commemorate him-- it's truly huge. And commemorative.
It's kind of the "back yard." (Actually, I guess that's the side wall of the Palace, so it's really the side yard.)
From Blenheim Palace, we (I had met back up with the couple from Oregon) headed into Woodstock to have lunch at a pub. The walk there, which is largely along the road that leads into the Palace, is lovely too since it's alongside the Queen's Pool (I love that it's called a pool...).
It's oddly nice to be able to order a beer with lunch and be among the masses, not one of the minority. Beer, for the most part, has a significantly lower alcohol content than in the US, so maybe that has something to do with it, but I've noticed a lot of people have wine (or beer) at lunch here. And, it was a leisurely Saturday tour through some more rural parts of England (not really a leisurely lunch though because there wasn't much time for it before the van arrived to collect us-- we all had figured lunch was the most boring part of the day and so left barely enough time, especially since The Star Inn was packed) and a gorgeous day out, having a beer seemed like the thing to do. It was called Blond something-- incredibly light in color and then, again, surprisingly hoppy considering what I expect from a beer that looks that light golden in the pint glass. (Maybe I'll start taking pictures of my beer- that might help.)
group of 13 of us went on to tour Cotswold. We went first to Minster Lovell where there is a church and the ruins of a 15th century manor (more like what I thought I was going to see in Uffington.).
The Church, St. Kenelm's, has obviously been upkept and restored. There's the tomb of Baron Lovell is in the church-- I did learn that, although he is dressed to represent that he was in the military, the fact that his hand is not on his sword most likely indicates that he died of natural causes, not in battle. The hand on the sword would mean he died in action. I've learned other interesting facts about tombs along the way (like that what their feet is propped on matters...it says something about station in life), so I may emerge from this whole adventure able to "read" tombs, at least British ones. It does make them more interesting to look at-- which is good, because there are a lot of them (though, this is the only one in this particular church-- it's not clear whether he's actually buried here though).
The manor, however, has not. It's been left in its partially torn down, dilapidated state, though there is a sign depicting what it would have looked like.
Now it looks like this.
That's the window in the "sun room."
The whole place is so run down because after the family was run out and the manor was abandoned, locals from the town started showing up and carting off the stone that made up the walls of the house to use to build their own homes. At some point (I think we were told exactly when but now I forget-- these all day kind of excursions and tours are amazing, but at some point, there is an information overload), the place was declared a historical site and protected, so the stone stealing stopped. You can still see remnants of how amazing it must have been (though, where it's still intact, it's also dark, so you can't really see the way the ceilings were constructed).
And, the view of it and the church together give a nice sense of the grandeur.
From Minster Lovell, we went to Burford, a staging post for many centuries. Apparently Kate Moss and Rupert Murdoch's daughter, Elisabeth Murdoch, live in Burford, but I didn't see them. We did pass Elisabeth Murdoch's "house" (it cost something like 6.5 million pounds) but it's hidden behind a very large gate and wall, so even though it's close to the main road, you can't see it. We visited St. George the Baptist Church
We also had time to wander around the town for a few minutes (still no signs of Kate Moss or Elisabeth Murdoch and family). There's a fabulous store called Madhatter Books-- it sells hats and books.
And, there is an inn covered in the leaves and vines that seem to decorate a lot of houses in the Cotswold.
It's especially gorgeous since the leaves have started turning. Our tour guide told us what this is called-- it's a specific plant. But, I'm terrible with plants on a good day, and especially awful at remembering names after so many hours of information, so I've forgotten. I'm guessing that it's not harmful to the limestone that a lot of these buildings are constructed in since it's everywhere.
There are lots of sheep in Cotswold. It's a wool center-- that's what its economy is based on. So, we went to Filkins, a village with a woolen weaving center and a historical display showing the process of how wool once went from shearing to loom product-- by hand.
From front to back, there's sheared wool, processed wool (that is now thick thread) to the loom. There is also a small tea shop at the weaving center, so we had tea. I think I was the only one who had a scone-- it was hot out of the oven which was a huge bonus but served only with jam and not (surprisingly!) with clotted cream, and so still not as good as Oxford's Vault and Gardens (tea and scones are far more fun to review than yogurt-- I did start off the day with butterscotch toffee yogurt, but I can't even remember what it tasted like, so I'm thinking it was totally unremarkable. Then again, I did have to wake up pretty early to meet the tour, so maybe I was just to sleepy to notice.).
From Filkens, we ended the day in Bibury to see the weaver's cottages.
They're charming, located along the River Coln. They were converted from an old barn in the 17th century for the weavers.
It's not a particularly big river, but I'm guessing served its purpose for transport. There are rainbow trout in it-- supposedly there is a trout farm nearby, but we didn't see that. We did continue to see the sun (as you can tell from this picture). I had arrived in the morning with a heavy coat and an umbrella, prepared for all weather possibilities and didn't need either all day (well, I needed the coat when we got back to Oxford-- once the sun goes down, it's chilly no matter how clear the skies).
And, since it was close to 7:30 by the time I got back to my neighborhood, and way to late to start cooking, I stopped at the good pizza place, Cafe Corsica (though, more recognizable as the pizza place since "Pizza" is written in big letters on the window and easier to see than the name of the restaurant) and got take away pizza-- with the added bonus that there is some left for lunch today.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
The Difference Between Traveling and Living
It's a vast difference-- the traveling part is great. The living part, it turns out, is really hard. I've been in Oxford just over a month now (this Saturday will be exactly 5 weeks) and I think I've actually crossed over into living here-- what I've been doing up until now has really all been largely traveling, with various elements of getting settled. But, I've now taught classes for two weeks (which includes returning to "normal" activities like reading student work and prepping lecture/discussion notes), spent several evenings at home watching TV (I have switched to catching up on what is currently being aired in the US online-- I can only take so many Law and Order: SVU, CSI:, and NCIS repeats and I've reached my limit. On the upside, somehow season 2 of Homeland is being broadcast here, running one week behind the US broadcasts on Showtime. I don't quite understand what contract allows this since it seems to be running on what we would consider network TV, but I'm not going to complain about it. [Well, maybe a little-- it runs on the same night at Downton Abbey which means there is only one evening of non-US crime dramas and I would prefer it more spread out.]), and spent days in my flat doing work (like prepping for class, working on other projects) rather than going out and exploring Oxford or other places. It's the daily living that makes this whole experience hard-- I've moved to a new place where I know no one and where the way things work is all a bit different so I still haven't gotten the daily living thing down.
Like, I still have yet to actually go to a yoga class (this lack of yoga is becoming more important to me-- I can feel the effects of walking so much every day and I think yoga would help. And, I've just about given up on being able to play tennis at all here. I think yoga, which is my other regular "organized" sport activity in the US, would add some sense of normalcy.) I tried to go this past Monday but couldn't get into the class, despite arriving 25 minutes early, because it was already full. Turns out, space needs to be booked in these classes, at least during the school year. No one ever mentioned this to me, not even the last time when I showed up to find out the class had been canceled. (I have booked a place this coming Friday. I'm hoping it's a whole third time's a charm thing.) Booking is incredibly important here-- that's becoming more clear to me-- even when it's not stated that it's necessary.
And, I certainly haven't figured out how to meet people. Not that I haven't met people-- I talk to people every day when I'm out. But, I haven't figured out where people "like me" are, probably because when I'm out and about during the day, people like me are at work. So, mostly the people I meet are travelers, which makes them transient as well. What I don't have is people to hang out with or actual friends here. I've moved quite a bit and so I get that this takes time-- it's taken time to establish that friend base every time I've moved somewhere new. But, there's also the realization that I don't really have time to contend with-- I have a little less than 3 months left here. It's a weird liminal space to be in-- I live here, but not for long. How do you establish yourself when there's a nearing expiration date? And, where do you actually meet people when you don't have a regular work place? While I'm teaching here, I'm not connected to any department-- I'm on my own, a department of one. This is nice on one hand-- no meetings to attend (I'm getting a perverse glee out of deleting emails about committee meetings at my university in the US and even more glee from actually responding decline to meetings scheduled through Outlook Calendar.) and no other service requirements for 4 months (other than making sure the 24 students I came over with are still alive-- which is a great service, I think). But, having not found tennis connections (which is a big source of my social life in the US) and having no professional ties nor workplace (other than the classroom I've been assigned), two major sources for meeting people are gone. I have lots of free time to do stuff and be out and about... but where to go to meet people to do that stuff with is a question I haven't answered yet (or, my answers haven't proven to be the "right" ones yet).
There are also questions of how to manage the "household." I haven't really figured out how to eat here-- not that I'm not eating, but I'm not eating the way I normally do. I cook a lot at home and that means that I eat healthier than I think I do here (it's hard to tell because I'm pretty good about knowing things like how many calories I'm eating in a day when I'm in the US and I have a guess about that here based on food labels, but I'm really sure. Plus, ingredients are just a bit different...different enough that I'm never quite sure what they're equivalent to, or not.) It's not that I can't cook here-- I have a full kitchen (though, no microwave which does make leftovers more problematic to heat up; not impossible though). But, cooking doesn't just require equipment and basic ingredients-- it also requires spices and herbs and oils and other kinds of staples that I'm not sure I want to invest in because they cost quite a bit of money and I'm not going to use them up in my remaining three-ish months and so I'm going to wind up abandoning these things, if not throwing them away. (I think about this quite a bit-- groceries are quite expensive here and I don't like wasting food. That combined means I'm really concerned about what might be leftover at the end of my time here-- there's the opportunity to waste both time and actual food. For example, I've already bought a bag of rice-- which is relatively inexpensive in the grand scheme of things as rice is in most places-- that I'm never going to use up, partially because that's a lot of rice and partially because I've come to the realization that this wasn't the smartest purchase since it's hard to make just one serving of rice at a time and somewhat difficult to heat rice up without a microwave. The oven doesn't work-- that just creates a crunchy mess.) Plus, the traveler part of me really wants to eat out and try new restaurants, which I think is one of the great experiences of traveling, so, I'm not all too inspired to cook (until I start worrying that the food I'm eating out isn't necessarily healthy, even if it might appear to be... I don't really know how it's prepared or exactly what's in it. It's a vicious cycle.)
Cleaning products don't pose the same dilemma for me-- there were some here when I arrived, so I feel some obligation to leave a few behind as well. And, they don't expire, really. But, some of those chores are oddly disorienting, especially laundry. My clothes are being ruined-- there's no other way to look at it. Edges are frayed (especially, for lack of a more polite word, on undergarments), socks are quickly threadbare, and everything shrinks in the extreme heat of the dryer. (This brings up a separate shopping dilemma as well-- I really didn't bring enough clothes with me [don't ask what my suitcase was filled with that made it so overweight when I checked in. I haven't figured this out yet either. It may be that the suitcase itself is heavy.] and I'm down a pair of jeans since the zipper fell apart the first time I washed them [Gap is replacing those-- my mom returned them in the US. They were a new pair of jeans. Even with the questionable washing machine/dryer combo here, they shouldn't fall apart after one wash. And, the replacements have been mailed to me-- but it could take weeks for them to get here.]. So, I have the urge to go shopping-- yet, I don't want to spend money on clothes that will also most likely get ruined in the wash.) I have yet to figure out if it's the machine itself or the laundry products-- the soap seems harsh in texture and there's no discernible place to put fabric softener into the machine. (I need to find a manual really-- I never seem to think of this at a convenient moment.) It's strange that something so ordinary can become such a focus and source of disorientation.
Another ordinary and yet now disorienting feature of living abroad: trash. New trash cans (and recycle bins!) were brought to the building-- apparently the whole trash pick-up thing has been a source of great consternation for a while. But, it's unclear (since I live at a corner) which street they are supposed to be put out on. And, there is an alternating week system here, so trash is picked up one week and recycling the next-- I'm bound to lose track of the weeks. Information was provided about which bin to use for each, but not on what day anything would be picked up (my landlord investigated and found out it was Tuesday... she finally got an answer pretty late Monday night, so I never put the cans out. I think this week was recycle-- it's ok because the cans have only been here a few days. There wasn't much in them.). And, there's no assigned cans, so I'm guessing that means they can all be used communally? But then this begs questions of who is supposed to move the cans... which I'm guessing we all have since I don't think anyone in the building put any of the cans out this week (then again, it's possible no one knew that Tuesday was pickup day). It's such a basic thing-- I do this automatically and with little thought in the US. So, it's really strange that I've put so much thought into it here (like, where in my flat do I divide trash and recycling-- at home I have two separate bins, but do I want to go out and buy a new trashcan for recycling for this flat? I certainly don't want to have to go outside every time I have something to put in the recycling-- it rains a lot.).
All of this brings up strange things I never would have thought I would miss-- like my washing machine and dryer. And my microwave. And cliff bars. (I have brief moments of missing my dishwasher... but since I don't cook that much, that's fleeting.) And, central heat. There are radiators in every room, but the one in the living room doesn't seem to work. (I have been told that it does work and that the fact that it doesn't come on immediately has something to do with the whole differentiation between day and overnight electricity, but the bottom line is, I can't get heat from it.) My lovely landlord did bring me a space heater.
It's blindingly bright, but it does heat the couch area of my living room. Or the dining area table (which is why it's on right now-- the wireless modem is in the living room and the signal gets weak if I have my computer in the second bedroom. So, now it resides on the dining table, which is fine. That gives me a nice view of my gorgeous back garden as I type.). Still-- I would like to just turn heat that runs throughout the flat.
I think living here is just harder than I thought it would be-- all for reasons I hadn't considered before I left (I had thought about the potential for being lonely; I had not considered that my clothes would quickly be in such bad shape I would look like I've been living on the streets). It is mitigated by the whole traveling part of the experience, however. I am going with a tour group (hopefully a chance to meet some people-- I purposefully booked a weekend tour hoping that it would have locals who just wanted to do something cool for the day) to Blenheim and Cotswold on Saturday (this also brings up questions of expenses... but I think I've decided that I only get to do this once so I may as well spend the money rather than regret not doing things). And, I spent the day yesterday at the Ashmolean Museum.
I especially like the statue at the top that looks like it's welcoming visitors. The museum has an impressive collection from all over the world (though, not much from North or South America-- I can't really remember anything from either) and through all time periods. I took a lot of pictures of mummies, mostly because my niece has asked for pictures of mummies and this was the first time I'd seen any. There were the expected varieties of both adults and children.
And then the unexpected mummified animals, which I found fascinating.
There's a cat at the top right and the one near the bottom is a crocodile. I guess it's the ancient Egyptian equivalent to taxidermy, but I still thought it was interestingly strange (did they have pet crocodiles? Why these particular animals were mummified was not explained.).
Like, I still have yet to actually go to a yoga class (this lack of yoga is becoming more important to me-- I can feel the effects of walking so much every day and I think yoga would help. And, I've just about given up on being able to play tennis at all here. I think yoga, which is my other regular "organized" sport activity in the US, would add some sense of normalcy.) I tried to go this past Monday but couldn't get into the class, despite arriving 25 minutes early, because it was already full. Turns out, space needs to be booked in these classes, at least during the school year. No one ever mentioned this to me, not even the last time when I showed up to find out the class had been canceled. (I have booked a place this coming Friday. I'm hoping it's a whole third time's a charm thing.) Booking is incredibly important here-- that's becoming more clear to me-- even when it's not stated that it's necessary.
And, I certainly haven't figured out how to meet people. Not that I haven't met people-- I talk to people every day when I'm out. But, I haven't figured out where people "like me" are, probably because when I'm out and about during the day, people like me are at work. So, mostly the people I meet are travelers, which makes them transient as well. What I don't have is people to hang out with or actual friends here. I've moved quite a bit and so I get that this takes time-- it's taken time to establish that friend base every time I've moved somewhere new. But, there's also the realization that I don't really have time to contend with-- I have a little less than 3 months left here. It's a weird liminal space to be in-- I live here, but not for long. How do you establish yourself when there's a nearing expiration date? And, where do you actually meet people when you don't have a regular work place? While I'm teaching here, I'm not connected to any department-- I'm on my own, a department of one. This is nice on one hand-- no meetings to attend (I'm getting a perverse glee out of deleting emails about committee meetings at my university in the US and even more glee from actually responding decline to meetings scheduled through Outlook Calendar.) and no other service requirements for 4 months (other than making sure the 24 students I came over with are still alive-- which is a great service, I think). But, having not found tennis connections (which is a big source of my social life in the US) and having no professional ties nor workplace (other than the classroom I've been assigned), two major sources for meeting people are gone. I have lots of free time to do stuff and be out and about... but where to go to meet people to do that stuff with is a question I haven't answered yet (or, my answers haven't proven to be the "right" ones yet).
There are also questions of how to manage the "household." I haven't really figured out how to eat here-- not that I'm not eating, but I'm not eating the way I normally do. I cook a lot at home and that means that I eat healthier than I think I do here (it's hard to tell because I'm pretty good about knowing things like how many calories I'm eating in a day when I'm in the US and I have a guess about that here based on food labels, but I'm really sure. Plus, ingredients are just a bit different...different enough that I'm never quite sure what they're equivalent to, or not.) It's not that I can't cook here-- I have a full kitchen (though, no microwave which does make leftovers more problematic to heat up; not impossible though). But, cooking doesn't just require equipment and basic ingredients-- it also requires spices and herbs and oils and other kinds of staples that I'm not sure I want to invest in because they cost quite a bit of money and I'm not going to use them up in my remaining three-ish months and so I'm going to wind up abandoning these things, if not throwing them away. (I think about this quite a bit-- groceries are quite expensive here and I don't like wasting food. That combined means I'm really concerned about what might be leftover at the end of my time here-- there's the opportunity to waste both time and actual food. For example, I've already bought a bag of rice-- which is relatively inexpensive in the grand scheme of things as rice is in most places-- that I'm never going to use up, partially because that's a lot of rice and partially because I've come to the realization that this wasn't the smartest purchase since it's hard to make just one serving of rice at a time and somewhat difficult to heat rice up without a microwave. The oven doesn't work-- that just creates a crunchy mess.) Plus, the traveler part of me really wants to eat out and try new restaurants, which I think is one of the great experiences of traveling, so, I'm not all too inspired to cook (until I start worrying that the food I'm eating out isn't necessarily healthy, even if it might appear to be... I don't really know how it's prepared or exactly what's in it. It's a vicious cycle.)
Cleaning products don't pose the same dilemma for me-- there were some here when I arrived, so I feel some obligation to leave a few behind as well. And, they don't expire, really. But, some of those chores are oddly disorienting, especially laundry. My clothes are being ruined-- there's no other way to look at it. Edges are frayed (especially, for lack of a more polite word, on undergarments), socks are quickly threadbare, and everything shrinks in the extreme heat of the dryer. (This brings up a separate shopping dilemma as well-- I really didn't bring enough clothes with me [don't ask what my suitcase was filled with that made it so overweight when I checked in. I haven't figured this out yet either. It may be that the suitcase itself is heavy.] and I'm down a pair of jeans since the zipper fell apart the first time I washed them [Gap is replacing those-- my mom returned them in the US. They were a new pair of jeans. Even with the questionable washing machine/dryer combo here, they shouldn't fall apart after one wash. And, the replacements have been mailed to me-- but it could take weeks for them to get here.]. So, I have the urge to go shopping-- yet, I don't want to spend money on clothes that will also most likely get ruined in the wash.) I have yet to figure out if it's the machine itself or the laundry products-- the soap seems harsh in texture and there's no discernible place to put fabric softener into the machine. (I need to find a manual really-- I never seem to think of this at a convenient moment.) It's strange that something so ordinary can become such a focus and source of disorientation.
Another ordinary and yet now disorienting feature of living abroad: trash. New trash cans (and recycle bins!) were brought to the building-- apparently the whole trash pick-up thing has been a source of great consternation for a while. But, it's unclear (since I live at a corner) which street they are supposed to be put out on. And, there is an alternating week system here, so trash is picked up one week and recycling the next-- I'm bound to lose track of the weeks. Information was provided about which bin to use for each, but not on what day anything would be picked up (my landlord investigated and found out it was Tuesday... she finally got an answer pretty late Monday night, so I never put the cans out. I think this week was recycle-- it's ok because the cans have only been here a few days. There wasn't much in them.). And, there's no assigned cans, so I'm guessing that means they can all be used communally? But then this begs questions of who is supposed to move the cans... which I'm guessing we all have since I don't think anyone in the building put any of the cans out this week (then again, it's possible no one knew that Tuesday was pickup day). It's such a basic thing-- I do this automatically and with little thought in the US. So, it's really strange that I've put so much thought into it here (like, where in my flat do I divide trash and recycling-- at home I have two separate bins, but do I want to go out and buy a new trashcan for recycling for this flat? I certainly don't want to have to go outside every time I have something to put in the recycling-- it rains a lot.).
