The Remains of the Trip

Way back in December, 2007, Delia at Beginning to Bird tagged me to reveal 7 random things about myself. Gee—haven’t I revealed enough?

Well, I promised to do so upon return from our trip to London. So, I decided as my final post on that trip to do the random things, AND relate them to the trip!

Here goes.

1) On this trip, my husband and I had our first-ever sit on the tarmac experience with a flight. Not that we mind having been missed in this pleasure, to now. When we were set to depart London, the pilot came on the public address system and said—we were set to take off, but there seems to be an equipment problem. (Oh, great! I just HATE equipment problem announcements). After a bit, he came back—seems the pressure in the oxygen tanks for the pilots’ cabin was dropping. . .not good. More time passed, then he came back on and said—we have two options: we can locate a new oxygen tank and install that OR we can locate a different plane and transfer all the passengers. GROAN. Well, the first option was picked; so, after a bit more delay, he came on and said—they replaced the tank, but there is still a leak. It seems to have been a valve somewhere in the system. Eventually, that was fixed, and we FINALLY took off. All told, we sat about 3 hours; then we had to endure the 8 hour flight home.



2) One evening while in London, we decided to go to Trafalgar Square. We had seen on the Internet, that there would be groups caroling in the Square. Sounded like fun. Well, at 5 p.m. (remember it gets dark around 4 p.m. in the winter), we gathered on the Square along with a crowd. And waited. No group. And waited—then after a bit, a rag-tag group of children and young people with a sprinkling of adults trooped out. They were decked out in quasi-Christmas costumes: you know, as shepherds or angels, or wise-men. They began singing. Frankly, they were woeful. But, there is something about Christmas caroling—it was just right for the moment. I love to sing. In fact, we all sang along, and then meandered off.




3) Although I read many blogs by people who are dedicated birders, I am not one myself. However, I was fascinated with the view out of the flat we were staying in. Here it is. PIGEONS. Seemingly hundreds of pigeons. They would swoop in, land, jostle, coo, then take off. Apparently, the occupant of the flat where these pigeons roosted fed them. Big mistake. . . that only draws more pigeons. So, while in London, I bird-watched!



4) It is impossible to pick out what I liked best about our trip—other than seeing our daughter and her fiancé—but one of the serendipitous parts of the visit was that almost anywhere we walked, we could see charming sights. For example, here is a building with a courtyard that we walked through. Isn’t it charming? I like serendipitous sights.








5) One day, we walked past an outdoor bazaar/ market. Now, for his own reasons, my husband LOVES these displays. What struck me was that the market was in the courtyard of St. James Church, Picadilly. Turns out the church was one of those designed by Sir Christopher Wren, and built in 1684. I love finding things historical—a church that is over 400 years old, standing on a site that has undergone many transformations (including being bombed during the Blitz in 1940), and still draws people in simply by being in the world.










6) Two of my favorite things that I love that I try to buy when I visit London: I love marmalade and tea. We went to Fortnum and Mason, where I found both of these items—and received a gentle caution to not buy too much; after all, we had not yet had Christmas. So, on Christmas Day, when I opened one of my gifts, I received a three jar set of marmalades. Yum.



7) My husband and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary on this trip—actually, the day we flew back. So, with London being 5 hours “ahead” of Eastern Standard time, we had our longest anniversary ever! (That was my husband’s idea).

There you have it, 7 random things about me, wrapped up in a final trip "report." And, as for tagging anyone else, I am so far behind in this endeavor, that I will eschew the tagging.

Fair Cambridge

One of the hymns that I grew up singing was “Jerusalem” whose lyrics derive from a poem by William Blake.

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the Holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark satanic mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.

This typically British hymn is built on the premise that Christ visited England during his adolescence. And it was used in one of my favorite movies, “Chariots of Fire” which derived its title from the second stanza.

Well, the connection here is that one of the featured runners in “Chariots of Fire” is Harold Abrahams, a student at Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge University.

While I certainly cannot claim to have seen all the places in England that I want to see, I have seen quite a few places. In addition to London, I have visited Bath, seen Stonehenge, seen Salisbury Cathedral. I have been to Blenheim Palace (where Winston Churchill was born, in what is really his ancestral home); I have visited Coventry and seen Coventry Cathedral. I have visited Stratford-on-Avon, twice. And I have visited Oxford University.

But I had never seen that other fabled English university, Cambridge. So, one of the places we visited during our recent trip was Cambridge. The day we traveled there was a cold and rainy day, and at first I thought that might ruin the visit. Not so. The various colleges at Cambridge were mostly deserted, so close to Christmas, and there certainly were very few tourists there. So, unlike Oxford which we had visited in the middle of summer while it was crawling with tourists, Cambridge was a lovely enchanting place.