All of this brings up strange things I never would have thought I would miss-- like my washing machine and dryer. And my microwave. And cliff bars. (I have brief moments of missing my dishwasher... but since I don't cook that much, that's fleeting.) And, central heat. There are radiators in every room, but the one in the living room doesn't seem to work. (I have been told that it does work and that the fact that it doesn't come on immediately has something to do with the whole differentiation between day and overnight electricity, but the bottom line is, I can't get heat from it.) My lovely landlord did bring me a space heater.
It's blindingly bright, but it does heat the couch area of my living room. Or the dining area table (which is why it's on right now-- the wireless modem is in the living room and the signal gets weak if I have my computer in the second bedroom. So, now it resides on the dining table, which is fine. That gives me a nice view of my gorgeous back garden as I type.). Still-- I would like to just turn heat that runs throughout the flat.
I think living here is just harder than I thought it would be-- all for reasons I hadn't considered before I left (I had thought about the potential for being lonely; I had not considered that my clothes would quickly be in such bad shape I would look like I've been living on the streets). It is mitigated by the whole traveling part of the experience, however. I am going with a tour group (hopefully a chance to meet some people-- I purposefully booked a weekend tour hoping that it would have locals who just wanted to do something cool for the day) to Blenheim and Cotswold on Saturday (this also brings up questions of expenses... but I think I've decided that I only get to do this once so I may as well spend the money rather than regret not doing things). And, I spent the day yesterday at the Ashmolean Museum.
I especially like the statue at the top that looks like it's welcoming visitors. The museum has an impressive collection from all over the world (though, not much from North or South America-- I can't really remember anything from either) and through all time periods. I took a lot of pictures of mummies, mostly because my niece has asked for pictures of mummies and this was the first time I'd seen any. There were the expected varieties of both adults and children.
And then the unexpected mummified animals, which I found fascinating.
I also really like the Roman tragedy masks.
This is a king-- and connects to the theater traditions I learned all about in my undergraduate theater history classes. It's kind of like the Marconi telegraph for me-- I really appreciate seeing the original versions of artifacts I've read about in great detail.
There were also interesting musical instruments, like a virginal, which I've heard of, but never seen.
It looks a lot like a small piano, but there are also strings which were (according to the sign on the wall) also plucked manually. And, there was a large collection of Toby Jugs.
They were originally made in Staffordshire in the 1760s and most commonly based on recognizable people (often Kings) though eventually they were produced worldwide. They are a cute English-origin piece of pottery (and, I kind of want one now...).
There are also lots of important paintings in the Ashmolean, but photography is not allowed, so I can't show any of them. The most impressive for me were in the Pissarro room and surrounding ones-- these include works by many of the Impressionists, names I recognize and paintings I've read about. I'm pretty sure that many other words are equally impressive, but a lot were names I don't know-- it did make me realize that what art history I do know is limited largely to a particular time period (late 19th and early 20th century). I still find when I go to museums that it's the exhibits of things (like furniture, mummies, ancient money) that keep my attention much more than the paintings. (There were some lovely pieces of furniture-- they were largely scattered about in rooms with the paintings, so I couldn't photograph them either.)
The Ashmolean is a wonderful collection, but I still think that for the experience, the Oxford Museum of Natural History and Pitt Rivers Museum are the must-sees (that does say a lot for my personal preferences about what I like to look at...).
The whole experience of spending a day in a museum or looking forward to a day touring Blenheim and Cotswold sort of emphasizes my point though-- the living part of my experience is caught up in mundane things that tend to seem difficult in magnified ways on days when even just one thing goes amiss (like a cancelled or full yoga class) while the traveling part of me can see how this is an opportunity I'll probably never have again and relishes the things I get to do that are so out of the ordinary routine of what my life were like if I were (easily) living in my house in the US and going to my job every day. It is what I keep focusing on when all the stuff from the first part of this starts to wear (and, the excitement of new yogurt flavors-- this week a pineapple, passion fruit and mango combo and butterscotch toffee-- doesn't seem so exciting anymore. To be honest, I'm really not this much of a yogurt nut-- but my observation of how even this little thing like yogurt is different has created some strange, specific interest from a few who are following this blog-- you know who you are-- so I've included the yogurt update.).
This is a king-- and connects to the theater traditions I learned all about in my undergraduate theater history classes. It's kind of like the Marconi telegraph for me-- I really appreciate seeing the original versions of artifacts I've read about in great detail.
There were also interesting musical instruments, like a virginal, which I've heard of, but never seen.
It looks a lot like a small piano, but there are also strings which were (according to the sign on the wall) also plucked manually. And, there was a large collection of Toby Jugs.
They were originally made in Staffordshire in the 1760s and most commonly based on recognizable people (often Kings) though eventually they were produced worldwide. They are a cute English-origin piece of pottery (and, I kind of want one now...).
There are also lots of important paintings in the Ashmolean, but photography is not allowed, so I can't show any of them. The most impressive for me were in the Pissarro room and surrounding ones-- these include works by many of the Impressionists, names I recognize and paintings I've read about. I'm pretty sure that many other words are equally impressive, but a lot were names I don't know-- it did make me realize that what art history I do know is limited largely to a particular time period (late 19th and early 20th century). I still find when I go to museums that it's the exhibits of things (like furniture, mummies, ancient money) that keep my attention much more than the paintings. (There were some lovely pieces of furniture-- they were largely scattered about in rooms with the paintings, so I couldn't photograph them either.)
The Ashmolean is a wonderful collection, but I still think that for the experience, the Oxford Museum of Natural History and Pitt Rivers Museum are the must-sees (that does say a lot for my personal preferences about what I like to look at...).
The whole experience of spending a day in a museum or looking forward to a day touring Blenheim and Cotswold sort of emphasizes my point though-- the living part of my experience is caught up in mundane things that tend to seem difficult in magnified ways on days when even just one thing goes amiss (like a cancelled or full yoga class) while the traveling part of me can see how this is an opportunity I'll probably never have again and relishes the things I get to do that are so out of the ordinary routine of what my life were like if I were (easily) living in my house in the US and going to my job every day. It is what I keep focusing on when all the stuff from the first part of this starts to wear (and, the excitement of new yogurt flavors-- this week a pineapple, passion fruit and mango combo and butterscotch toffee-- doesn't seem so exciting anymore. To be honest, I'm really not this much of a yogurt nut-- but my observation of how even this little thing like yogurt is different has created some strange, specific interest from a few who are following this blog-- you know who you are-- so I've included the yogurt update.).
Sunday, September 30, 2012
I Would Walk 500 Miles...
which I think I came close to while my mom and sister were here. In a week, we went to Stratford-Upon-Avon, Bath, and London and also spent a few days in Oxford.
Oxford: Day 1 of Visit
My mom and sister got of the plane really jet lagged having not slept for quite a while, and yet, since it's best to push through and try and get on the time of country, I dragged them all over Oxford on a walking tour. We really didn't go in anywhere except Vaults and Garden Cafe, a restaurant in the shadow the Bodleian that I've been wanting to go to.
We had tea there-- we had tea everywhere, every day but one. Spoiler alert: this is the best tea we had all week. It's not so much the tea itself (the actual best tea is at Hathaway's) but because the restaurant makes scones to order, so they are always hot. Clotted cream melts nicely on hot scones; clotted cream has become my new favorite condiment. I've never really looked for it in the US, so I don't know how easy it is to find, but I'm guessing I'm going to go through some withdrawal when I get back. It's much better than butter. When we through the tea overboard in Boston, we really should have had the foresight to keep the clotted cream-- if those in the Boston Tea Party really knew (or remembered-- I'm not sure when clotted cream was first "invented") how yummy it was, I don't think they would have objected to the whole taxation thing so vehemently.
Vaults and Garden Cafe is in the "Old Congregation House" of Oxford University, so sitting inside or out, it's really lovely. We sat inside-- though I get the feeling it's not really cold for Oxford (a thought which makes me wonder how miserable I'm going to be come December), it was hot in DC where my mom and sister left from and they hadn't acclimated yet, so they thought it was really cold. (Any picture of my mom is her really bundled up-- but I swear Oxford, or England in general, is not the arctic.)
(That's my very jet lagged sister-- she's holding her head up here so she won't go to sleep on the table, which she came close to doing.) Mostly it was a day of walking-- one which demonstrated how impressively familiar with Oxford I've become because I can at least walk around and name all the impressive sights in City Centre (though, I still don't know all the colleges, or even most of them. Most aren't well labeled... I can recognize the "big" ones like Magdalen, Christ Church and Merton. And a few others-- but it does leave me saying, "I don't know" to many (since there are 32) others when asked "what is that?" I know it's a college-- just not which one. I wonder how long I would have to live here to figure it all out.) We did go to what is now my favorite restaurant in Oxford-- and wonderfully located just a few blocks from my flat-- Bar Meze. I could easily eat their Sasuka (an eggplant dish) every night for dinner. If it wasn't for the fact that I think I should try every place I possibly can since I'm only here for a short time, I probably would.
Stratford-Upon-Avon: Day 2 of Visit
The second day was my first experience with the rail system in England. It's pretty efficient-- though, since we went to Stratford on a Sunday we had limited options for train times.
This meant we didn't get to do nearly as much as we would have liked because we had 3 pm tickets to see a play and the first train out of Oxford was at about 10:45 am. I may have to go back-- we bought tickets to see many of the Shakespeare sights and only got to go through the welcome center and his birthplace. We missed Nash's House (his grandaughter's house), New Place (the house he retired in), and Hall's Croft (his daughter's house) which are all located pretty close to where we are. (We also missed Anne Hathaway's Cottage and Mary Arden's Farm-- those are "hikes" outside of Stratford proper though.)
Shakespeare's birthplace is fascinating-- and quite cute. The gardens are gorgeous. (All the outdoor pictures have umbrellas-- it never stopped raining. We pushed on anyway.)
There are lots of "markers" that demonstrate how wealthy a family Shakespeare came from-- the most fascinating is the bed in the drawing room.
That's not a bedroom-- it's the front sitting room. We were told that a wealthy family would put a bed in the drawing/sitting room to demonstrate that it was wealthy enough to own a bed-- the bed was situated pretty close to a window so anyone passing by could also see it (and, be jealous of such great wealth). It wasn't just any bed either-- it was the best bed in the house. And, it was pretty much for display-- no one slept on it. (The rain meant that the lighting wasn't so great for taking pictures-- but I took them of individual rooms anyway. The rooms, especially the dining room, are pretty plain compared to the ones in the Royal Crescent-- but these are about 400 years older. What constitutes wealth over the ages is fascinating.)
The last one is my favorite-- I like that there is a room that replicated the slaughtering of animals just to be very clear about what the room is for.
After touring Shakespeare's birthplace (and, walking around in the rain for quite a while), it was time for tea, this time at Hathaway's Tea House.
It's obviously been remodeled at some point, but I like that there is an "original" feel to the wood beams. This was definitely the fanciest tea we went to since it was a full tea, with sandwiches, cakes and scones.
The sandwiches were really good-- I don't know why people don't appreciate cucumber sandwiches more. I've even seen commercials here that poke fun at the cucumber sandwich, but I think they're really good. I think it's all in the mayonnaise used (I'm not a big fan of mayonnaise-- but whatever this was was flavored really well. It wasn't just plain mayonnaise.)
There was a food festival going on in Stratford when we were there-- it's too bad it was raining so hard because the food looked amazing. But it was all outdoors and so there weren't many people at it-- it didn't seem like much fun to sit in the cold rain and eat. We also didn't have much time to browse the food stands nor the farmers' market set up right outside the Royal Shakespeare Theater because we had tickets to Comedy of Errors. I tried to take a picture of the stage before the show started-- the company is doing a trilogy of shipwreck plays, so there's a tank of water of that runs under the first portion of the stage and is filled with "artifacts" found in the sea. But, it's not well lit before the show starts so the picture really didn't come out. (That and there were a lot of people there-- they blocked the shot.) The production was amazing! I've seen both great and awful productions of Shakespeare-- this might have been the best. Comedy of Errors isn't a play I'm familiar with-- it's never assigned to be read in schools and I honestly can't remember even seeing a performance of it advertised. So, I'm totally unfamiliar with it-- but it was so easy to understand (not that I really struggle with Shakespeare, but I was a little worried that the actors' accents would throw me, but only one did. And he was a minor role.) It's a hilarious play-- I don't know why it isn't performed more often. And, having toured the small museum and Shakespeare's birthplace, I do now understand his obsession with certain themes more (like twins- he had twins, one of whom died. His twin plays are likely inspired by his "fantasy" that his second child is lost and separated, not dead.)
Like everywhere, shops and restaurants close early on Sundays, so we just headed back to the train station after the play and got back to Oxford in time to eat dinner, once again at a place near my flat-- a Chinese restaurant named Yummy. It seems like a precarious name for any restaurant-- that sets up quite a few expectations. But it lived up to it's name-- the wonton soup and chicken and cashew were particularly good. (Turns out in comparison to English tea, Chinese tea is very weak. I think English tea may have ruined ordering tea in a Chinese restaurant for me.) And, we made it home in time to watch Downton Abbey, season 3, episode 2 (which I'm still not writing about-- but it's driving me crazy not to be able to talk about it.)
Bath (revisited): Day 3 of Visit
This was all starting to feel like a whirlwind, even by day three, especially since we were getting up early and getting home late in an attempt to take full advantage of anything and everything we could (I'm still stuck in some weird limbo between living here and being a tourist here-- and I don't think that's actually going to change while I'm here. Four months leaves with some status I'm not sure there's a name for since it doesn't make me either tourist or resident.). There are more trains during the week though, so we didn't quite have to time the schedule as precisely to get to Bath on a Monday as we did to get to Stratford on Sunday.
The first thing we did when we got to Bath was stop for tea (or, really a tea kind of setting with hot chocolate. Bath has the best hot chocolate ever-- I may have mentioned this before, but it's worth mentioning again. And, this time, I had people to share it with. I kept trying to encourage my students to get the hot chocolate the first time I was there, but they kept opting for coffee drinks. I totally understood the desire for the caffeine boost, but I really needed someone to exclaim about the amazing hot chocolate with me. It was validating to have my mom and sister go.)
There is also a tea pot there-- my mom had tea while my sister and I had one milk chocolate and one dark chocolate drink. (I still have yet to try the chili chocolate, which may be a reason to go back to Bath-- though I feel like I've pretty much seen all the tourist sites.)
We went to the Roman Baths, which I'd already been to but which were equally amazing the second time around (this is a picture from my first visit-- my mom and sister took most of the pictures this time around).
And, I got to see stuff I missed the first time (we had limited time and it was much more crowded the first time I went), like the display of jewels (though, really jewels by ancient standards, not modern ones) that were found in the baths during excavations. The hot water probably melted the glue holding them in. A lot of it was amber (which isn't really a "jewel" now)-- but it was very cool because there were engravings in the amber, even in really small stones. And, I listened to the Bill Bryson commentary when I was going through-- there's not as much "history" in those comments, but it does highlight what can be imagined about the lives of those who built and used the baths. I listened to some of the kids commentaries too-- they're really well done and include the voices of "characters" who populated the baths. I think I like the combination of those two when touring-- but no matter what, the amount of commentary can border on overwhelming (in a good way).
There were sites I wanted to see that I didn't get to the first time I was in Bath: the Fashion Museum, the Assembly Rooms and the Jane Austen Center. The Fashion Museum is again overwhelming with it's commentary, but it includes a really nice range of "costume" from around the early 18th century to the present and is divided by category, like sport.
Oxford: Day 4 of Visit
I have been holding off doing some things in Oxford so that when people come to visit, I'm not bored. So, on day 4 we went to the Botanic Gardens and the Museum of the History of Science. The Botanic Gardens are stunning:
which is surprising when I think about it. It's cold and rainy here for a lot of the year-- and it was cold-ish and rainy for a lot of the time my mom and sister were here. And yet, there is a wide variety of plants and flowers, including things like cacti which I would not think would thrive in such a wet and cold environment, even if they are moved indoors for part of the year (as this sign indicates).
And, the flowers are largely still in bloom even though the temperature has gotten into the 30s at night several times since I've been here.
There are also the largest lily pads I've ever seen. So large they don't look real-- but they are.
The gardens also grow food, which is all given to shelters, and hemp as well. This is my favorite sign in the gardens. I like how it subtly dissuades anyone from picking the hemp or taking seeds.
And, the world's friendliest ducks. People must feed them all the time, because they have no qualms about just walking up. We felt bad, so we fed them (or, my sister did. She gave them some protein bar.)
The Botanic Gardens are located on the River Cherwell, which is where the ducks were coming from. It also means that people punt along the Botanic Gardens.
This is apparently an essential Oxford (and Cambridge) activity-- but everything I read about it suggests it's really hard. And that it's really easy to fall in, which I can't imagine is a fun experience in the cold (and, while it's not really cold here, 50s isn't the weather I want to be soaked in. I'm guessing the water itself is quite cold.)
What I didn't get to see was the hothouse with the black flowers-- a couple of the hothouses were closed for maintenance. I've read about the black flowers-- but I've never seen any, so I had been excited to see them. I've been told that the Botanic Gardens are free starting sometime in October (maybe a lot of the plants die by then?), so I may have to go back just to see the black flowers. We did get to see the Insectivorous House with the plants that "eat" things.
It's a little hard to see, but these plants have mouths which are currently holding and drinking water.
From the Botanic Gardens, we went to the Museum of the History of Science which I have also been putting off going into. I don't think we were supposed to take pictures (it's unclear-- there were no signs specifically saying no photos, but no one was taking any) but I got really excited when I saw the display of Guglielmo Marconi's inventions. I read Erik Larson's Thunderstruck (it's a really good book) which is largely about the invention of the telegraph and in which Marconi is a major character, so when I saw the actual telegraph, I had to have a picture of it.
It's smaller than I imagined.
To continue the old world feel, when we went outside, there was a random horse drawn carriage going around.
I have no idea why; it's not a regular occurrence in Oxford. I had to leave my mom and sister to go teach my class (my first night of actually doing my "real" job). They went for tea and scones again at Vaults and Garden. I would be jealous, but it has occurred to me that I could have tea and scones there just about every day for another three months if I want.
For dinner, we went into Cowley, a neighborhood in Oxford known for its ethnic restaurants and eclectic stores. We ate at Verde, an Italian restaurant that had been recommended to me. Also really good (I haven't really had a bad meal since I've been here). There are endless Indian restaurants on Cowley Rd., but my mom doesn't like Indian food. I'm going to have to do some kind of Indian Restaurant tour while I'm here.
Oxford Again: Day 5 of Visit
We stayed in Oxford for a second day (mostly because I had to attend a course my students are all taking on Wednesday evenings so I can check in on them-- a part of my job exclusive to going to a foreign country with 24 other people) and went to the Museum of Natural History and the Pitt Rivers Museum (which is attached-- and unlike any museum any of us had ever been in). We also tried to go to The Real Tennis Courts at Merton College (the second tennis courts ever built, supposedly, though they aren't the modern tennis courts we think of) but despite a sign that said "Open" the door was locked. I will get there sometime though (it's starting to feel like the great tourist challenge of Oxford, at least for me).
The Natural History Museum in Oxford is probably the best one of its kind I've ever been in-- and I grew up going to the Smithsonian's Natural History Museum. It's really intimate and the displays are so well done. And, the building itself is gorgeous.
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And, you can touch stones that are millions and millions of years old.
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As fabulous as the natural history part is, it's Pitt Rivers that's truly amazing. It's a museum of anthropology and world archaeology. The photo doesn't do it justice.
That's from the second floor, looking down on the first.
This is looking head on at the first floor. I was trying to get a sense of how much stuff is in the museum, but I don't think a picture can do that, especially since many of the display cases are cabinets with drawers that can be pulled open and which hold even more stuff. You can do a virtual tour of the museum here http://www.prm.ox.ac.uk/virtualtour.html# (click on the red markers on the maps). It sort of gives a better sense of how packed the museum is, but it really has to be seen. We did find the tiniest doll in the world-- there are other things that guide books have mentioned that I didn't find like the copulating gingerbread dogs or the ballerina flies so I have reason to go back (it's the kind of place I would take anyone visiting me because it's unique and because it's one of the few places I could go to many times and not get bored in). There was an audio tour available which I may do in the future (which is probably overwhelming on its own since every display case has multiple audio offerings). And, there is an actual tour given by curators at assigned times which I'm going to have to do at some point.
What we never made it to was the Ashmolean which had also been on the agenda for the day but we ran out of time (and, honestly, the brain capacity to absorb another museum).
We had tea at a different tea room after the museums-- I've passed it several times because it's on High Street but I can't remember the name of it now. The scones were warm, but not freshly made. Still, anything with clotted cream on it is good. Here, when we told our waiter about how fabulous the Natural History and Pitt Rivers museum were, he told us we had to go to the Natural History Museum in London-- he talked it up a lot and also told us we would need at least 3 hours to really see it. So, we put it on our itinerary.
Because meeting my students at their British Heritage and Culture class took until after 7 and because it was cold and rainy, we went to a pizza place in my neighborhood-- also really good. It makes "artisan" personal pizzas. (I have leftovers which now that I'm writing about the pizza, I'm seriously considering heating up for lunch.)* It's not the best place to go when starving since all of it is made from scratch when ordered...but it's worth the wait.
London: Day 6 of Visit
In an attempt to maximize our two days in London, we got up super early to catch a bus into the city. Even with the best of intentions, we got a later start to our day than we wanted because after getting to our hotel, dropping our luggage, and setting off again, we got on the Piccadilly Line of the tube which came to a stop after a few stations and we were informed that the line was being shut down due to "a person under the train" at the Knightsbridge station. It's amazing how casually this was announced, as though a person under a train is a normal occurrence. I was thinking that in the US it would have made national news, and certainly been local news for days in whatever city the incident occurred in. But, there is is surprisingly little about it. I had found a news report that said the person had survived, but this story says there (http://www.london24.com/news/travel_update_piccadilly_line_delays_due_to_person_under_a_train_1_1531994#) was a death (which seems more likely because it's hard to imagine surviving being run-over by a train). It's a really short story-- and as much as I Google it, I can't find much more about what happened. Everyone was so casual about it too-- I feel like my sister, mom and I were the only ones who thought it was shocking.
Despite a person being under the train (as it was called all day), the Tube runs amazingly well. I was thinking that in DC, if there was a problem on a particular line, that would pretty much be it for the day-- there aren't many options for going around. But, there are always multiple options for how to get somewhere on the London Tube, so we regrouped and took a different route to Leicester Square to buy half price tickets to a show. And, from there went to the more interesting Trafalgar Square.
Oxford: Day 1 of Visit
My mom and sister got of the plane really jet lagged having not slept for quite a while, and yet, since it's best to push through and try and get on the time of country, I dragged them all over Oxford on a walking tour. We really didn't go in anywhere except Vaults and Garden Cafe, a restaurant in the shadow the Bodleian that I've been wanting to go to.
We had tea there-- we had tea everywhere, every day but one. Spoiler alert: this is the best tea we had all week. It's not so much the tea itself (the actual best tea is at Hathaway's) but because the restaurant makes scones to order, so they are always hot. Clotted cream melts nicely on hot scones; clotted cream has become my new favorite condiment. I've never really looked for it in the US, so I don't know how easy it is to find, but I'm guessing I'm going to go through some withdrawal when I get back. It's much better than butter. When we through the tea overboard in Boston, we really should have had the foresight to keep the clotted cream-- if those in the Boston Tea Party really knew (or remembered-- I'm not sure when clotted cream was first "invented") how yummy it was, I don't think they would have objected to the whole taxation thing so vehemently.
Vaults and Garden Cafe is in the "Old Congregation House" of Oxford University, so sitting inside or out, it's really lovely. We sat inside-- though I get the feeling it's not really cold for Oxford (a thought which makes me wonder how miserable I'm going to be come December), it was hot in DC where my mom and sister left from and they hadn't acclimated yet, so they thought it was really cold. (Any picture of my mom is her really bundled up-- but I swear Oxford, or England in general, is not the arctic.)
Stratford-Upon-Avon: Day 2 of Visit
The second day was my first experience with the rail system in England. It's pretty efficient-- though, since we went to Stratford on a Sunday we had limited options for train times.
This meant we didn't get to do nearly as much as we would have liked because we had 3 pm tickets to see a play and the first train out of Oxford was at about 10:45 am. I may have to go back-- we bought tickets to see many of the Shakespeare sights and only got to go through the welcome center and his birthplace. We missed Nash's House (his grandaughter's house), New Place (the house he retired in), and Hall's Croft (his daughter's house) which are all located pretty close to where we are. (We also missed Anne Hathaway's Cottage and Mary Arden's Farm-- those are "hikes" outside of Stratford proper though.)
Shakespeare's birthplace is fascinating-- and quite cute. The gardens are gorgeous. (All the outdoor pictures have umbrellas-- it never stopped raining. We pushed on anyway.)
There are lots of "markers" that demonstrate how wealthy a family Shakespeare came from-- the most fascinating is the bed in the drawing room.
The last one is my favorite-- I like that there is a room that replicated the slaughtering of animals just to be very clear about what the room is for.
After touring Shakespeare's birthplace (and, walking around in the rain for quite a while), it was time for tea, this time at Hathaway's Tea House.
The sandwiches were really good-- I don't know why people don't appreciate cucumber sandwiches more. I've even seen commercials here that poke fun at the cucumber sandwich, but I think they're really good. I think it's all in the mayonnaise used (I'm not a big fan of mayonnaise-- but whatever this was was flavored really well. It wasn't just plain mayonnaise.)
There was a food festival going on in Stratford when we were there-- it's too bad it was raining so hard because the food looked amazing. But it was all outdoors and so there weren't many people at it-- it didn't seem like much fun to sit in the cold rain and eat. We also didn't have much time to browse the food stands nor the farmers' market set up right outside the Royal Shakespeare Theater because we had tickets to Comedy of Errors. I tried to take a picture of the stage before the show started-- the company is doing a trilogy of shipwreck plays, so there's a tank of water of that runs under the first portion of the stage and is filled with "artifacts" found in the sea. But, it's not well lit before the show starts so the picture really didn't come out. (That and there were a lot of people there-- they blocked the shot.) The production was amazing! I've seen both great and awful productions of Shakespeare-- this might have been the best. Comedy of Errors isn't a play I'm familiar with-- it's never assigned to be read in schools and I honestly can't remember even seeing a performance of it advertised. So, I'm totally unfamiliar with it-- but it was so easy to understand (not that I really struggle with Shakespeare, but I was a little worried that the actors' accents would throw me, but only one did. And he was a minor role.) It's a hilarious play-- I don't know why it isn't performed more often. And, having toured the small museum and Shakespeare's birthplace, I do now understand his obsession with certain themes more (like twins- he had twins, one of whom died. His twin plays are likely inspired by his "fantasy" that his second child is lost and separated, not dead.)
Like everywhere, shops and restaurants close early on Sundays, so we just headed back to the train station after the play and got back to Oxford in time to eat dinner, once again at a place near my flat-- a Chinese restaurant named Yummy. It seems like a precarious name for any restaurant-- that sets up quite a few expectations. But it lived up to it's name-- the wonton soup and chicken and cashew were particularly good. (Turns out in comparison to English tea, Chinese tea is very weak. I think English tea may have ruined ordering tea in a Chinese restaurant for me.) And, we made it home in time to watch Downton Abbey, season 3, episode 2 (which I'm still not writing about-- but it's driving me crazy not to be able to talk about it.)
Bath (revisited): Day 3 of Visit
This was all starting to feel like a whirlwind, even by day three, especially since we were getting up early and getting home late in an attempt to take full advantage of anything and everything we could (I'm still stuck in some weird limbo between living here and being a tourist here-- and I don't think that's actually going to change while I'm here. Four months leaves with some status I'm not sure there's a name for since it doesn't make me either tourist or resident.). There are more trains during the week though, so we didn't quite have to time the schedule as precisely to get to Bath on a Monday as we did to get to Stratford on Sunday.
The first thing we did when we got to Bath was stop for tea (or, really a tea kind of setting with hot chocolate. Bath has the best hot chocolate ever-- I may have mentioned this before, but it's worth mentioning again. And, this time, I had people to share it with. I kept trying to encourage my students to get the hot chocolate the first time I was there, but they kept opting for coffee drinks. I totally understood the desire for the caffeine boost, but I really needed someone to exclaim about the amazing hot chocolate with me. It was validating to have my mom and sister go.)
There is also a tea pot there-- my mom had tea while my sister and I had one milk chocolate and one dark chocolate drink. (I still have yet to try the chili chocolate, which may be a reason to go back to Bath-- though I feel like I've pretty much seen all the tourist sites.)
We went to the Roman Baths, which I'd already been to but which were equally amazing the second time around (this is a picture from my first visit-- my mom and sister took most of the pictures this time around).
And, I got to see stuff I missed the first time (we had limited time and it was much more crowded the first time I went), like the display of jewels (though, really jewels by ancient standards, not modern ones) that were found in the baths during excavations. The hot water probably melted the glue holding them in. A lot of it was amber (which isn't really a "jewel" now)-- but it was very cool because there were engravings in the amber, even in really small stones. And, I listened to the Bill Bryson commentary when I was going through-- there's not as much "history" in those comments, but it does highlight what can be imagined about the lives of those who built and used the baths. I listened to some of the kids commentaries too-- they're really well done and include the voices of "characters" who populated the baths. I think I like the combination of those two when touring-- but no matter what, the amount of commentary can border on overwhelming (in a good way).
There were sites I wanted to see that I didn't get to the first time I was in Bath: the Fashion Museum, the Assembly Rooms and the Jane Austen Center. The Fashion Museum is again overwhelming with it's commentary, but it includes a really nice range of "costume" from around the early 18th century to the present and is divided by category, like sport.
Included in the display was also the first women's tennis outfit. I can't figure out where the ball pocket is. And, it seems like it would be really hot to run around in.
I was surprised that the sports apparel was what was on display at the front-- I was expecting more of the older fashions, like this:
It turns out to be a nice mixture (though a little hard to photograph since it's all behind glass). There is also a dress-up section. So we did.
My sister is in a child's outfit, which is probably what we all should have put on-- the adult clothing was really oversized. And very heavy. I don't know how they walked around in that all day, especially since we just put on the dresses without the petticoats and corsets (which would have added a lot of weight).
We also toured the Assembly Rooms.
These were social gathering rooms in Jane Austen's time (and before and after). It was where people went to promenade around in their fine clothing-- to see and be seen. The chandeliers are particularly impressive.
We also went to the Jane Austen Center. To be fair, I had been warned that it's not impressive-- and it lived up to that warning. There was a brief presentation about Jane's family and how the individual members contributed to her career and then a chance to tour the exhibit, which was ok, but not great. And pretty small, filled with stuff like this:
We went through it pretty quickly-- there just wasn't much to see that felt like it was Austen-y. For a place that really wants to claim Jane Austen as its own (even though the Center freely admits she wasn't too fond of Bath and preferred the country-- she wrote very little while residing in Bath but was quite prolific in the country), Bath is kind of unimpressive when it comes to exhibits about her. In the gift shop, there are lots of things to buy with images of Austen characters on them. Colin Firth is always the representation of Darcy-- it's his picture on everything. I don't know how to feel about that-- he is the image in my head when I think of Darcy, so I get it. However, I seriously doubt it's what Austen had in mind... and a late 20th century movie version of Darcy doesn't really feel historical.
We left Bath and got back to Oxford for dinner; I decided that my mom and sister had to have the quintessential Oxford pub experience, so we went to Turf Tavern, which would have been better if we hadn't been sitting right next to a couple who made out the entire time we were there. (And, I was the one who was made to keep interrupting them to ask things like if they were using their extra chair or if we could have their ketchup. At least I was the one seated with my back to them so I didn't have to watch the rather obscene display of "affection". We seemed to be the only ones disturbed by it though-- I'm starting to wonder if it's cultural.)
Oxford: Day 4 of Visit
I have been holding off doing some things in Oxford so that when people come to visit, I'm not bored. So, on day 4 we went to the Botanic Gardens and the Museum of the History of Science. The Botanic Gardens are stunning:
which is surprising when I think about it. It's cold and rainy here for a lot of the year-- and it was cold-ish and rainy for a lot of the time my mom and sister were here. And yet, there is a wide variety of plants and flowers, including things like cacti which I would not think would thrive in such a wet and cold environment, even if they are moved indoors for part of the year (as this sign indicates).
And, the flowers are largely still in bloom even though the temperature has gotten into the 30s at night several times since I've been here.
There are also the largest lily pads I've ever seen. So large they don't look real-- but they are.
The gardens also grow food, which is all given to shelters, and hemp as well. This is my favorite sign in the gardens. I like how it subtly dissuades anyone from picking the hemp or taking seeds.
And, the world's friendliest ducks. People must feed them all the time, because they have no qualms about just walking up. We felt bad, so we fed them (or, my sister did. She gave them some protein bar.)
This is apparently an essential Oxford (and Cambridge) activity-- but everything I read about it suggests it's really hard. And that it's really easy to fall in, which I can't imagine is a fun experience in the cold (and, while it's not really cold here, 50s isn't the weather I want to be soaked in. I'm guessing the water itself is quite cold.)
What I didn't get to see was the hothouse with the black flowers-- a couple of the hothouses were closed for maintenance. I've read about the black flowers-- but I've never seen any, so I had been excited to see them. I've been told that the Botanic Gardens are free starting sometime in October (maybe a lot of the plants die by then?), so I may have to go back just to see the black flowers. We did get to see the Insectivorous House with the plants that "eat" things.
From the Botanic Gardens, we went to the Museum of the History of Science which I have also been putting off going into. I don't think we were supposed to take pictures (it's unclear-- there were no signs specifically saying no photos, but no one was taking any) but I got really excited when I saw the display of Guglielmo Marconi's inventions. I read Erik Larson's Thunderstruck (it's a really good book) which is largely about the invention of the telegraph and in which Marconi is a major character, so when I saw the actual telegraph, I had to have a picture of it.
It's smaller than I imagined.
To continue the old world feel, when we went outside, there was a random horse drawn carriage going around.
I have no idea why; it's not a regular occurrence in Oxford. I had to leave my mom and sister to go teach my class (my first night of actually doing my "real" job). They went for tea and scones again at Vaults and Garden. I would be jealous, but it has occurred to me that I could have tea and scones there just about every day for another three months if I want.
For dinner, we went into Cowley, a neighborhood in Oxford known for its ethnic restaurants and eclectic stores. We ate at Verde, an Italian restaurant that had been recommended to me. Also really good (I haven't really had a bad meal since I've been here). There are endless Indian restaurants on Cowley Rd., but my mom doesn't like Indian food. I'm going to have to do some kind of Indian Restaurant tour while I'm here.
Oxford Again: Day 5 of Visit
We stayed in Oxford for a second day (mostly because I had to attend a course my students are all taking on Wednesday evenings so I can check in on them-- a part of my job exclusive to going to a foreign country with 24 other people) and went to the Museum of Natural History and the Pitt Rivers Museum (which is attached-- and unlike any museum any of us had ever been in). We also tried to go to The Real Tennis Courts at Merton College (the second tennis courts ever built, supposedly, though they aren't the modern tennis courts we think of) but despite a sign that said "Open" the door was locked. I will get there sometime though (it's starting to feel like the great tourist challenge of Oxford, at least for me).
The Natural History Museum in Oxford is probably the best one of its kind I've ever been in-- and I grew up going to the Smithsonian's Natural History Museum. It's really intimate and the displays are so well done. And, the building itself is gorgeous.
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And, you can touch stones that are millions and millions of years old.
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As fabulous as the natural history part is, it's Pitt Rivers that's truly amazing. It's a museum of anthropology and world archaeology. The photo doesn't do it justice.
What we never made it to was the Ashmolean which had also been on the agenda for the day but we ran out of time (and, honestly, the brain capacity to absorb another museum).
We had tea at a different tea room after the museums-- I've passed it several times because it's on High Street but I can't remember the name of it now. The scones were warm, but not freshly made. Still, anything with clotted cream on it is good. Here, when we told our waiter about how fabulous the Natural History and Pitt Rivers museum were, he told us we had to go to the Natural History Museum in London-- he talked it up a lot and also told us we would need at least 3 hours to really see it. So, we put it on our itinerary.
Because meeting my students at their British Heritage and Culture class took until after 7 and because it was cold and rainy, we went to a pizza place in my neighborhood-- also really good. It makes "artisan" personal pizzas. (I have leftovers which now that I'm writing about the pizza, I'm seriously considering heating up for lunch.)* It's not the best place to go when starving since all of it is made from scratch when ordered...but it's worth the wait.
London: Day 6 of Visit
In an attempt to maximize our two days in London, we got up super early to catch a bus into the city. Even with the best of intentions, we got a later start to our day than we wanted because after getting to our hotel, dropping our luggage, and setting off again, we got on the Piccadilly Line of the tube which came to a stop after a few stations and we were informed that the line was being shut down due to "a person under the train" at the Knightsbridge station. It's amazing how casually this was announced, as though a person under a train is a normal occurrence. I was thinking that in the US it would have made national news, and certainly been local news for days in whatever city the incident occurred in. But, there is is surprisingly little about it. I had found a news report that said the person had survived, but this story says there (http://www.london24.com/news/travel_update_piccadilly_line_delays_due_to_person_under_a_train_1_1531994#) was a death (which seems more likely because it's hard to imagine surviving being run-over by a train). It's a really short story-- and as much as I Google it, I can't find much more about what happened. Everyone was so casual about it too-- I feel like my sister, mom and I were the only ones who thought it was shocking.
Despite a person being under the train (as it was called all day), the Tube runs amazingly well. I was thinking that in DC, if there was a problem on a particular line, that would pretty much be it for the day-- there aren't many options for going around. But, there are always multiple options for how to get somewhere on the London Tube, so we regrouped and took a different route to Leicester Square to buy half price tickets to a show. And, from there went to the more interesting Trafalgar Square.
My sister and I climbed up on the monument which is located to the right in the above picture ( which was a huge feat (it's much harder than it looks--there are no real footholds) and then took our picture sitting on the stones because neither of us could actually get onto one of the lions (they are really slippery-- you can see them if you enlarge the second picture above).
From Trafalgar Square we walked down to Westminster Abbey, passing the Houses of Parliament and Downing Street (heavily guarded...) and, for me for a second time, the Household Calvary Museum. This time, however, there was a changing of the guard there, which is much better than the one at Buckingham Palace because you can get up close to it and actually see what's happening.
From Trafalgar Square we walked down to Westminster Abbey, passing the Houses of Parliament and Downing Street (heavily guarded...) and, for me for a second time, the Household Calvary Museum. This time, however, there was a changing of the guard there, which is much better than the one at Buckingham Palace because you can get up close to it and actually see what's happening.
We did go to Westminster Abbey after this--there are very few pictures however since photos aren't allowed to be taken in the actual Abbey. This is the courtyard view of the building.
What is amazing is the history that is simply demonstrated by all the tombs located there--many of the royalty who have ruled England are buried there and the audio guide gives a good description of why their tombs are placed where they are (and why they are grouped together) as well as why they are ornamented they way they are. There's also the Hall of Poets which is dedicated to just about everyone who has lived in England, published and died even though only some of they are actually buried in the Abbey.
There is gorgeous stained glass in the Abbey; however, all I could photograph was the stained glass in the Chapter Room. It's still impressive...it just pales in comparison to the windows we couldn't take pictures of.
It's really a good thing I've labeled all of my pictures of stained glass-- early on, one of my students had remarked that you could do nothing but make a scrapbook of stained glass in Great Britain and still have hundreds and hundreds of pictures and she's right. So much so that it kind of all starts to look the same after a while-- without labels on the pictures, I'd be hard pressed to remember where any of it actually from.
Westminster Abbey also claims to be home to the oldest door in Britain (how it would know this, I have no idea. But, I also don't know how one would disprove this claim.). It does look pretty old.
From Westminster Abbey, we walked to Buckingham Palace, where at least this time, since we were there when there was no changing of the guard happening, I could see the guards at the gate.
He did march some. I still like the Household Calvary Museum better-- there you can take pictures of yourself with the guards (I realize I'm going back in time with the day..).
We were going to take a tour of the Palace, but we couldn't get in (it was about 3:30 in the afternoon by the time we got there) and we were told we'd have to come back by 8:30 am the next day to stand in queue to hope to get tickets. We decided we'd rather see the Tower of London, so I have yet to go inside Buckingham Palace. (I haven't decided if I'm going to try-- it's expensive and clearly you have to get there really early in the day to get tickets... all of which leaves the chance that it could end up being disappointing given all the money and effort.) So, instead, we set off for Piccadilly Circus to try and find Fortnum and Mason which is supposed to be a more impressive department store than Harrod's-- it isn't easily spottable from the tube exit, however and we (especially me, I'll admit) were getting quite cranky from being hungry so we went to a different fancy place for tea (I've also forgotten the name of that place, though I could probably find it again pretty easily).
This tea came with both scones and cakes. The tart was especially good (my mom like the cheesecake a lot). And, we could choose from a variety of teas, so we each got a different one. And, we got to watch people across the street queue to get a book signed by Jessie J (a singer-- my sister knows who she is. I don't which apparently makes me quite out of touch.). They must have been standing in line for hours and hours. The new J.K. Rowling book was set to hit the stands the next day, so I wondering if there was going to be an equally long line the next day (probably not since I'm sure many people pre-ordered online).
We went and shopped the craft market in Piccadilly Circus (I bought a really cute hat-- I'm not much of a hat person, but given how chilly it is at night and the amount of wind, I'm guessing I'm going to really want one soon) and then set off to find Victoria Palace Theater to see Billy Elliot.
It was amazing-- though sometimes the accents were difficult to understand (more so than with Comedy of Errors, which was a little surprising).
Dinner night one in London was from Pret a Manger-- basically sandwiches we took to go and ate in our hotel room when we got back from the play. For take away sandwiches, they're pretty good. And, I discovered Thai red curry crisps which are excellent (and, like rhubarb yogurt, something we really need to start stocking in US grocery stores). We also had really good baklava from the small kebab storefront down the street from the hotel (had our hotel been closer to the city rather than on the outskirts near Heathrow-- chosen because my mom and sister had a really early morning flight out-- we could have stopped to have dinner there one day. The food smelled really good-- my sister and I came close to getting midnight kebabs instead of just baklava.)
London Day 2: Day 7 of Visit
After barely sleeping (the hotel we stayed in was really nice-- much better than I would have expected of a 2 star hotel chosen purely for its close proximity to a tube station and Heathrow-- but we had really loud and rude Italian teenagers staying on the same floor as us. They got in around 4 am and had to have woken everyone in the hotel.) we got up pretty early to have breakfast in the hotel (which stopped serving at 9 am) and set off for the Tower of London. We had big plans for the day, but we didn't quite anticipate how long it would take to do all of the Tower of London. It took about half the day to really see the whole thing-- well worth it though.
It's so big, it's really hard to get a picture of the whole thing from the outside-- I tried. And, it's impossible to get any kind of really inclusive picture from the inside. The photo below is facing (from right to left) Bloody Tower, Wakefield Tower and the Tower Bridge. You can also see the Wall of the Inmost Ward coming out from Wakefield Tower.
Bloody Tower has exhibits inside devoted to torture. Other towers have exhibits with different focuses, such as military history, where you can "play" with a variety of weapons and try on military garb.
To the left of the picture of my mom is a backpack weighted down with all the equipment a soldier carried in WWII-- it was virtually impossible to pick up. I can't imagine trying to carry it on my back and march. (It did bring to life "The Things They Carried" which I know is a Vietnam story written about Americans-- but it is centered on the weight of things being physically-- and emotionally-- carried in war and so this did give a real sense of that physicality.) (Also, I should note that I do mostly have pictures of my mom and sister on my camera-- because it's my camera. There are quite a few pictures of me-- they are just on my mom and sister's cameras which are now back in the US. I'll have to get them at a later date.)
We were going to walk across Tower Bridge, but by the time we were actually leaving Tower of London, it was raining and later in the day than we had planned and it would have taken a while to walk across. So, instead, we bought hot, sugared peanuts from the guy standing at the base of the bridge (they were so good-- they seriously rival the sugared almonds sold at fairs that I'm so fond of. They may even be better.) and set off to the Eye of London (a bit of an adventure because we got one stop away from the station where we needed to switch lines and were told that the tube would not be stopping at Embankment-- our stop-- because of a fire. It was more likely a mistakenly pulled fire alarm, but still meant we had to backtrack quite a bit to get to another place to switch to the line we needed. Again, it's a really efficient system and we never once waited more than a minute or two for a train, but these incidents that close down stations or whole lines do set a traveler back a bit.).
The Eye of London is an amazingly touristy thing to do-- but we were tourists in London, so we went. It's certainly the best view of Big Ben (which is actually no longer officially Big Ben-- it was renamed for the queen as part of the whole Diamond Jubilee thing. I don't the new name-- Elizabeth's Tower-- is sticking though. And, it hasn't yet been renamed in any guide books. I'm guessing very few tourists would know what Elizabeth's Tower is.) and the Houses of Parliament (the view is better than the photos which are a bit compromised by rain on the window of the car we were riding in).
What we really wanted to see and didn't was the Imperial War Museum. It's not actually that far from the Eye, but by the time we finished it was after 4 pm and the museum was going to close at 6 pm-- by the time we got there, it wouldn't have been worth it. So, instead, we set off for London's Natural History Museum (which-- as I wrote-- we were told we had to see). On the last Friday of every month, it's open until 10:30 pm, so we knew we would have time (the recommended minimum 3 hours) to explore. What we did not really factor in was how tired we were after two really filled days of walking and walking (There are a lot of stairs in the tube stations-- I should have mentioned this earlier. I always think of the Paris metro as stair-filled. It's been a decade since I've been in London and I had forgotten that it rivals the Paris metro, even with the escalators many tube stations now incorporate. This in addition to walking from station to site and from site to site, and from site to station. And, in addition to walking all of Oxford, Bath and Stratford-- hence why The Proclaimer's "I"m Gonna Be (500 Miles)" was running through my head by the end of this day. I really think that we came close to that 500 miles between the three of us.). So, I don't think we got as much out of the Museum of Natural History in London as we could. We certainly didn't spend even close to 3 hours there.
Fatigue was a factor. That said, I feel we were mislead by our waiter in Oxford-- the Museum of Natural History is London is perfectly nice. The building is gorgeous, both outside and in..
A close examination of the walls while walking demonstrates how intricate the building is.
But, for actual exhibits and overall feeling, I much prefer the one in Oxford. Oxford's museum is cozier and much better done. The exhibits are far better and much more accessible. The best exhibit (at least that we saw-- we didn't go to everything) was this T-Rex.
And it was entertaining, in part, because its movement scared the kids (I'm not sure if you can hear the kids' actual words, but several are refusing to walk down the ramp past it and are being coaxed by parents.). But, I wouldn't go back. I will, however, go back to Oxford's museum, either to take other visitors or by myself. I know I didn't see everything and it was the kind of place that makes me want to go explore it more. The London museum just felt like it was trying to prove it could make really big exhibits (to be fair, the picture below does not do justice to the size of this exhibit. In the back is a life size replica of a blue whale-- I couldn't get the whole thing in one picture. It is big-- the museum succeeds in demonstrating this. It's just, this museum does actually gives merit to the cliche that size isn't everything.).
We left the museum having gotten a sense of it-- we were all just exhausted by then. Still, we actually set off in search of a particular tapas restaurant the required getting back on the tube in the opposite direction of our hotel-- and we found it. El Pirata, which seems like it would be hard to find if the address hadn't been listed in a guide book and there hadn't been a decent map at the tube station, was very good. It's certainly the "fanciest" meal (i.e. most expensive) we had during my mom and sister's whole visit.** But, it did rival my favorite all time restaurant-- Jaleo, a tapas restaurant in DC. It didn't disappoint (unlike most tapas places other than Jaleo, which do). It was amazingly charming-- though there was a sign outside the ladies toilet that warned that the possession and use of drugs is illegal which does make one wonder. I haven't seen a sign like that anywhere else.
We went back to our hotel after dinner. My mom and sister had to be up at 4 am in order to get to the airport. Again, we all barely slept due to rude and loud Italian teens-- and my mom and sister did not make nearly the retaliation noise they were threatening to at 5 am when they left (which I kind of appreciated...). I caught the bus back to Oxford a few hours later.
And then, I slept much of the rest of the day away (and did laundry-- which is hours and hours of waiting anyway, if I stay home while it's being done). I loved having my mom and sister her-- and we did an amazing amount of stuff in a week (most of which was new to me too). But it's exhausting to travel like that. I'm kind of amazed I could even put it all together in any kind of coherent form for this blog-- and I have to say, this does feel more like a list of what we did than anything else (like vivid description or emotional/intellectual reactions) because it was something of tourist overload. I would do it again-- but I am also glad that I have longer here so that my time isn't about packing that much in all the time.
It did also still leave me with things to do like see the Ashmolean and Real Tennis Courts in Oxford, the Imperial War Museum in London as well as Wimbledon and the Harry Potter Universal tour (which I'm torn about). And, that's simply from the list of things my mom, sister and I didn't get to do in our whirlwind tour.
It's really a good thing I've labeled all of my pictures of stained glass-- early on, one of my students had remarked that you could do nothing but make a scrapbook of stained glass in Great Britain and still have hundreds and hundreds of pictures and she's right. So much so that it kind of all starts to look the same after a while-- without labels on the pictures, I'd be hard pressed to remember where any of it actually from.
Westminster Abbey also claims to be home to the oldest door in Britain (how it would know this, I have no idea. But, I also don't know how one would disprove this claim.). It does look pretty old.
From Westminster Abbey, we walked to Buckingham Palace, where at least this time, since we were there when there was no changing of the guard happening, I could see the guards at the gate.
He did march some. I still like the Household Calvary Museum better-- there you can take pictures of yourself with the guards (I realize I'm going back in time with the day..).
We were going to take a tour of the Palace, but we couldn't get in (it was about 3:30 in the afternoon by the time we got there) and we were told we'd have to come back by 8:30 am the next day to stand in queue to hope to get tickets. We decided we'd rather see the Tower of London, so I have yet to go inside Buckingham Palace. (I haven't decided if I'm going to try-- it's expensive and clearly you have to get there really early in the day to get tickets... all of which leaves the chance that it could end up being disappointing given all the money and effort.) So, instead, we set off for Piccadilly Circus to try and find Fortnum and Mason which is supposed to be a more impressive department store than Harrod's-- it isn't easily spottable from the tube exit, however and we (especially me, I'll admit) were getting quite cranky from being hungry so we went to a different fancy place for tea (I've also forgotten the name of that place, though I could probably find it again pretty easily).
This tea came with both scones and cakes. The tart was especially good (my mom like the cheesecake a lot). And, we could choose from a variety of teas, so we each got a different one. And, we got to watch people across the street queue to get a book signed by Jessie J (a singer-- my sister knows who she is. I don't which apparently makes me quite out of touch.). They must have been standing in line for hours and hours. The new J.K. Rowling book was set to hit the stands the next day, so I wondering if there was going to be an equally long line the next day (probably not since I'm sure many people pre-ordered online).
We went and shopped the craft market in Piccadilly Circus (I bought a really cute hat-- I'm not much of a hat person, but given how chilly it is at night and the amount of wind, I'm guessing I'm going to really want one soon) and then set off to find Victoria Palace Theater to see Billy Elliot.
Dinner night one in London was from Pret a Manger-- basically sandwiches we took to go and ate in our hotel room when we got back from the play. For take away sandwiches, they're pretty good. And, I discovered Thai red curry crisps which are excellent (and, like rhubarb yogurt, something we really need to start stocking in US grocery stores). We also had really good baklava from the small kebab storefront down the street from the hotel (had our hotel been closer to the city rather than on the outskirts near Heathrow-- chosen because my mom and sister had a really early morning flight out-- we could have stopped to have dinner there one day. The food smelled really good-- my sister and I came close to getting midnight kebabs instead of just baklava.)
London Day 2: Day 7 of Visit
After barely sleeping (the hotel we stayed in was really nice-- much better than I would have expected of a 2 star hotel chosen purely for its close proximity to a tube station and Heathrow-- but we had really loud and rude Italian teenagers staying on the same floor as us. They got in around 4 am and had to have woken everyone in the hotel.) we got up pretty early to have breakfast in the hotel (which stopped serving at 9 am) and set off for the Tower of London. We had big plans for the day, but we didn't quite anticipate how long it would take to do all of the Tower of London. It took about half the day to really see the whole thing-- well worth it though.
It's so big, it's really hard to get a picture of the whole thing from the outside-- I tried. And, it's impossible to get any kind of really inclusive picture from the inside. The photo below is facing (from right to left) Bloody Tower, Wakefield Tower and the Tower Bridge. You can also see the Wall of the Inmost Ward coming out from Wakefield Tower.
Bloody Tower has exhibits inside devoted to torture. Other towers have exhibits with different focuses, such as military history, where you can "play" with a variety of weapons and try on military garb.
To the left of the picture of my mom is a backpack weighted down with all the equipment a soldier carried in WWII-- it was virtually impossible to pick up. I can't imagine trying to carry it on my back and march. (It did bring to life "The Things They Carried" which I know is a Vietnam story written about Americans-- but it is centered on the weight of things being physically-- and emotionally-- carried in war and so this did give a real sense of that physicality.) (Also, I should note that I do mostly have pictures of my mom and sister on my camera-- because it's my camera. There are quite a few pictures of me-- they are just on my mom and sister's cameras which are now back in the US. I'll have to get them at a later date.)
We were going to walk across Tower Bridge, but by the time we were actually leaving Tower of London, it was raining and later in the day than we had planned and it would have taken a while to walk across. So, instead, we bought hot, sugared peanuts from the guy standing at the base of the bridge (they were so good-- they seriously rival the sugared almonds sold at fairs that I'm so fond of. They may even be better.) and set off to the Eye of London (a bit of an adventure because we got one stop away from the station where we needed to switch lines and were told that the tube would not be stopping at Embankment-- our stop-- because of a fire. It was more likely a mistakenly pulled fire alarm, but still meant we had to backtrack quite a bit to get to another place to switch to the line we needed. Again, it's a really efficient system and we never once waited more than a minute or two for a train, but these incidents that close down stations or whole lines do set a traveler back a bit.).
The Eye of London is an amazingly touristy thing to do-- but we were tourists in London, so we went. It's certainly the best view of Big Ben (which is actually no longer officially Big Ben-- it was renamed for the queen as part of the whole Diamond Jubilee thing. I don't the new name-- Elizabeth's Tower-- is sticking though. And, it hasn't yet been renamed in any guide books. I'm guessing very few tourists would know what Elizabeth's Tower is.) and the Houses of Parliament (the view is better than the photos which are a bit compromised by rain on the window of the car we were riding in).
What we really wanted to see and didn't was the Imperial War Museum. It's not actually that far from the Eye, but by the time we finished it was after 4 pm and the museum was going to close at 6 pm-- by the time we got there, it wouldn't have been worth it. So, instead, we set off for London's Natural History Museum (which-- as I wrote-- we were told we had to see). On the last Friday of every month, it's open until 10:30 pm, so we knew we would have time (the recommended minimum 3 hours) to explore. What we did not really factor in was how tired we were after two really filled days of walking and walking (There are a lot of stairs in the tube stations-- I should have mentioned this earlier. I always think of the Paris metro as stair-filled. It's been a decade since I've been in London and I had forgotten that it rivals the Paris metro, even with the escalators many tube stations now incorporate. This in addition to walking from station to site and from site to site, and from site to station. And, in addition to walking all of Oxford, Bath and Stratford-- hence why The Proclaimer's "I"m Gonna Be (500 Miles)" was running through my head by the end of this day. I really think that we came close to that 500 miles between the three of us.). So, I don't think we got as much out of the Museum of Natural History in London as we could. We certainly didn't spend even close to 3 hours there.
Fatigue was a factor. That said, I feel we were mislead by our waiter in Oxford-- the Museum of Natural History is London is perfectly nice. The building is gorgeous, both outside and in..
A close examination of the walls while walking demonstrates how intricate the building is.
But, for actual exhibits and overall feeling, I much prefer the one in Oxford. Oxford's museum is cozier and much better done. The exhibits are far better and much more accessible. The best exhibit (at least that we saw-- we didn't go to everything) was this T-Rex.
And it was entertaining, in part, because its movement scared the kids (I'm not sure if you can hear the kids' actual words, but several are refusing to walk down the ramp past it and are being coaxed by parents.). But, I wouldn't go back. I will, however, go back to Oxford's museum, either to take other visitors or by myself. I know I didn't see everything and it was the kind of place that makes me want to go explore it more. The London museum just felt like it was trying to prove it could make really big exhibits (to be fair, the picture below does not do justice to the size of this exhibit. In the back is a life size replica of a blue whale-- I couldn't get the whole thing in one picture. It is big-- the museum succeeds in demonstrating this. It's just, this museum does actually gives merit to the cliche that size isn't everything.).
We left the museum having gotten a sense of it-- we were all just exhausted by then. Still, we actually set off in search of a particular tapas restaurant the required getting back on the tube in the opposite direction of our hotel-- and we found it. El Pirata, which seems like it would be hard to find if the address hadn't been listed in a guide book and there hadn't been a decent map at the tube station, was very good. It's certainly the "fanciest" meal (i.e. most expensive) we had during my mom and sister's whole visit.** But, it did rival my favorite all time restaurant-- Jaleo, a tapas restaurant in DC. It didn't disappoint (unlike most tapas places other than Jaleo, which do). It was amazingly charming-- though there was a sign outside the ladies toilet that warned that the possession and use of drugs is illegal which does make one wonder. I haven't seen a sign like that anywhere else.
We went back to our hotel after dinner. My mom and sister had to be up at 4 am in order to get to the airport. Again, we all barely slept due to rude and loud Italian teens-- and my mom and sister did not make nearly the retaliation noise they were threatening to at 5 am when they left (which I kind of appreciated...). I caught the bus back to Oxford a few hours later.
And then, I slept much of the rest of the day away (and did laundry-- which is hours and hours of waiting anyway, if I stay home while it's being done). I loved having my mom and sister her-- and we did an amazing amount of stuff in a week (most of which was new to me too). But it's exhausting to travel like that. I'm kind of amazed I could even put it all together in any kind of coherent form for this blog-- and I have to say, this does feel more like a list of what we did than anything else (like vivid description or emotional/intellectual reactions) because it was something of tourist overload. I would do it again-- but I am also glad that I have longer here so that my time isn't about packing that much in all the time.
It did also still leave me with things to do like see the Ashmolean and Real Tennis Courts in Oxford, the Imperial War Museum in London as well as Wimbledon and the Harry Potter Universal tour (which I'm torn about). And, that's simply from the list of things my mom, sister and I didn't get to do in our whirlwind tour.
*The leftover pizza was still really good even after being heated up a couple days later. I don't usually like reheated pizza-- I think crust generally loses something in reheating. But, this was still pretty much the same.
**It should be mentioned that my mom footed the bill for just about everything during this week. Thanks Mom!
**It should be mentioned that my mom footed the bill for just about everything during this week. Thanks Mom!
Friday, September 21, 2012
Thwarted at Every Turn...
The travel part of living abroad for 4 months is amazing; the living part is not always as easy or exciting. So, in an attempt to make it feel like I'm constantly doing exciting stuff (rather than just working and living-- kind of like what I do in the US), I've decided that every other day, I'm doing something touristy. Yesterday's touristy event was probably the least exciting yet, though. .
I went to seek out C.S. Lewis' grave and the church he attended (which is where the graveyard is). It was an expedition to seek out part of "literary Oxford"; I was expecting something more than what I found (don't ask why-- I don't know exactly why I thought this would be more exciting than it was. Maybe because every time I tell people where I'm living, they excitedly ask me if I know I live near C.S. Lewis' grave. They seem so excited about it... I thought it would be exciting.)
The church itself is pretty easy to find, especially since there are signs pointing down the path (walking only) to it. (I'm not sure it's as helpful to drivers...but maybe that's the point.) It's astounding to me how many churches there are around here-- the church and grave site are in Headington Quarry (also where the previously written about Mason's Arms pub is located) and not a very far walk from my flat, but I passed at least two other churches on my way. This one sort of looks like all the other small churches...
There is supposed to be a small gift shop inside the sells tea towels associated with Narnia, but I don't know where that would be. When I first got there, there was a small group of people who had obviously attended some kind of memorial service or other serious event (which made my rooting around for C.S. Lewis' grave a bit awkward since it's strange to be touristy around those who are legitimately in mourning), but after they left, I was alone at the church/in the graveyard.
I would have thought this would have been a more touristy attraction-- I don't really know why. And, clearly some people have come looking because there is a very small sign (which I found after about 10 minutes of wandering through the yard and looking at a map which provides information about C.S. Lewis as well as other known people buried there but is a pretty bad map) that says "C.S. Lewis grave" with an arrow pointing to the general area in which is he is buried, though not to the actual grave (I tried precisely following the arrow's direction which took me no where near the actual grave, so then I wandered some more). It's not obviously marked in any way.
His grave is the long, flat white one that I've positioned between the trees in this photo (it's close to the back tree). It took me quite a while to find-- I almost gave up. But, once I found it, I felt obliged to take a picture of the actual gravestone, mostly just to prove I'd found it since it doesn't really say anything remarkable on it.
I spent the rest of the day trying out small cafes in my neighborhood (lunch at one; cappuccino at another) and window shopping in charity stores. Charity stores are sort of like Goodwill in the US, but each store is associated with its own charity-- so some support hospices, some support different kinds of cancer research, etc. There are a surprising lot in my neighborhood. This seems to be charity store central.
But, all in all, not the best being a tourist day... though more successful than my "living" day the next day which started out really hopeful and ended with not a single thing actually going as planned. I had plans to go to the local tennis courts for a meet-up, drop-in group-- it was an event advertised on the website for local tennis leagues. It was easy enough to get to because it was being held in the park across the street from my flat (and, the weather was actually ok for tennis-- little cool, but not too bad). But, when I got there, no one else was there. I waited until a few minutes past when it was supposed to start and then left-- since it was in a public park at public tennis courts (so, no one works there), there was no one around to ask why no one was around. It was kind of dejecting-- I was really looking forward to playing tennis and hopefully meeting some nice people (who also like to play tennis) since developing a social life here is what is hardest about "living" abroad, especially since I'm here for a relatively short time.
Trying then to salvage the day and come up with something else to do where I could meet people, I headed out for a 1:15 yoga class being held on campus (I was thinking maybe other professors take yoga since this class met all summer when there were no students on campus)-- only to find out that the class had been canceled due to student inductions. What students were being inducted into or why this effected the yoga studio specifically is still unclear to me (especially since there were very few students around and they didn't seem to be headed to the studio area)-- but the end result was no yoga. (I sort of salvaged this by doing an hour of cardio, so the trip to campus wasn't a waste, but it wasn't the social opportunity I had been hoping for.)
The day itself was rather productive: I got the syllabus for the class I'm teaching finished (and it doesn't start for another 4 days!) and cleared up some administrative details with both my university and Oxford Brookes and there is still plenty of time to do a load of laundry (an all day ordeal each time I do one...but I'm getting more used to that) and clean the flat in anticipation of the arrival of my mom and sister. It's a good set of activities to do on what has now become a very rainy day. (And, it means another week of whirlwind touristy activities... with new people! Acting as tour guide might make me feel a bit more like a local...)
I went to seek out C.S. Lewis' grave and the church he attended (which is where the graveyard is). It was an expedition to seek out part of "literary Oxford"; I was expecting something more than what I found (don't ask why-- I don't know exactly why I thought this would be more exciting than it was. Maybe because every time I tell people where I'm living, they excitedly ask me if I know I live near C.S. Lewis' grave. They seem so excited about it... I thought it would be exciting.)
The church itself is pretty easy to find, especially since there are signs pointing down the path (walking only) to it. (I'm not sure it's as helpful to drivers...but maybe that's the point.) It's astounding to me how many churches there are around here-- the church and grave site are in Headington Quarry (also where the previously written about Mason's Arms pub is located) and not a very far walk from my flat, but I passed at least two other churches on my way. This one sort of looks like all the other small churches...
I would have thought this would have been a more touristy attraction-- I don't really know why. And, clearly some people have come looking because there is a very small sign (which I found after about 10 minutes of wandering through the yard and looking at a map which provides information about C.S. Lewis as well as other known people buried there but is a pretty bad map) that says "C.S. Lewis grave" with an arrow pointing to the general area in which is he is buried, though not to the actual grave (I tried precisely following the arrow's direction which took me no where near the actual grave, so then I wandered some more). It's not obviously marked in any way.
His grave is the long, flat white one that I've positioned between the trees in this photo (it's close to the back tree). It took me quite a while to find-- I almost gave up. But, once I found it, I felt obliged to take a picture of the actual gravestone, mostly just to prove I'd found it since it doesn't really say anything remarkable on it.
I spent the rest of the day trying out small cafes in my neighborhood (lunch at one; cappuccino at another) and window shopping in charity stores. Charity stores are sort of like Goodwill in the US, but each store is associated with its own charity-- so some support hospices, some support different kinds of cancer research, etc. There are a surprising lot in my neighborhood. This seems to be charity store central.
But, all in all, not the best being a tourist day... though more successful than my "living" day the next day which started out really hopeful and ended with not a single thing actually going as planned. I had plans to go to the local tennis courts for a meet-up, drop-in group-- it was an event advertised on the website for local tennis leagues. It was easy enough to get to because it was being held in the park across the street from my flat (and, the weather was actually ok for tennis-- little cool, but not too bad). But, when I got there, no one else was there. I waited until a few minutes past when it was supposed to start and then left-- since it was in a public park at public tennis courts (so, no one works there), there was no one around to ask why no one was around. It was kind of dejecting-- I was really looking forward to playing tennis and hopefully meeting some nice people (who also like to play tennis) since developing a social life here is what is hardest about "living" abroad, especially since I'm here for a relatively short time.
Trying then to salvage the day and come up with something else to do where I could meet people, I headed out for a 1:15 yoga class being held on campus (I was thinking maybe other professors take yoga since this class met all summer when there were no students on campus)-- only to find out that the class had been canceled due to student inductions. What students were being inducted into or why this effected the yoga studio specifically is still unclear to me (especially since there were very few students around and they didn't seem to be headed to the studio area)-- but the end result was no yoga. (I sort of salvaged this by doing an hour of cardio, so the trip to campus wasn't a waste, but it wasn't the social opportunity I had been hoping for.)
The day itself was rather productive: I got the syllabus for the class I'm teaching finished (and it doesn't start for another 4 days!) and cleared up some administrative details with both my university and Oxford Brookes and there is still plenty of time to do a load of laundry (an all day ordeal each time I do one...but I'm getting more used to that) and clean the flat in anticipation of the arrival of my mom and sister. It's a good set of activities to do on what has now become a very rainy day. (And, it means another week of whirlwind touristy activities... with new people! Acting as tour guide might make me feel a bit more like a local...)
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
A Long Walk on the River Thames
There is a way to get to the River Thames from Christ Church Meadow, but the path along the River isn't nearly as long, as far as I can tell. So, rather than simply go look at the River Thames, I started at St. Aldates Road (which does run along the Tom Clock side of Christ Church), where the Head of the River is.
Head of the River is a pub and also a hotel with 12 rooms. It's also located right next door to the place where boat tours of the Thames pick up as well pretty much on the walking path. (It is possible to pick up the path on the other side of the street and walk in the opposite direction that I did-- but no guide book discusses walking that way, so I assume that's for a reason.)
The walk along the Thames is scenic--there are lots of people running, walking dogs, and biking along most of it (I kept walking for a while... well past where others seem to go). There are boats of all kinds going up and down the river, people fishing, and rowing teams practicing. I saw the younger kids who are just learning practicing.
I'm assuming that in the next couple weeks, when the universities start up again, there will be more experienced teams out there. I wish I had my camera out in time to record them trying to turn around because that was funny. But, the videos give a sense of what they're doing. I wish the sound were better-- the way the one in the front calls out instructions is entertaining.
Head of the River is a pub and also a hotel with 12 rooms. It's also located right next door to the place where boat tours of the Thames pick up as well pretty much on the walking path. (It is possible to pick up the path on the other side of the street and walk in the opposite direction that I did-- but no guide book discusses walking that way, so I assume that's for a reason.)
The walk along the Thames is scenic--there are lots of people running, walking dogs, and biking along most of it (I kept walking for a while... well past where others seem to go). There are boats of all kinds going up and down the river, people fishing, and rowing teams practicing. I saw the younger kids who are just learning practicing.
I'm assuming that in the next couple weeks, when the universities start up again, there will be more experienced teams out there. I wish I had my camera out in time to record them trying to turn around because that was funny. But, the videos give a sense of what they're doing. I wish the sound were better-- the way the one in the front calls out instructions is entertaining.
Those are two different teams. There were also instructors who were on bikes on the bath yelling directions at them (I kept trying to get a picture of the guy who was the instructor for the team in the second video because he is one of the best looking people I've ever seen in real life, but he kept biking past me and it was hard to snap a photo on the move.).
Watching the teams practice was pretty early in my walk-- it became a bit more pastoral as I kept going.
There were a lot of horses in this one field-- I can't tell who they belonged to. I'm assuming one of the houses that I could see on the other side of the great expanse of field.
For a while, I was walking with a nice, older couple and their dog-- they were from outside Bristol and were staying in Oxford for a few days. They-- and everyone I passed-- kept commenting on what a beautiful day it was. And it was a nice day, but I've also noticed that there is some critical mass on comments about the weather because it's like one too many people comments on how it's a a lovely day and then it just starts raining. Which is what happened. I can't even say where it was coming from-- there were barely any clouds, but suddenly, rain. I'm not commenting on the nice weather anymore-- it's like a curse, just inviting the weather to turn.
There's this lovely scenery and the River Thames for quite a while until the Iffley Lock, which I came to while it was raining. If it weren't raining (and, if I had brought more than a breakfast oatmeal bar and water with me) it would be a really nice place for a picnic.
There was an older lock here-- this is the modern iteration. I'm not really sure what it's purpose is, but the actual lock was open when I went by, and then closed when I was returning, like this, so it's doing something. None of the signs actually explained what the lock was for-- the two that were there were a large map and a more focused map of the area.
I think most people either turn around here or cross the bridge (which I stood on to take the following picture)
and head into Iffley. I, however, kept walking. And walking. I kept expecting there to be some definitive landmark that would say to me, "turn around now" but it turns out that the path goes for quite a ways before that happens. Eventually, I did get to this gate.
I decided this was the sign I should turn around and head back (that, and I had walked about 5 miles at this point and so it's not like it was a quick jaunt back), even though there was an opening in the gate, so I could technically have gone through it. There's no clearly developed path beyond it, so I'm guessing very few people actually do walk past it. It's interestingly decorative for a gate that is pretty much in the middle of nowhere (and, I have no idea why it's curvy for part of it and then straight for the rest-- by this point, I was pretty much alone on the path, so there was no one to ask).
Right near the Iffley Lock is the Isis Farmhouse Tavern-- part of the reason I actually walked past the Iffley Lock was because the pub is supposed to be a hidden gem. I get the hidden part-- I can't imagine who goes there. It would have to be a gem to hike all the way out there for lunch (which is only served for 2 hours). And, by this point I was really hungry. But, I'm guessing because it's not the most popular lunch destination, now it's only open Thursday-Saturday; I would have had to wait several days for the good food and pint I was promised in my guide book (which did not mention limited days or times of service). When I got back to the lock, I did cross the bridge and start to walk into Iffley, sort of hoping there would be a pub, but instead I entered into a residential neighborhood located on a steep hill I was walking up (which wasn't appealing by this point), so I turned around pretty quickly. I did stop to snap a few pictures of houses-- they were kind of unusual looking. I like the roof on this one, especially since it seems to take up more space than the actual house it's on:
When I first walked up, there was this house, which is the Manor House. It was bigger than anything else I passed in the short distance I walked, so I'm guessing at one time, it really was the house where the people who ran the manor lived (purely a guess though-- again there was no one around and there were no signs).
I couldn't get the whole thing into a picture-- there's a pretty large retaining wall that goes along both sides of the road and I was backed against it to take that shot.
Having looked at a map since I've gotten back to my flat, I'm pretty sure had I kept walking up the hill, I would have eventually walked into the Cowley area, which does have tons of shops and restaurants (though most are on Cowley Road and I would have been walking on Iffley Road...). But I decided to play it safe and walk back the way I had come because at least I knew where I would end up, so I got back on the path along the River Thames and walked back to St. Aldates and then back to the city center to the Covered Market (finally--the breakfast oatmeal bar really wasn't enough food for walking 10 miles) for a late (I think it was after 3 by this point) lunch.
I knew there was supposed to be something upstairs at the Covered Market, but it took me a while to find the stairs to Georgina's-- now that I know where the stairs are, they'll be easy to find again, but it's the kind of thing that's hard to see if you don't know it's there. Georgina's is eclectic and cute (and pink). You can't tell from the picture, but the ceiling is covered in movie posters.
I had a beet, carrot, and hummus sandwich-- the special of the day and really yummy. Georgina's is definitely one of the healthier eating options in the Covered Market--maybe in the city center as whole (that I forewent having a milkshake from Moo Moos for lunch again was a total act of willpower, especially after I had circled the market several times trying to find the staircase.).
I went home from here-- my legs were really tired, even after sitting for lunch. What's nice now is that the bus schedule, some of which is dictated by whether the universities are in session or not, is off its vacation schedule and on the regular one which means the U1 (the bus I can ride for free with my pass) is running more often. I've had a lot of luck for the past couple days simply catching one (rather than having to sit at a stop and wait for 20+ minutes, which is what I've been doing for the past few weeks). It turns out that after walking 10 or more miles, a bus pulling up to the stop right as I arrive makes me really happy. (I'm wondering if it's like the weather though-- now that I've mentioned it, I've probably cursed myself and will have to spend lots of time waiting on the buses again.)
Watching the teams practice was pretty early in my walk-- it became a bit more pastoral as I kept going.
For a while, I was walking with a nice, older couple and their dog-- they were from outside Bristol and were staying in Oxford for a few days. They-- and everyone I passed-- kept commenting on what a beautiful day it was. And it was a nice day, but I've also noticed that there is some critical mass on comments about the weather because it's like one too many people comments on how it's a a lovely day and then it just starts raining. Which is what happened. I can't even say where it was coming from-- there were barely any clouds, but suddenly, rain. I'm not commenting on the nice weather anymore-- it's like a curse, just inviting the weather to turn.
There's this lovely scenery and the River Thames for quite a while until the Iffley Lock, which I came to while it was raining. If it weren't raining (and, if I had brought more than a breakfast oatmeal bar and water with me) it would be a really nice place for a picnic.
There was an older lock here-- this is the modern iteration. I'm not really sure what it's purpose is, but the actual lock was open when I went by, and then closed when I was returning, like this, so it's doing something. None of the signs actually explained what the lock was for-- the two that were there were a large map and a more focused map of the area.
and head into Iffley. I, however, kept walking. And walking. I kept expecting there to be some definitive landmark that would say to me, "turn around now" but it turns out that the path goes for quite a ways before that happens. Eventually, I did get to this gate.
I decided this was the sign I should turn around and head back (that, and I had walked about 5 miles at this point and so it's not like it was a quick jaunt back), even though there was an opening in the gate, so I could technically have gone through it. There's no clearly developed path beyond it, so I'm guessing very few people actually do walk past it. It's interestingly decorative for a gate that is pretty much in the middle of nowhere (and, I have no idea why it's curvy for part of it and then straight for the rest-- by this point, I was pretty much alone on the path, so there was no one to ask).
Right near the Iffley Lock is the Isis Farmhouse Tavern-- part of the reason I actually walked past the Iffley Lock was because the pub is supposed to be a hidden gem. I get the hidden part-- I can't imagine who goes there. It would have to be a gem to hike all the way out there for lunch (which is only served for 2 hours). And, by this point I was really hungry. But, I'm guessing because it's not the most popular lunch destination, now it's only open Thursday-Saturday; I would have had to wait several days for the good food and pint I was promised in my guide book (which did not mention limited days or times of service). When I got back to the lock, I did cross the bridge and start to walk into Iffley, sort of hoping there would be a pub, but instead I entered into a residential neighborhood located on a steep hill I was walking up (which wasn't appealing by this point), so I turned around pretty quickly. I did stop to snap a few pictures of houses-- they were kind of unusual looking. I like the roof on this one, especially since it seems to take up more space than the actual house it's on:
When I first walked up, there was this house, which is the Manor House. It was bigger than anything else I passed in the short distance I walked, so I'm guessing at one time, it really was the house where the people who ran the manor lived (purely a guess though-- again there was no one around and there were no signs).
I couldn't get the whole thing into a picture-- there's a pretty large retaining wall that goes along both sides of the road and I was backed against it to take that shot.
Having looked at a map since I've gotten back to my flat, I'm pretty sure had I kept walking up the hill, I would have eventually walked into the Cowley area, which does have tons of shops and restaurants (though most are on Cowley Road and I would have been walking on Iffley Road...). But I decided to play it safe and walk back the way I had come because at least I knew where I would end up, so I got back on the path along the River Thames and walked back to St. Aldates and then back to the city center to the Covered Market (finally--the breakfast oatmeal bar really wasn't enough food for walking 10 miles) for a late (I think it was after 3 by this point) lunch.
I knew there was supposed to be something upstairs at the Covered Market, but it took me a while to find the stairs to Georgina's-- now that I know where the stairs are, they'll be easy to find again, but it's the kind of thing that's hard to see if you don't know it's there. Georgina's is eclectic and cute (and pink). You can't tell from the picture, but the ceiling is covered in movie posters.
I had a beet, carrot, and hummus sandwich-- the special of the day and really yummy. Georgina's is definitely one of the healthier eating options in the Covered Market--maybe in the city center as whole (that I forewent having a milkshake from Moo Moos for lunch again was a total act of willpower, especially after I had circled the market several times trying to find the staircase.).
I went home from here-- my legs were really tired, even after sitting for lunch. What's nice now is that the bus schedule, some of which is dictated by whether the universities are in session or not, is off its vacation schedule and on the regular one which means the U1 (the bus I can ride for free with my pass) is running more often. I've had a lot of luck for the past couple days simply catching one (rather than having to sit at a stop and wait for 20+ minutes, which is what I've been doing for the past few weeks). It turns out that after walking 10 or more miles, a bus pulling up to the stop right as I arrive makes me really happy. (I'm wondering if it's like the weather though-- now that I've mentioned it, I've probably cursed myself and will have to spend lots of time waiting on the buses again.)
Monday, September 17, 2012
A Single (in multiple senses of the word) Girl Walks into a Pub...
and probably won't do that again. At least not this particular pub-- Mason's Arms. It's located in Headington Quarry which is an area in the "back" of the neighborhood I'm living in (it's also relatively close to C.S. Lewis' grave which I think I'm going to go hunt down later this week.) Mason's Arms is really cute from the outside:
and it's a neighborhood pub, clearly. Inside it's not quite as cute, but it does feel pub-like in a traditional sense. Everyone in there seemed to know each other and the bartenders (who, openly drink pints themselves). And, really, the people in there couldn't have been nicer to me-- I had a long conversation with one regular who was there with his dog (who as allowed to sit on the floor in the pub-- I'm assuming because this particular pub doesn't serve food [except bags of crisps] because I haven't seen dogs actually allowed inside other places here. They've been relegated to outdoor patios everywhere else. Either that or it's so far off the beaten path, no kind of health inspector ever checks.) In addition to telling me about his dog, we had a very long conversation about how much he likes all the CSI: franchises, especially CSI: Miami and how brilliant David Caruso is in the show (I disagree, but this didn't seem worth arguing about). Also a fan of the NCIS franchises as well. These are shows I never watch (having looked at the TV guide here, I could catch up on all of them while I'm here if I wanted-- they do seem to be on a lot.). Then, when I mentioned how much I love Downton Abbey, everyone near me scoffed-- they'd never seen it. I don't think it's that it's not a big deal here though; I think it's just not the kind of TV that appealed to this particular crowd.
In addition to regulars who know a lot about US produced crime dramas, Mason's Arms also has some really good beer-- they brew their own. I had one called Good Old Boy. It looks a lot like a nut brown, but is significantly hoppier. In addition to their own brews, they also have many others, including the "real" Budweiser (which is pronounced differently-- like the Czechs, who produce it, would say it)-- shipped not from the US but from the Czech Republic. I didn't try it-- I'm pretty sure it still constitutes "cheap" beer here (you can get a case of it pretty inexpensively in the grocery-- or so I was told as its virtues were being extolled). All of this, however, does not really make me want to trek back out there-- no one in there was really my age and I didn't really have anything in common with anyone. And, it did feel like the kind of place where the regulars own their bar stools because they are there everyday-- and I'm pretty sure it's the kind of place that only has regulars. It's really hard to find and it's tucked away pretty well (besides, while the neighborhood I live in feels really safe, there is the additional problem that the roads I had to walk down were pretty isolated, even though it was largely residential. I went around 6 so there was still daylight, but I don't know if I would want to walk home late at night from there. I'm sure it's safe, but I think I'd still be apprehensive.). As I was leaving, I did get asked out... by a shlubby guy in sweatpants and a flannel shirt that really looked like it hadn't been washed in a while who was probably old enough to be my father (at least) and clearly spends a lot of time on his corner bar stool. I politely declined giving him my phone number-- but, it was nice to be asked. I think I'm going to try hanging out at pubs more on the beaten path-- and on the main road to make walking home feel a bit more comfortable, so I think I'll be able to avoid any awkward run-ins.
That was the first half of my fun Saturday night out...from there, I went to Posh Fish, which is in Headington, a few blocks from my flat, and is rumored to be the best fish and chips in Oxford. The store front is noticeably bright and marked by a large fish.
This makes more sense than the shark house, which is on a side street a few more blocks down in Headington.
It's real. And permanent-- it's been there since 1986. It was commissioned by a guy named Bill Heine who I think if from Canada. He's become a local radio/media personality around Oxford and supposedly when through a long legal battle in order to keep his house feature. Eventually he won (I think no one could actually find a law prohibiting fake sharks diving through roofs)-- so now it's this well-known oddity in Headington (What I really want to know is if the shark head is poking through on the other side.
I haven't tried enough fish and chips to know if Posh Fish really does serve the best (it was pretty good)-- I know it has to be the largest portion. I took a picture of it spilled on a plate (second photo). It comes in a paper bag if ordered for take-away, but the bag doesn't do it justice.
I don't think the picture on the plate demonstrates how big this is either. It's hard to quite sense the enormity of the portion, especially the ridiculous amount of chips (and, I ordered the small). But, I had to throw about half the chips away-- and that was after I ate way more than I needed or even wanted.
Sunday, I continued my healthy eating by having a milkshake for lunch. It's not what I would normally have, but I had been trying to get to Moo Moos in the Covered Market for a while now (I've gone by a couple times but the line has been really long. I happened to catch it this past Sunday in a lull-- I got lucky. The line that formed right after I got there was winding.) It has the longest list of possible flavors I've seen. I took a picture of the paper menu. The menu is posted on the wall as well, but Moo Moos is a small stand squeezed into a narrow passage of the market, so I couldn't get enough distance to take a picture of the actual wall menu.
You can get the idea though. (It also has smoothies, but that menu isn't nearly as impressive. They sound really good and I'm going to go back for one, but there aren't nearly as many choices.) I had a carrot cake milkshake (again, I ordered a small-- this time a small really did seem reasonably like a small.). It was yummy.
I finished my Sunday by having some of my students over to watch the first episode of season 3 of Downton Abbey which I won't write about much here because I've promised several people in the States that I won't spoil it for them since I'm seeing it about 6 months before it airs in the US. I will say 1) the exchanges between Maggy Smith and Shirley Maclaine are fabulous and 2) it was really cool to be watching and know that I had just been in Highclere Castle and walked through--or, up to the roped off barriers of-- the rooms. There were several exterior shots and I kept thinking, "I have a picture of me standing there!" And, it was really nice to have people to watch Downton Abbey with-- I'm really glad the students are excited about it too.
I did try to go to the gym today to work off my weekend of truly terrible eating, but it was closed due to noxious paint fumes. I was able to pick up the class schedule for the coming semester which I was promised would have a lot more classes. And, it does-- but it has the same two-a-week yoga classes. So, I'm guessing yoga (like Greek yogurt) isn't quite the craze it is in the US. There are a few more Pilates offerings, so maybe that's more popular. I did, however, get a Living Social offer today for yoga classes offered at the Quaker Centre in the City Centre (curiously, there is Living Social here, but no Groupon), so maybe yoga just isn't popular on campus. Then again, only 12 people have bought the yoga package; I have no idea if that's because yoga isn't popular here, Living Social isn't popular here or if it's because the classes are still rather expensive, even with the deal (I don't think it's the cost though...it's 14 pounds for 4 two-hour classes which seems reasonable.). At any rate, I can't take them because they're only offered on Tuesdays and the class I'm teaching conflicts. It seems like it'll be easier to continue the unhealthy portion of my travels than the healthy ones... I've been promised the gym will be open tomorrow though.
In addition to regulars who know a lot about US produced crime dramas, Mason's Arms also has some really good beer-- they brew their own. I had one called Good Old Boy. It looks a lot like a nut brown, but is significantly hoppier. In addition to their own brews, they also have many others, including the "real" Budweiser (which is pronounced differently-- like the Czechs, who produce it, would say it)-- shipped not from the US but from the Czech Republic. I didn't try it-- I'm pretty sure it still constitutes "cheap" beer here (you can get a case of it pretty inexpensively in the grocery-- or so I was told as its virtues were being extolled). All of this, however, does not really make me want to trek back out there-- no one in there was really my age and I didn't really have anything in common with anyone. And, it did feel like the kind of place where the regulars own their bar stools because they are there everyday-- and I'm pretty sure it's the kind of place that only has regulars. It's really hard to find and it's tucked away pretty well (besides, while the neighborhood I live in feels really safe, there is the additional problem that the roads I had to walk down were pretty isolated, even though it was largely residential. I went around 6 so there was still daylight, but I don't know if I would want to walk home late at night from there. I'm sure it's safe, but I think I'd still be apprehensive.). As I was leaving, I did get asked out... by a shlubby guy in sweatpants and a flannel shirt that really looked like it hadn't been washed in a while who was probably old enough to be my father (at least) and clearly spends a lot of time on his corner bar stool. I politely declined giving him my phone number-- but, it was nice to be asked. I think I'm going to try hanging out at pubs more on the beaten path-- and on the main road to make walking home feel a bit more comfortable, so I think I'll be able to avoid any awkward run-ins.
That was the first half of my fun Saturday night out...from there, I went to Posh Fish, which is in Headington, a few blocks from my flat, and is rumored to be the best fish and chips in Oxford. The store front is noticeably bright and marked by a large fish.
This makes more sense than the shark house, which is on a side street a few more blocks down in Headington.
It's real. And permanent-- it's been there since 1986. It was commissioned by a guy named Bill Heine who I think if from Canada. He's become a local radio/media personality around Oxford and supposedly when through a long legal battle in order to keep his house feature. Eventually he won (I think no one could actually find a law prohibiting fake sharks diving through roofs)-- so now it's this well-known oddity in Headington (What I really want to know is if the shark head is poking through on the other side.
I haven't tried enough fish and chips to know if Posh Fish really does serve the best (it was pretty good)-- I know it has to be the largest portion. I took a picture of it spilled on a plate (second photo). It comes in a paper bag if ordered for take-away, but the bag doesn't do it justice.
I don't think the picture on the plate demonstrates how big this is either. It's hard to quite sense the enormity of the portion, especially the ridiculous amount of chips (and, I ordered the small). But, I had to throw about half the chips away-- and that was after I ate way more than I needed or even wanted.
Sunday, I continued my healthy eating by having a milkshake for lunch. It's not what I would normally have, but I had been trying to get to Moo Moos in the Covered Market for a while now (I've gone by a couple times but the line has been really long. I happened to catch it this past Sunday in a lull-- I got lucky. The line that formed right after I got there was winding.) It has the longest list of possible flavors I've seen. I took a picture of the paper menu. The menu is posted on the wall as well, but Moo Moos is a small stand squeezed into a narrow passage of the market, so I couldn't get enough distance to take a picture of the actual wall menu.
I finished my Sunday by having some of my students over to watch the first episode of season 3 of Downton Abbey which I won't write about much here because I've promised several people in the States that I won't spoil it for them since I'm seeing it about 6 months before it airs in the US. I will say 1) the exchanges between Maggy Smith and Shirley Maclaine are fabulous and 2) it was really cool to be watching and know that I had just been in Highclere Castle and walked through--or, up to the roped off barriers of-- the rooms. There were several exterior shots and I kept thinking, "I have a picture of me standing there!" And, it was really nice to have people to watch Downton Abbey with-- I'm really glad the students are excited about it too.
I did try to go to the gym today to work off my weekend of truly terrible eating, but it was closed due to noxious paint fumes. I was able to pick up the class schedule for the coming semester which I was promised would have a lot more classes. And, it does-- but it has the same two-a-week yoga classes. So, I'm guessing yoga (like Greek yogurt) isn't quite the craze it is in the US. There are a few more Pilates offerings, so maybe that's more popular. I did, however, get a Living Social offer today for yoga classes offered at the Quaker Centre in the City Centre (curiously, there is Living Social here, but no Groupon), so maybe yoga just isn't popular on campus. Then again, only 12 people have bought the yoga package; I have no idea if that's because yoga isn't popular here, Living Social isn't popular here or if it's because the classes are still rather expensive, even with the deal (I don't think it's the cost though...it's 14 pounds for 4 two-hour classes which seems reasonable.). At any rate, I can't take them because they're only offered on Tuesdays and the class I'm teaching conflicts. It seems like it'll be easier to continue the unhealthy portion of my travels than the healthy ones... I've been promised the gym will be open tomorrow though.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Bath, Ironbridge and Oxford ERs
Wednesday, we headed off to Bath, which was once the Social Center. Anyone who was anyone was seen in Bath-- as we know from Jane Austen (in addition to others). It's gorgeous-- and though we spent a whole day there, there was still lots we didn't get to see (and lots we did), so I would like to go back.
We started in the Bath Abbey-- it's hard to get a picture of the exterior from up close. It's actually more impressive when viewed from inside the Roman Baths (which I'll get to...but this is what it looks like from there-- the Abbey is the building in the background).
And, of course, the inside of Bath Abbey is beautiful-- we have yet to really go to a simple church, abbey or cathedral (and why would we-- except that it's hard to believe that every single place of worship in the UK is amazing and so I would like to know if there are some basic ones...)
I am getting a little tired of having pictures with people's heads in them-- or bodies-- obstructing the view. But, all of these places are such tourist attractions it's basically impossible to get unobstructed pictures-- someone always seems to walk in front of my shot right as I'm taking it. In a way, that is amazing itself. We were in Bath on a Wednesday-- in September when most schools have started back (universities in the UK don't start back for another week or so, but still... most everywhere else in the world, colleges have started up again) and these places were quite crowded. I am getting a little better at snapping pictures quite quickly (which is why some of them come out a bit oddly framed). I haven't decided which is better-- well framed and aligned photos with random strangers walking through them or quickly taken, slightly off ones which are relatively unobstructed. So, I have a collection of both.
The Roman Baths are incredible-- and the museum/site is really well done. We spent close to an hour and a half there and I didn't get to hear even half of the recordings about the different people who used to come there or the way in which the civilization developed around the bath (the museum provides a device to walk around with-- there is a wide variety of ways to listen to information about the baths including recordings produced specifically for children as well as a tour guide done by Bill Byrson, which I think I'll listen to if I go back. And, there's the audio tour produced by the museum-- in many languages.). Most of what I listened to was the information about what each part of the Bath was for. I need to go back just so I can get more of the history (it's a lot to absorb-- there really is so much information there). There are, of course, the iconic images of the Roman Baths which is the large pool that still has water in it (it really does bubble and steam, though I don't think you can tell from the pictures).
The iconic part is really only a small part of what's there. The inside of the museum is preserving the other parts of the baths.
These are other rooms people would make their way through on their way in or out of the baths as well as cornice pieces (the first of the three pictures) that decorated the baths. This doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what is at the museum-- though, it is hard to take pictures of the inside. And, even harder to remember exactly what each one is of (I can't-- and it's only been a few days since I took these).
From the Roman Baths, we went to lunch at a hospital-- but hospital in the sense of place of hospitality, not place to care for sick people (though, this hospital is now something of a home for the elderly, kind of like a retirement community for those who need some medical attention/assistance). It's St. John's Hospital-- the courtyard was really pretty.
And, it's again centuries old. From lunch, we walked around Bath's shopping area for a while-- I had the best hot chocolate ever at a small shop located right next to the abbey. It was like drinking a dark chocolate bar-- so good (and, admittedly, a small part of the reason I want to go back to Bath. There was a chili hot chocolate available and I want to try that. I seriously considered having a second hot chocolate while I was there-- it just seemed like that was too decadent or fattening or something.). Bath is sort of a small shopping mecca-- there is a variety of shops from the familiar clothing stores (like Banana Republic) to independent shops, lots of jewelry stores (some with really unusual pieces) and then a sort of open market (covered with a roof-- kind of like the covered market in Oxford, only not as nice) with a wide variety of interesting products and vendors selling what seemed like junk (like plug converters or pens). And, then the usual touristy shops--Bath is a giant tourist draw.
Bath is also a good example of architecture as it developed over the ages-- from the Roman Baths through about the 1800s. We took a sort of architectural tour of the city. We passed the Jane Austen Center as we went (I want to go back.)
The man is a real person. The statue of Jane is not. Then we visited the Queen's Circus (named for the shape, not because there were clowns in cars or elephants doing tricks).
You can see how it's built around a circle. Those are (were) all houses that faced into the circle. The we walked up to the Royal Crescent (there's a lot of stuff named for royalty-- it was an way to show loyalty and gain favor).
It, too, is sort of built around a circle-- but it's more of a half circle of houses, rather than a full one, so their view was nicer and made them feel like they were living on an estate.
The architectural details of the Queen's Circus and the Royal Crescent are also different, though you can't tell from the pictures. We also went into 1 Royal Crescent, which is a museum house set up to look like it would have in the 1800s. It was very cool-- but there were no pictures allowed. The kitchen was the most interesting room, especially since it contained a spit with a wheel (think hamster wheel) attached-- dogs were used to make the wheels go to turn the spit. There were also apparently devices like this for things like butter churning-- and any other activity that could be powered with a giant spinning wheel. (The informational guides also acknowledged that this historical information was likely to be shocking to dog lovers.)
I returned from Bath and took one of my students to the ER (minor injury-- all fine). There are no pictures of that either-- the emergency room in Oxford is as institutional and unattractive as any emergency room on the US. And, as slow when it's busy-- it took us about 2 hours from walking in to leaving, but I think those with broken bones who had to be seen by x-ray, etc. were there a lot longer. There was a sign that said the expected waiting time was three hours, so we actually got through pretty fast. As advertised by the NHS, we were seen for free-- no bill in sight (and, no way, really, for them to send us one later). I'm hoping that's my last trip to the ER, not just because I don't want anything happening to anyone that requires one, but also because it's not that much fun-- and the vending machines don't offer any good selections (I ate crisps-- potato chips-- out of desperation.).
Friday, we headed out to Ironbridge, which is just what it sounds like-- a bridge made of iron. It's the first one-- and its building heralds in the industrial age.
It's built over a gorge-- the view from Ironbridge is more attractive in a traditional sense than the bridge itself (though, the bridge really was a spectacular accomplishment when it was built in 1779).
The whole of the area-- which includes a lot of little towns all of which made up on industrial project-- is built on a really steep hill, which is why the houses are all built into the sides of the mountainous terrain (we didn't go into the church that is in the picture-- but I'm sure it's beautiful too).
From Ironbridge, we went downhill to Coalport (the town areas are basically named for their function--so, think port for coal) to see the China Museum. It's kind of amazing that in this area that was largely industrial, created around the production of iron and mining of coal, there were also people making these amazing pieces by hand.
It was all being created in workshops like this.
The museum also has demonstrations on site-- it's unusual because some of the artists work for the museum, but some of them both work for the museum and use the space as their own personal workshops (so, basically, they seem to be working on their own projects, but are also available to answer questions from guests walking through). We were all memorized by the woman making china flowers. It's amazing how quickly she can create one. She's creating a rose in this video.
We started in the Bath Abbey-- it's hard to get a picture of the exterior from up close. It's actually more impressive when viewed from inside the Roman Baths (which I'll get to...but this is what it looks like from there-- the Abbey is the building in the background).
And, of course, the inside of Bath Abbey is beautiful-- we have yet to really go to a simple church, abbey or cathedral (and why would we-- except that it's hard to believe that every single place of worship in the UK is amazing and so I would like to know if there are some basic ones...)
I am getting a little tired of having pictures with people's heads in them-- or bodies-- obstructing the view. But, all of these places are such tourist attractions it's basically impossible to get unobstructed pictures-- someone always seems to walk in front of my shot right as I'm taking it. In a way, that is amazing itself. We were in Bath on a Wednesday-- in September when most schools have started back (universities in the UK don't start back for another week or so, but still... most everywhere else in the world, colleges have started up again) and these places were quite crowded. I am getting a little better at snapping pictures quite quickly (which is why some of them come out a bit oddly framed). I haven't decided which is better-- well framed and aligned photos with random strangers walking through them or quickly taken, slightly off ones which are relatively unobstructed. So, I have a collection of both.
The Roman Baths are incredible-- and the museum/site is really well done. We spent close to an hour and a half there and I didn't get to hear even half of the recordings about the different people who used to come there or the way in which the civilization developed around the bath (the museum provides a device to walk around with-- there is a wide variety of ways to listen to information about the baths including recordings produced specifically for children as well as a tour guide done by Bill Byrson, which I think I'll listen to if I go back. And, there's the audio tour produced by the museum-- in many languages.). Most of what I listened to was the information about what each part of the Bath was for. I need to go back just so I can get more of the history (it's a lot to absorb-- there really is so much information there). There are, of course, the iconic images of the Roman Baths which is the large pool that still has water in it (it really does bubble and steam, though I don't think you can tell from the pictures).
The iconic part is really only a small part of what's there. The inside of the museum is preserving the other parts of the baths.
From the Roman Baths, we went to lunch at a hospital-- but hospital in the sense of place of hospitality, not place to care for sick people (though, this hospital is now something of a home for the elderly, kind of like a retirement community for those who need some medical attention/assistance). It's St. John's Hospital-- the courtyard was really pretty.
The man is a real person. The statue of Jane is not. Then we visited the Queen's Circus (named for the shape, not because there were clowns in cars or elephants doing tricks).
The architectural details of the Queen's Circus and the Royal Crescent are also different, though you can't tell from the pictures. We also went into 1 Royal Crescent, which is a museum house set up to look like it would have in the 1800s. It was very cool-- but there were no pictures allowed. The kitchen was the most interesting room, especially since it contained a spit with a wheel (think hamster wheel) attached-- dogs were used to make the wheels go to turn the spit. There were also apparently devices like this for things like butter churning-- and any other activity that could be powered with a giant spinning wheel. (The informational guides also acknowledged that this historical information was likely to be shocking to dog lovers.)
I returned from Bath and took one of my students to the ER (minor injury-- all fine). There are no pictures of that either-- the emergency room in Oxford is as institutional and unattractive as any emergency room on the US. And, as slow when it's busy-- it took us about 2 hours from walking in to leaving, but I think those with broken bones who had to be seen by x-ray, etc. were there a lot longer. There was a sign that said the expected waiting time was three hours, so we actually got through pretty fast. As advertised by the NHS, we were seen for free-- no bill in sight (and, no way, really, for them to send us one later). I'm hoping that's my last trip to the ER, not just because I don't want anything happening to anyone that requires one, but also because it's not that much fun-- and the vending machines don't offer any good selections (I ate crisps-- potato chips-- out of desperation.).
Friday, we headed out to Ironbridge, which is just what it sounds like-- a bridge made of iron. It's the first one-- and its building heralds in the industrial age.
The whole of the area-- which includes a lot of little towns all of which made up on industrial project-- is built on a really steep hill, which is why the houses are all built into the sides of the mountainous terrain (we didn't go into the church that is in the picture-- but I'm sure it's beautiful too).
From Ironbridge, we went downhill to Coalport (the town areas are basically named for their function--so, think port for coal) to see the China Museum. It's kind of amazing that in this area that was largely industrial, created around the production of iron and mining of coal, there were also people making these amazing pieces by hand.
It was all being created in workshops like this.
The museum also has demonstrations on site-- it's unusual because some of the artists work for the museum, but some of them both work for the museum and use the space as their own personal workshops (so, basically, they seem to be working on their own projects, but are also available to answer questions from guests walking through). We were all memorized by the woman making china flowers. It's amazing how quickly she can create one. She's creating a rose in this video.
She'd made all of these in a couple of hours.
From the China Museum, we headed up to Coalbrookdale to see the Museum of Iron, which is where all the iron was produced.
There were also more practical exhibits there, like stoves, both old and modern.
The ones on the left in the lower picture are Asa stoves-- they're modern even though they look old fashioned. I want one (I've been told they cost about 5000 pounds. I'm also starting to wish I had a pound symbol on my keyboard.).
After the museum, we went to the Darby house. The Darbys ran the iron factory for generations. They lived on a hill above the factory.
There was also a medicine chest encased in glass (which made it really hard to take a picture of-- it's got a lovely reflection of me in it).
It didn't come out in the picture, but all the bottles are labeled-- I wish it had come out because some are labeled as medicine and some are labeled as poison because, I guess, sometimes you want people to get better and other times you just want to finish them off. There was also a room filled with clothes of the times to play dress-up in. So, my students did.
+Coalbrookdale+3.jpg)
Thus ends the planned excursions en mass with the students (though certainly not the end of traveling around for me-- or them, I'm sure). So, I'm sort of back to the questions of "living" in Oxford (rather than being a tourist). That means making myself meals (we've been fed pretty well on all these excursion days) other than yogurt for breakfast (For those keeping up, I have tried a few new flavors. I'm not a big fan of hazelnut-- at least in that context. It just doesn't seem right as a yogurt flavor. I did finally find something other than plain Greek yogurt-- coconut. It's pretty good. I'm becoming partial to rhubarb flavored yogurt, which I'm pretty positive I'm going to have a hard time finding when I get back to the US-- we should get it there though. It's surprisingly good.). I'm trying to figure out how to make the heating work in my flat (it was in the 30s here Wednesday night-- and I was quite cold by the time I got back from the ER since I was dressed appropriately for the day, but not the nighttime since I was expecting to be back home by about 6.). The landlord's son came by-- apparently it's not that I don't know how to work the heat, it's that the heater in the living room doesn't work. (There is no central heating-- every room has an individual heater so that I just heat the room I'm in.) I think I'm getting a space heater for the living room (or, I guess, a working heater if someone can figure it out.). At least it's not just that I'm a dumb American who can't work a heater; it legitimately doesn't work (or, might be on a timer so that it only works at night...though I tried to turn it on after 9 pm on Wednesday, so I think it just doesn't work)-- so that makes me feel better. Instead, I just run the risk of being a difficult tenant (which somehow seems better).
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Downton Abbey!
Yesterday was the first day I think I behaved like a silly tourist-- it was a long day traveling from Oxford to Highclere Castle to Stonehenge to Salisbury and then back again. It was about 12 hours in total. But, that first site is the recognizable filming site for Downton Abbey (which I love-- the third season starts up here in about a week!).
I was so excited we were going, I took a picture through the coach window as we drove up (see what I mean about silly?). But, I did get a better picture of the outside...
Unfortunately, visitors aren't allowed to take pictures inside the house-- I was upset about this especially since the Earl and Countess and whoever else manages the tour have totally cashed in on the popularity of the TV show and have labeled the rooms where filming is done. So, had I been able to take pictures, I could have taken pictures of the entry hall where scenes like the big Christmas concert and Matthew and Mary's illicit kiss were; rooms like the bedrooms of Edith, Sybil and Cora Crawley; as well as the room where Turkish Embassy Attache Pamuk was found dead (he's the one minor character whose placement in the house is marked).
This was the first truly dreary weather day-- kind of what I imagined every day in the UK was going to be like, but it was still a shock when it wasn't 75 and sunny all day (and, I wasn't quite dressed for it because I didn't really believe that the weather was going to so drastically change in less than a day...I know better now, hopefully)-- so I didn't get many pictures of the gardens. It was hard to maneuver with an umbrella in one hand and my bag from the gift shop in the other (this is the first time I've even explored a gift shop--but I don't think I'll be back to Highclere castle again. It would be basically impossible to get there without a car. It's in the middle of nowhere and no train or bus goes to it.). Despite the rain, I got a couple of pictures in the gardens.
This is the Monk's Garden.
And this is the Secret Garden-- which isn't hard to find, so it's not a very well kept secret. The picture doesn't really do it justice-- it's gorgeous and very colorful. And, it would have been wonderful to walk around for hours if it hadn't been raining fairly hard by the time I got there. I did, however, brave getting wet in the rain to have a picture of me in front of Downton Abbey (sorry, Highclere Castle-- though unlike Christ's Church where people associated with the college seem rather snide about their association to Harry Potter and those who come there just for that, those at Highclere are clearly making the most of its association with popular culture, so I don't feel too badly for thinking of it as Downton) taken (if you look closely, you can also see I'm wearing sandals, which as the day progressed became a dumber and dumber choice of footwear).
What is interesting about Highclere Castle is that it does share much of the same important history that Downton Abbey has in the show, most notably that it really did act as a hospital during World War 1 and it was Lady Almina, the 5th countess (they're on the 8th now--she's written a book on Lady Almina) who converted it into a hospital. What's also interesting is that throughout the house are all the old furnishings and portraiture, and then on tables around the home are pictures of the current Earl and Countess and their kids and family, all in frames that look like they were bought from Target (or some like store since they don't seem to have Target here-- I think Tesco is the equivalent) and there are magazines like Marie Claire scattered about (in Edith's room, I believe). Nothing that belongs to the current family is hung on walls or somehow permanently affixed so that the pictures of the current family can be removed during filming. The portraits on the walls are all correct for the period-- you can see them as you're watching Downton Abbey since they all remain hanging during filming.
From Downton Abbey (right, Highclere Castle) we went to Stonehenge-- fortunately it had stopped raining since the only thing to do at Stonehenge (which is quite windy no matter the rest of the weather conditions) is to walk around the stones, counter-clockwise (I'm not sure why that's the way everyone walks) and look at the stones and the arrangement from various angles.
It's relatively easy to get unimpeded photos (unlike other places where there's no way to stop other wayward tourists from walking in front of the camera) since people keep moving fairly well. But, I did take one picture with people in it to give a sense of how much of a draw it is (you can also see the people in the background of the above photos).
This was the first truly dreary weather day-- kind of what I imagined every day in the UK was going to be like, but it was still a shock when it wasn't 75 and sunny all day (and, I wasn't quite dressed for it because I didn't really believe that the weather was going to so drastically change in less than a day...I know better now, hopefully)-- so I didn't get many pictures of the gardens. It was hard to maneuver with an umbrella in one hand and my bag from the gift shop in the other (this is the first time I've even explored a gift shop--but I don't think I'll be back to Highclere castle again. It would be basically impossible to get there without a car. It's in the middle of nowhere and no train or bus goes to it.). Despite the rain, I got a couple of pictures in the gardens.
This is the Monk's Garden.
And, that was on a miserable day (as you can tell from the sky)-- though people kept saying that it has been much windier at Stonehenge than it was when we were there, which is hard to imagine. (I did have one of my students take a picture of me at Stonehenge since, again, I don't think I'll be going back, but it's awful-- not her fault. It was so windy, I don't know that anyone got an attractive picture there.) Again, this is sort of in the middle of nowhere (though, easier to get to since it's such a longstanding tourist draw-- a new and bigger tourist center is currently being built)-- which does make the fact that these stones were brought here thousands of years ago really amazing, as is the fact that whoever did this managed to get the stones into the ground (1/3 of each standing stone is below ground) and lift the stones on top of one another (some of the stones weight as much as 3 elephants as our printed fun-facts guide told us).
From Stonehenge, we went to Salisbury, which I hopefully will get back to. It's a really cute town
It's remarkable because it was built in one continuous process, so the architecture is pretty consistent. There's a model of the way it was built, though it does make more sense in person.
Most other cathedrals were added onto over the years, so the architecture style changes as additions were made. It's also where one of the only four known copies of Magna Carta (no one ever says "the" in front of it) is housed (again, I wasn't allowed to take a picture). As important as it is that this Cathedral has one of four copies (and the best preserved one of those four), it's housed in a really dreary, plain room that's kind of dark. It's dark so that light doesn't ruin the document, but I'm not sure why the room itself is so plain-- it's housed in what was the Chapter Room where monks read chapters from books by/about saints, so maybe that's why it's so austere, but it's a stark contrast. Salisbury Cathedral proper is gorgeous .
Most interesting about them is that there are sculptures of the people entombed in them on top. This is William Longespee. He died in 1226. I only took the one picture (he's the one member of royalty entombed there-- you can tell he's royalty because his feet are propped on a lion). They're not really famous people...not ones I recognize anyway. We went to Evensong, mostly to hear the choir sing and to give the students that kind of experience. It was really nice-- my favorite part is that as part of the prayers which are sung, there is still a verse that asks G-d to save the monarchy and to encourage the royalty to hear the words of the people when they need the monarch (that's the spirit of the words, not the actual wording). Then we had dinner at a local college (with food that was much better than anything I was ever served when I was in college--or grad school) and drove back to Oxford.
I was dead tired, and still managed to get sucked into the US Open finals match and stayed up until 2:30 watching. I had to watch online-- I'm not even sure that it was being shown live here, but if it was, the channels I get on cable weren't showing it. (I think it was on the Sky network, which I think is what was streaming online; Sky network-- for which there are multiple channels, kind of like ESPN-- isn't part of the cable subscription I have.) I do want to see a print newspaper sometime today to see how big a deal it is that Murray won-- I'm not sure if it finished too late here to make the papers. Today is sort of a lazy day though-- I'm working up the energy to really clean the flat for the first time (instead of just wiping down surfaces like I do every day) and to go run errands.
It's the first really free day I've had in what feels like a while (though, probably only a little more than a week) and then starting tomorrow, it's back to the manic tourist pace and administrative stuff with students for another week. The fact that it's cold out (though not raining at the moment) -- usually as I blog, I sit at my kitchen table with the doors to the patio open so I can enjoy the weather, but I only lasted about 2 minutes with the doors open today before I decided I was delusional and should just admit that I'm cold and not enjoying the weather (as much as I love having the doors open)-- and that this is the first time I've had to really do nothing (even though I have stuff to do-- just not scheduled) is making me lazy. But, I guess that's how it would be if I were at home in this situation,so that kind of makes me feel like I'm really "living" here (even if living is defined as still being in my pajamas even though it's early afternoon here).
Sunday, September 9, 2012
When Being a Tourist is the Thing to Do...at least for a weekend
Because it's Sunday, sites opened later which was nice for me really-- I needed a morning to sleep in. I'm so excited to be going to all of these places, and going for free on a coach (any bus that leaves the city) that's been hired just for our group from High Point, but these are some early mornings and long days; I'm not a morning person and I have to get up earlier than I normally would so that I can catch the bus on time (the one downside to not having a car-- something I'm glad of because I really like public transportation and I think I'd be dead by now if I were actually driving around in Oxford, where drivers are crazy!-- is that I'm at the mercy of the bus schedule, specifically the Oxford Brookes U1 which is the bus I can ride for free which, since school is not yet in session, does not run very often). I had a list of things I wanted to see and I saw all but one-- I wanted to see Merton College, mostly because that college is supposed to have the first "real" tennis courts, which are not like the tennis courts we know now, but the ones that the first version of the game was played on. I missed the demonstrations of the game that were being performed on Saturday-- I was just hoping someone at the college would have let me go down to them today (I'm not sure I would have been allowed to though since the courts weren't listed as part of what was open.... I'm telling myself I wouldn't have gotten to see them.) I took way too many pictures (if it's possible to do such a thing), especially of Magdalen College which has to be the most gorgeous campus in the world.
There's a common misconception that Oxford University is an actual campus--it's not. It's the whole of the most of the colleges in Oxford. So, Magdalen College is one college that is a part of Oxford University. If you want to go to Oxford, you apply to both the university overall and the particular college you want to attend. (Personally, I would go to Magdalen College for the campus alone.)
The chapel entry was easier to photograph but the sunlight was posing the same kind of problem with the stained glass.
Next, I went to Queen's College-- prettier chapel, but the grounds weren't quite as impressive as Magdalen. Queen's College wasn't on my initial itinerary-- though I'm glad I went. I walked by it on my way to Christ's Church via the covered market (where I wanted to get a milkshake from Moo-Moos because I have yet to have one, but the line was really long). Christ's Church was only open from 2-4 today, so I had some time to kill on my way there. (All of this stuff is located really close. The whole of Oxford is really a college campus with shops and restaurants thrown in. Lots of shops and restaurants, to be fair.)
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The chapel was the real draw here-- it was easier to photograph the stained glass. There are fewer pictures-- the campus is smaller. There is a lovely back quad... in the background is the Bodleian which gives a sense of how close all these wonderful sites are to one another.
I got to Christ's Church right before 2, which happened to be really fortuitous because it turns out that it wasn't really just open-- bookings were required for tours, only two of which were being given, and that was the only way to get in for free. So, I was supposed to have a reservation (which I didn't realize-- I understood that I was supposed to book a space if I wanted a tour; I just mistakenly thought I would be allowed to enter and walk around on my own for free, which was not the case.). Instead, I walked up the man standing by the gate and asked if it was too late to join the tour. He said, "I don't know; ask him" and pointed to the tour guide and waived me through the gate. I walked up to the group that was just about to start the tour, stood there, and no one said anything. So, I went on the tour. I have no idea if I was supposed to have had a ticket, but since no one ever asked and the tour guide seemed to think I belonged there, I went along with it. (I figured I would plead being a dumb American if eventually someone demanded to see proof I had booked the tour... but there was never any need.)
That's the interior courtyard.
So, Christ's Church is a college; even though it does have quite a large church on site where Catholic residents of Oxford can attend services, it's primarily part of Oxford University.
Christ's Church internationally famous for two things: 1) It's where Lewis Carroll taught mathematics and many parts of the college and instructors who worked there are thought to be inspiration for Alice in Wonderland. (His photo hangs in the dining hall-- his real name was Charles Dodson.)
I got to Christ's Church right before 2, which happened to be really fortuitous because it turns out that it wasn't really just open-- bookings were required for tours, only two of which were being given, and that was the only way to get in for free. So, I was supposed to have a reservation (which I didn't realize-- I understood that I was supposed to book a space if I wanted a tour; I just mistakenly thought I would be allowed to enter and walk around on my own for free, which was not the case.). Instead, I walked up the man standing by the gate and asked if it was too late to join the tour. He said, "I don't know; ask him" and pointed to the tour guide and waived me through the gate. I walked up to the group that was just about to start the tour, stood there, and no one said anything. So, I went on the tour. I have no idea if I was supposed to have had a ticket, but since no one ever asked and the tour guide seemed to think I belonged there, I went along with it. (I figured I would plead being a dumb American if eventually someone demanded to see proof I had booked the tour... but there was never any need.)
That's the interior courtyard.
So, Christ's Church is a college; even though it does have quite a large church on site where Catholic residents of Oxford can attend services, it's primarily part of Oxford University.
Christ's Church internationally famous for two things: 1) It's where Lewis Carroll taught mathematics and many parts of the college and instructors who worked there are thought to be inspiration for Alice in Wonderland. (His photo hangs in the dining hall-- his real name was Charles Dodson.)
+Christs+Church+dining+hall.jpg)
And then, after working my way back out of the courtyard, it was after 3 and too late to set off for Merton College and the "real" tennis courts, so I ate a sandwich on the lawns in front of Christ's Church and headed to Carfax Tower (not a place where you check the history of your car, though I had to check the name just to make sure I had it right because all I can think of is the American association) to get a view of the city from above. It's 99 very narrow, and pretty dark (or I would have taken a picture) steps to the top. It's so narrow that you can't pass people-- if someone is trying to come down while you're going up, one of you has to back up (or down). The view from the top is lovely. The first one is a shot down High Street. Carfax Tower is at the top-- on most days, it's also the site from which you could buy a ticket for an open air bus tour around Oxford. It's really, really touristy-- but it was free to climb today and the view was worth doing something kitchy.
I have to say, this was a lot to do in just a few hours. I got myself an ice cream at D&Gs after the tower-- I've been told it's the best ice cream in Oxford. It was good-- it's my first ice cream in Oxford, so I can't say for sure if it's the best. It does allow customers to petition for ice cream flavors. Customers literally create a petition for a flavor and there is a book at the front of the store-- if enough people sign the petition, they'll make the flavor. I think there's a petition flavor or two a day. (Today's wasn't really interesting-- it was vanilla with chunks of some candy bar in it. There were some interesting ones in the book though.) And, I headed home.
Partially I'm so tired because we did a whirlwind tour of London yesterday-- seriously, less than 4 hours in the city. The idea was to take the students in and give them some sense of bearing so that they have a place to start when they go back on their own (and, they will. Or they should. It's about an hour by bus and perfectly doable as a day trip since the bus runs pretty much 24 hours a day.). Much of our time was spent at the changing of the guard, which in my mind was a waste of time. And, because the Paralympics were in its last couple days, and it's Open Doors in London as well, so, there were lots of tourists AND many, many streets were shut down for the marathon being run today, Buckingham Palace was a madhouse. It wasn't just me-- our guide declared the whole exercise a disaster. This wasn't my first time at the changing of the guard, though-- I didn't really like it much the first time either. And, here's why.
We happened to be crossing the street, across from Buckingham Palace (view below) when they returned, not playing. They were just walking back.
After the changing of the guard, we went to lunch at a cafe across the street from Westminster Abby, looked quickly at the outside of Westminster Abby (so quickly, that getting a decent photo was difficult)
and went around the block past parliament buildings (though, this photo is from afar, as we were walking to lunch. I like it best.).
We also walked past 10 Downing Street (heavily guarded, so you can't actually walk up to it) the War Museum and the Household Calvary Museum, with Calvary standing in front:
and a host of other places that we walked by so fast I hardly had time to take it all in. My mom and sister are coming in a couple weeks and we're spending a few days in London so I'm hoping to be able to soak it in more. It's been a decade since I've been to London and I don't remember it as well as I would have hoped I would.
All of this whirlwind touristing has meant that I'm not getting out to enjoy the nightlife as much as I would like to-- there's a pub near my flat that is supposed to be charming and well known for the beer it brews, and I've had the best intentions to go for three days, but by the end of the day, I can't imagine walking .7 miles to it nor having the energy to enjoy it. When we got back from London, though, Peter, who works at Brookes and is teaching the cultural and historical course all our students are taking, took me and a colleague from High Point to The Black Boy, which is tucked into a corner of Headington and really lovely.
It was a nice night, so we ate in the back garden.(And, then, I headed home, watched some TV-- Law and Order is on all the time in England as well, even when there's nothing else on-- and went to bed so I could get up this morning to run around like a tourist maniac.)
Ah--for all those wondering how the whole laundry thing turned out... it took three cycles to dry. I'm thinking the way to handle it in the future is to set the washing machine and dryer when I'm leaving (it's really loud) with the dryer setting set to no less than the hour and forty minute setting (which is how long it took to almost dry a few towels I washed-- almost). I did think these two-in-one machines were supposed to be more efficient and energy saving-- apparently all they are is efficient in a space saving way.
All of this whirlwind touristing has meant that I'm not getting out to enjoy the nightlife as much as I would like to-- there's a pub near my flat that is supposed to be charming and well known for the beer it brews, and I've had the best intentions to go for three days, but by the end of the day, I can't imagine walking .7 miles to it nor having the energy to enjoy it. When we got back from London, though, Peter, who works at Brookes and is teaching the cultural and historical course all our students are taking, took me and a colleague from High Point to The Black Boy, which is tucked into a corner of Headington and really lovely.
Ah--for all those wondering how the whole laundry thing turned out... it took three cycles to dry. I'm thinking the way to handle it in the future is to set the washing machine and dryer when I'm leaving (it's really loud) with the dryer setting set to no less than the hour and forty minute setting (which is how long it took to almost dry a few towels I washed-- almost). I did think these two-in-one machines were supposed to be more efficient and energy saving-- apparently all they are is efficient in a space saving way.
Friday, September 7, 2012
A Fleeting Moment of Feeling Like a Local...
which comes from standing at a bus stop for five hours waiting for the arriving students to arrive from various US starting points and answering questions from random strangers who are getting off the bus from London. So, Oxford Brookes has graduation in September, a couple weeks before classes start again. And, the stops which are the set down points for coaches coming from Heathrow are basically stops for any coach (a bus that runs intra-city). And it turns out, I know how to answer one question, which is how to get to the graduation events, mostly because I've walked through and around them for days now. So, my Thursday was spent sitting on a wall for five hours, waiting to greet my students and directing graduation traffic to Gypsy Lane. (I have no pictures of this particular campus-- there is a ton of construction being done and it's really unattractive at the moment. That said, the buildings that are on this campus and those being constructed are really kind of modern and functional, not at all attractive, so it's not particularly worth seeing). The fact that I knew how to direct those fresh off the coach from London and other places (question: "are you local," to which I said "no, I'm American and I've been here four days," thought about it a moment and asked what the man needed and then said something like, "oh, yay, I did know how to answer your question!" when I could point his party to the campus) made me feel for one moment like I may actually start feeling at home here soon.
Then, other things happen and the feeling of disorientation returns, though sometimes in a good, surprising way. Like, grocery shopping-- nothing is entirely different, and yet nothing is quite the same. For example, buying yogurt feels complicated-- it's all yogurt and I get that, but what I really want (since I keep having to rush out of my flat in the morning and don't have time to be an adventurous eater in the morning) is Greek yogurt in a variety of flavors. But, I don't think Greek yogurt is all the rage here the way it is in the US-- there are only a couple brands and really only plain or honey to choose from (I did see one offered in blueberry). By contrast, the regular yogurt offerings are numerous and come in flavor varieties we don't have in the US-- like timperley rhubarb and bramley apple and blackberry, as well as scottish raspberry (I have no idea how these might differ from other raspberries, but I will find out sometime in the next few days). So, I've gone back to non-Greek yogurt...but have interesting flavor choices in my future. (While Greek yogurt is not very popular here, Activia is-- there are more varieties in that brand name than I've ever seen, both in flavor and in the sort of digestive service the yogurt is supposed to provide. I didn't really check that out though...maybe next time.) And, then there's using the gym, which I did for the first time on Wednesday. The gym itself is packed-- not with people (I'm using the campus gym and the semester doesn't start for a couple of weeks), but with machines. The treadmills are pushed right up against one another-- no room to walk between them. Same with all the other cardio and weight machines. I chose to use an elliptical located at the edge of a bunch of machines, located right next to a circle of bikes (the bikes are placed in circles so 5 or 6 riders could ride facing one another-- which I guess is social) so that at least there wasn't anything crowded on one side of me. And, it was a cybex machine, which I know-- excitingly, it seemed to work like the ones I'm used to. So, I set it at 15, which is the setting I start at in the US. And then, I struggled. It was really hard-- and I was feeling terrible about myself for a while (and forcing myself to continue struggling because, really, it's only been about a week since I was last in a gym and there was no excuse for this), until about 35 minutes in when it finally occurred to me that 15 in the UK is indicative of kilograms, not the pounds I'm used to thinking in, so I had started at 35 pounds. It made me feel like a dumb American; it also made me feel pretty good about myself because it's amazing how many calories (which I assume are the same the world round) I burned starting with about 20 pounds more resistance than I'm used to.
The next week and a half of my life is a combination of being touristy as I go with the students on excursions and being the "adult" in charge. They were led on a brief tour of Oxford today, so I got to see some things I hadn't seen yet:
And this is the gate you would have to go through if you went around non-street side of Christ's Church to get to the large field to the left (and, not pictured since it just looks like grass) or to walk around to the front. These are some of the students going through it-- it was easier to film it rather than try to explain it.
I'm living a strange combination of tourist and resident. Tomorrow, we're all heading into London and doing quite touristy things like watching the changing of the guard (which I saw once about 10 years ago and was unimpressed with-- but, I've been told what I saw was a regular changing of the guard, not a ceremonial one, so maybe it won't be as boring as I'm expecting it to be), visiting the Tower of London and Westminster Abby, etc. Snapping photos, I'm sure-- though it's really a whirlwind, "get oriented" tour meant to feature some highlights and give a sense of the city's layout, so hopefully it won't go by so fast I don't know what I'm snapping pictures of. But, unlike a tourist, I come home to a flat, which I'm going to have to spend some time cleaning this weekend. And, hopefully, having a cup of coffee here:
which is the private garden in the back of my flat and my favorite "room." (There are chairs for the table- they are all stored in a box so they don't get wet when it rains.)
Currently, I am making my first attempt at laundry...it's one of those washer/dryer combos. On first try, my clothes have come out VERY hot and still wet. On the upside, I'm excited that they were clearly washed because I couldn't even tell if that was happening-- it doesn't seem to use much water and so it was hard to tell if I had set the wash cycle correctly. (My clothes do smell like the detergent, so I'm pretty sure soap made its way from the compartment into the machine which is also making me hopeful that I didn't mess this up completely.) On the downside, clothes that are so hot I can't even touch them which are still wet is not what I was going for. (The heat was set on the second lowest setting...so glad I didn't try to go for the real heat.) I'm now trying drying for a longer period of time at the lowest temperature setting... stay tuned to find out if I ever get dry clothes (and exciting and inviting reason to keep reading, I think!).
I'm living a strange combination of tourist and resident. Tomorrow, we're all heading into London and doing quite touristy things like watching the changing of the guard (which I saw once about 10 years ago and was unimpressed with-- but, I've been told what I saw was a regular changing of the guard, not a ceremonial one, so maybe it won't be as boring as I'm expecting it to be), visiting the Tower of London and Westminster Abby, etc. Snapping photos, I'm sure-- though it's really a whirlwind, "get oriented" tour meant to feature some highlights and give a sense of the city's layout, so hopefully it won't go by so fast I don't know what I'm snapping pictures of. But, unlike a tourist, I come home to a flat, which I'm going to have to spend some time cleaning this weekend. And, hopefully, having a cup of coffee here:
Currently, I am making my first attempt at laundry...it's one of those washer/dryer combos. On first try, my clothes have come out VERY hot and still wet. On the upside, I'm excited that they were clearly washed because I couldn't even tell if that was happening-- it doesn't seem to use much water and so it was hard to tell if I had set the wash cycle correctly. (My clothes do smell like the detergent, so I'm pretty sure soap made its way from the compartment into the machine which is also making me hopeful that I didn't mess this up completely.) On the downside, clothes that are so hot I can't even touch them which are still wet is not what I was going for. (The heat was set on the second lowest setting...so glad I didn't try to go for the real heat.) I'm now trying drying for a longer period of time at the lowest temperature setting... stay tuned to find out if I ever get dry clothes (and exciting and inviting reason to keep reading, I think!).
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Days of Doing Administrative Stuff...and the first beer tasting.
But again, at least I'm doing administrative type stuff on campuses that look like this:
That's Brookes University Harcourt Hill Campus, not the campus I'm primarily located on (pics of that to come later), but it's where I had to go to get things like my faculty ID. It's not quite like the campuses located in the city center:
(that's New College [I think]-- I'm sure it was "new" at some point). But Brookes is still charming. What I really have to take a picture of is the Sports Center at the Brookes Heading Campus-- I figured out how to register for a gym membership, and then when to tour the facilities. I've never seen so many machines packed into one space. It's hard to tell if it's simply that they don't want to waste space or if it's a really heavily utilized gym (the students haven't returned yet, so there was barely anyone in there)-- but when and if it's full, I'm betting it's hard to even move in there. But, even better, there's a cafe located in the same building-- with beer taps. It's a bit of a culture shock-- for one, it's a student dining area, which means students can drink pints at lunch (it was open when I arrived there yesterday-- sort of around 1:30, so I'm guessing it's open every day at lunch-- there's almost no one on campus for the next week or two, so I'm guessing if it's open when no one is around, it's open during the regular semester. That's all conjecture though.) and I'm just not used to seeing bars located in the middle of college campuses. Two, I don't think of bars as part of gym culture (except for protein shake bars...I don't think a protein shake was an available option)-- there's a certain appeal to it, except post-workout all I ever really want is water and more water. (And, pre-workout drinking seems really ill-advised-- at least for me.) Now, I have to figure out how to work going to the gym into my actual schedule.
There's a part of me that, given how beautiful the weather is here (not at all like what I would have expected-- everyone keeps telling me the summer was awful, cold, and rainy and this gorgeous sunny weather is an anomaly) thought rather than join a gym, I might just run in this park, Bury Knowles, which is across the street from my flat:
I love that there are animals carved into the benches). I think I may be being lured into a false sense of good weather... I'm trying not to get too used to it. It's a nice change from the US even-- when I left from Dulles, the temperature was close to 100. Low 70s and sunny here really is perfect.
I'm going to have to do some regular exercise, for may sanity mostly, and because I would like to spend more time in places like The Turf Tavern, which I went to last night and am now in love with. (I'll need to get better pictures later... it was getting dark when I took the few I did.)
That's Brookes University Harcourt Hill Campus, not the campus I'm primarily located on (pics of that to come later), but it's where I had to go to get things like my faculty ID. It's not quite like the campuses located in the city center:
(that's New College [I think]-- I'm sure it was "new" at some point). But Brookes is still charming. What I really have to take a picture of is the Sports Center at the Brookes Heading Campus-- I figured out how to register for a gym membership, and then when to tour the facilities. I've never seen so many machines packed into one space. It's hard to tell if it's simply that they don't want to waste space or if it's a really heavily utilized gym (the students haven't returned yet, so there was barely anyone in there)-- but when and if it's full, I'm betting it's hard to even move in there. But, even better, there's a cafe located in the same building-- with beer taps. It's a bit of a culture shock-- for one, it's a student dining area, which means students can drink pints at lunch (it was open when I arrived there yesterday-- sort of around 1:30, so I'm guessing it's open every day at lunch-- there's almost no one on campus for the next week or two, so I'm guessing if it's open when no one is around, it's open during the regular semester. That's all conjecture though.) and I'm just not used to seeing bars located in the middle of college campuses. Two, I don't think of bars as part of gym culture (except for protein shake bars...I don't think a protein shake was an available option)-- there's a certain appeal to it, except post-workout all I ever really want is water and more water. (And, pre-workout drinking seems really ill-advised-- at least for me.) Now, I have to figure out how to work going to the gym into my actual schedule.
There's a part of me that, given how beautiful the weather is here (not at all like what I would have expected-- everyone keeps telling me the summer was awful, cold, and rainy and this gorgeous sunny weather is an anomaly) thought rather than join a gym, I might just run in this park, Bury Knowles, which is across the street from my flat:
I love that there are animals carved into the benches). I think I may be being lured into a false sense of good weather... I'm trying not to get too used to it. It's a nice change from the US even-- when I left from Dulles, the temperature was close to 100. Low 70s and sunny here really is perfect.
I'm going to have to do some regular exercise, for may sanity mostly, and because I would like to spend more time in places like The Turf Tavern, which I went to last night and am now in love with. (I'll need to get better pictures later... it was getting dark when I took the few I did.)
I need to try more beer there (and other places...hence the need for a gym. I also need to avoid sounding like I'm an alcoholic.), mostly so I can discover what I actually like to drink here. Beer tastes really different here than it does in the US-- but it's hard to describe how it's different now that it's the next day and I don't have the beer in front of me anymore. I normally favor darker beers in the US, but the one dark beer I tried at The Turf Tavern was pretty sweet and probably my least favorite. Surprisingly, I think I liked the lightest colored beer best-- which actually seemed a bit heavier than the darkest one. I also tried what looked like it would be a red ale (I need to start writing the names of these things down... some of them have really great names) but was nothing like what I would expect a red ale to be. I think that's what's strange-- it's not that the beer isn't good. It is-- but it doesn't taste at all like what I would expect based on appearance. There's a beer festival (I think as part of Heritage Days) at a pub (that brews its own beer) in my neighborhood this weekend that I may try to go to (the weekend is a bit packed because all the High Point students arrive tomorrow )-- I'm wondering if the actual brewing process is different.
I also still need to try fish and chips here... (the whole gym thing seems more and more imperative, even considering how much walking I'm doing).
Monday, September 3, 2012
It's Harder to do Basic Things...
though at least when it's harder to do basic stuff that I would take for granted in the US, I'm doing it in a place that looks like this:
So, it's nice scenery as a backdrop to trying to do things like change the SIM card in my cell phone (which I should be calling a mobile)-- something which seemed basic but I'm honestly still not sure I understand how the plan I bought works. I'm pretty sure I bought a basic month-to-month plan that allows me minutes, texts and data in a pre-set quantity. And, that when they run out, I'm out of them until the end of the month when I can renew the plan. However, there are many ways to "top off" a mobile around here-- minutes, etc. can be added at ATMs, for example. So, I'm not sure if I can "top off" my mobile or not-- especially since the term seemed to be applied to both adding and to renewing. (I'm pretty sure that the plan I bought assumes I won't want to add to it...it's not a pay-as-you-go plan and the girl helping me said once I run out, I have to wait until I renew. Then again, it seems to me that it would be silly of Vodaphone to keep me from topping off if I really wanted to-- why wouldn't they want to make more money?)
It's also a lovely scenery to have around while fumbling to figure out how to pay for the bus-- I was given a pass that was supposed to let me ride as much as I wanted, but when I tried to use it, it turned out it was expired (I think it was probably good in August, but I tried to use it on September 2). But, that this card was given to me when I arrived and that I was assured it worked and that I've only been in Oxford for a little more than 24 hours and I'm really sorry that I didn't know (and, apparently the university people who gave me the card didn't know) that the card could expire or that is was expired felt like a lot to explain to the bus driver who seemed annoyed with me, especially when there was a line-- or rather, queue-- behind me waiting to get on, so I just how much it was to ride. Of course, that's not an easy question either-- it depends on where you're getting off. Fortunately, I seemed to get the answer to that question correct-- though I'm wondering if those who regularly ride the bus know the prices. I'm guessing those who regularly ride have pre-paid passes...it seems like everyone does because paying for individual, one-way destinations would get really expensive. (I will say, the bus driver was the first person I've come across who seemed annoyed with me... maybe he was just having a bad day.)
It's also lovely scenery being blocked by the setting up of some kind of fair:
I was told that this is the leftover nod to the old job fairs that used to be held in fall and spring-- seasonal workers used to have to look for indoor and then outdoor work respectively and there were fairs every year to help them. It's no longer a job fair though-- now it's just rides and games and what looked like typical amusement park food (like giant bags of cotton candy). It took asking several people to figure this out though-- even though this is being set up right off the main walking/shopping area in the City Center (a couple blocks away from this, an incredibly crowded pedestrian area where there are several musicians and street acts like fire eaters)
many people seemed unaware that it's happening at all. I didn't feel quite like a silly tourist asking since, suddenly, I knew about something that the people who live here didn't. The fact that I have to focus really hard when crossing the street so that I look the right way (which is, of course, the wrong way to me) puts me right back in silly tourist mode. (It also made the pedestrian area a nice moment of relief. It is a strange feeling to have to concentrate so hard just to walk without getting hit by a car.
What I had really dreamed of was "living" in Oxford-- feeling like this really is my home, if only for a little while, and sort of establishing a routine and a familiarity that makes it feel like I'm living here rather than having an extended touristy stay. But, the first couple of days have made me wonder if that's realistic-- I'm managing to do things like buy groceries and get a mobile (and, use the word mobile) but it is surprisingly more difficult than I would have expected in a country where I do speak the language, sort of. And, it's an absolutely gorgeous city to wander around in in a touristy manner (pulling out my camera every few feet probably screams tourist, too-- though I'm generally terrible about taking pictures, so I'm quite proud that I thought to take them yesterday.), so if that is the next four months of my life, that's still a really great way to spend my time. But, is four months enough time for a feeling of disorientation to end-- is it even enough time to start reflexively looking the "right" way when I cross the street? (I think the answer to that might be yes-- I was getting the hang of it a bit by the end of the day yesterday. Though, I got in a car last night and started to get in what I think of as the passenger's side, which is the driver's side here. It may take a while for the whole reverse direction thing to translate in my brain.) I'm wondering now if it's even enough time to be able to stop consulting a map every day before I leave my flat. (There's free WiFi just about everywhere-- having my iPad, and thus Google maps, with me was really helpful. It assured I got on the right bus-- so at least I didn't get lost. And it might save me from looking really touristy, pulling out a paper map everywhere I go...no one really knows what I'm looking at on an iPad. I'm hoping the data on my mobile doesn't run out before the end of the month-- I'm think GPS could be really useful too. And, maybe with headphones on, I'll just look like another person listening to music on my walk... to my next tourist destination.)
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Day One: Blowing out the Lights in my Flat
Whoever said that it's not the destination, it's the journey never road coach on a plane. And certainly didn't squeeze into a coach seat after being that girl in the airport trying to rearrange her luggage because her suitcase is "3 kilos too heavy and won't be allowed on the aircraft," a statement which first made me ask how many pounds are in a kilo (and wonder why kilos were the unit of measurement in Dulles airport, still in the US) and then made me fear for my ability to communicate across the pond when I can't even understand what a British Airways representative in the US means, all while I frantically grabbed anything heavy out of my checked suitcase and threw it in my carry-on (while wondering why I was doing this-- it wasn't so much the total weight was objectionable so much as the distribution of it which seems ridiculous. It was all going on the plane not matter what bag it went in. It made me feel better when the couple behind me had to open both their suitcases and start exchanging their possessions because one suitcase was too heavy and the other one had a few kilos to spare.). All this while others in line stepped over me and my stuff sprawled on the floor. All of which sounds like I'm starting off this journey complaining (which I am, a little)-- but not really since it only got better and easier once I landed in Heathrow. I apparently navigate airports better in foreign countries.
And, so, quite easily went through border control, bypassed customs, found the bus to Oxford, got off at the right stop and walked the block to my flat (trailing my large, now even more unevenly weighted luggage behind) where the landlord's son was waiting for me. I was very rapidly shown how everything works (stay tuned for my first laundry experience! I'm not sure I really understand the temperature settings for the dryer or which one I'm supposed to use and I don't think a guy in his early 20s, no matter the country, is always the right person to seek advice from about this) and then left to my apartment-- with my very lovely garden out back (I have had patio doors open all day to enjoy the gorgeous, sunny weather-- so unlike what I've heard about UK weather but I have the perfect apartment for a kind of indoor/outdoor living). So far, with the help of Peter from the Study Abroad office at Brookes (who also met me at the flat-- I should mention I've having trouble "saying" flat... it seems to be a sticking point in my usage of British English terms, which is why most of this post reads apartment), I've found the grocery store, sort of figured out buying groceries (Kashi has not made its way here... and I couldn't describe it very well. There was a lot of guessing about what products were closest to US counterparts, not so much because I don't enjoy trying new foods--I do-- but because it's really hard to cook when you don't know what you're cooking with) and seen a bit of my Headington neighborhood (pictures to come) which I plan to explore a whole lot more tomorrow. (I had big exploration plans for today, but jet lag got the best of my ambition...I think I would have been more motivated to push through if this were a short jaunt, but with four months here, I decided tomorrow, with some sleep, seemed like a better day to discover what my temporary home has in store.) I think I'm a bit a punchy at the moment.
Things I've learned today:
1) It's apparently absolutely ridiculous that a US Open Match scheduled for 1 pm doesn't begin warm-ups until 1:17. It seemed really offensive to the announcers on Eurosport (maybe because it was Andy Murray's match-- though it's not being broadcast.). (Also, Eurosport does not deviate AT ALL from the one court it's broadcasting-- there aren't even highlights from other courts. Did I mention I'm quite tired...I hit a wall of fatigue around 4 pm UK time and had to stop moving so I've seen a couple hours of the US Open. I unpacked and put everything I have with me away in organized fashion before I hit that wall though-- I thought I'd mention that just for my kewl wine women.)
2) Just about any bus in Oxford will go to the city center as part of its route (though, I'm sure there will be a day when I get on one that doesn't-- perhaps tomorrow).
3) There is a "night rate" for electricity-- so, right now, for example, my water heater is set to only heat water at night because electricity costs less in the evening (though, I can flip a different switch and heat water during the day if I need to). And, all the outlets have individual switches so they don't draw power if nothing is plugged in. There's a lot more concern for conserving energy-- not as much mandate on recycling though. I don't have a recycling bin and I'm not sure where I would take recyclables, especially since I don't have a car.
4) Electrical breaker boxes work the same in the UK as they do in the US-- which I learned when I flipped the switch to the kitchen track lights and the middle lightbulb blew, taking all the lights in the apartment (flat) with it. What's difficult is locating the breaker box (which was not part of my tour...because who would think I would inadvertently blow out all the lights in my first few hours here?)... in this case, it was in a tiny, locked space under the stairs to which I just happened to have a key. (I have a lot of keys for one small flat.)
I'm sure I've learned more in just a day...it'll come to me later. For now, I need to get on UK time so I can truly appreciate Headington and the Oxford city center tomorrow.
And, so, quite easily went through border control, bypassed customs, found the bus to Oxford, got off at the right stop and walked the block to my flat (trailing my large, now even more unevenly weighted luggage behind) where the landlord's son was waiting for me. I was very rapidly shown how everything works (stay tuned for my first laundry experience! I'm not sure I really understand the temperature settings for the dryer or which one I'm supposed to use and I don't think a guy in his early 20s, no matter the country, is always the right person to seek advice from about this) and then left to my apartment-- with my very lovely garden out back (I have had patio doors open all day to enjoy the gorgeous, sunny weather-- so unlike what I've heard about UK weather but I have the perfect apartment for a kind of indoor/outdoor living). So far, with the help of Peter from the Study Abroad office at Brookes (who also met me at the flat-- I should mention I've having trouble "saying" flat... it seems to be a sticking point in my usage of British English terms, which is why most of this post reads apartment), I've found the grocery store, sort of figured out buying groceries (Kashi has not made its way here... and I couldn't describe it very well. There was a lot of guessing about what products were closest to US counterparts, not so much because I don't enjoy trying new foods--I do-- but because it's really hard to cook when you don't know what you're cooking with) and seen a bit of my Headington neighborhood (pictures to come) which I plan to explore a whole lot more tomorrow. (I had big exploration plans for today, but jet lag got the best of my ambition...I think I would have been more motivated to push through if this were a short jaunt, but with four months here, I decided tomorrow, with some sleep, seemed like a better day to discover what my temporary home has in store.) I think I'm a bit a punchy at the moment.
Things I've learned today:
1) It's apparently absolutely ridiculous that a US Open Match scheduled for 1 pm doesn't begin warm-ups until 1:17. It seemed really offensive to the announcers on Eurosport (maybe because it was Andy Murray's match-- though it's not being broadcast.). (Also, Eurosport does not deviate AT ALL from the one court it's broadcasting-- there aren't even highlights from other courts. Did I mention I'm quite tired...I hit a wall of fatigue around 4 pm UK time and had to stop moving so I've seen a couple hours of the US Open. I unpacked and put everything I have with me away in organized fashion before I hit that wall though-- I thought I'd mention that just for my kewl wine women.)
2) Just about any bus in Oxford will go to the city center as part of its route (though, I'm sure there will be a day when I get on one that doesn't-- perhaps tomorrow).
3) There is a "night rate" for electricity-- so, right now, for example, my water heater is set to only heat water at night because electricity costs less in the evening (though, I can flip a different switch and heat water during the day if I need to). And, all the outlets have individual switches so they don't draw power if nothing is plugged in. There's a lot more concern for conserving energy-- not as much mandate on recycling though. I don't have a recycling bin and I'm not sure where I would take recyclables, especially since I don't have a car.
4) Electrical breaker boxes work the same in the UK as they do in the US-- which I learned when I flipped the switch to the kitchen track lights and the middle lightbulb blew, taking all the lights in the apartment (flat) with it. What's difficult is locating the breaker box (which was not part of my tour...because who would think I would inadvertently blow out all the lights in my first few hours here?)... in this case, it was in a tiny, locked space under the stairs to which I just happened to have a key. (I have a lot of keys for one small flat.)
I'm sure I've learned more in just a day...it'll come to me later. For now, I need to get on UK time so I can truly appreciate Headington and the Oxford city center tomorrow.
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