Kings College Chapel, where the Christmas Eve service of Lessons and Carols takes place, had the BBC setting up for that service. My daughter and I went in quickly to peek around. One of the unique features of the chapel is the fan vaulting.

Other colleges had lovely quads, and interior lush lawns. St. Johns’ College has a replica of the Bridge of Sighs, in Venice.

One of the famous activities is punting—and even on the winter’s day we were there, there were tourists punting on the Cam.

Cambridge has many famous alums, including: Charles Darwin; John Milton; Jan Smuts; Sacha Baron-Cohen; Jane Goodall; John Cleese*; Graham Chapman*; David Frost; Samuel Taylor Coleridge; Alan Turing; Emma Thompson; William Wordsworth; Isaac Newton; Germaine Greer*; Sylvia Plath; CS Lewis.

What a lovely day we had.

Note 1: all photos here are from our day in Cambridge.

Note 2 *: on the off chance you missed the significance of these particular alum, Cambridge is where MONTY PYTHON got its start! Yes, Germaine Greer was one of those involved in the earliest comedy of the gang that eventually became Monty Python.

A Night at the Theatre

One of my Christmas gifts while we were in London was tickets to go to see the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of King Lear, with Ian McKellen* as Lear. As an English literature major in college, I have read and studied Shakespeare’s King Lear, but I had never seen it performed.

While I would be hard pressed to say which of Shakespeare’s tragedies is the greatest, there are many critics who feel that King Lear is the best. When I took a Shakespeare course in graduate school, I chose to concentrate on Anthony and Cleopatra, so I have always been partial to that play. But it is almost unstageable—so many scene changes. And, it doesn’t really seem to be so tragic a tragedy.

When I taught a survey of literature course recently, the text I used included Hamlet, so I had the students read that. Well, after a while, Hamlet himself gets a little tedious, and I feel like saying—oh, get on with it; do whatever you’re going to do and be done with it. But, Hamlet as a character has more lines of dialogue that almost any Shakespearean character (all those soliloquies!).

We saw King Lear in the New Theatre in London, which is arranged so that it is almost in the round. Our seats were quite close to the stage, so that throughout the play, we had a wonderful view of all the actions.

This production opens with a flourish of trumpets, and a wordless parade of the characters—King Lear resplendent in a red military uniform, followed by his daughters, their husbands, and other court dignitaries. An organ plays sonorous majestic music, and no words are spoken at all. The effect is of a kingly court, full of power and pomp.

When the first scene opens, King Lear is full into his plan to divide his kingdom among his three daughters, asking of them only that they demonstrate their love for him in words. He knows he is growing older and that kingdoms are ripped apart in succession battles, so he wants to settle the question of succession before he dies. All he asks in return for handing over his kingdom is that he can stay with each daughter for portions of the year.

The eldest daughter Goneril, who is married to the Duke of Albany, loudly proclaims her love for her father. Then the second daughter, married to the Duke of Cornwall, outdoes her elder sister and proclaims even more floridly her love for her father. Finally, King Lear turns to his youngest daughter, Cordelia—she is his favorite. He expectantly awaits her words, assuming she will outdo them all.

Cordelia, however, demurs. She refuses to play the word game, and for her virtual silence, her father disinherits and disowns her, giving her portion of land to Goneril and Regan. In great anger, Lear proclaims “Nothing will come of nothing.” When his faithful courtier, the Earl of Kent, protests, Lear turns on him and also banishes him from the kingdom.

The stage is set. You can almost guess where the story is going to go. However, Shakespeare throws in some additional characters and sub-plots to confuse the reader/viewer. He adds another courtier, the Earl of Gloucester, who has two sons—one legitimate named Edgar, and one illegitimate named Edmund. And you also have one of the most famous foils in all of Shakespeare in the character of Lear's fool, who frequently speaks more truth than any of the characters.

There you have it. The play then weaves a plot that explores many themes:

--who has the right to inherit from a parent—those who profess love, but do not show it, and those who love without having to profess;
--what does it mean to possess great power; what are the legitimate uses of power;
--what happens when a powerful man begins to lose his grip on power;
--what happens when a man begins to lose his grip on sanity;
--what does it mean to see and understand.

In fact, all through the play the imagery and language returns again and again to the theme of blindness (obviously standing for lack of perception); and the theme of madness. It is the madness theme that is most poignant. Early in the play, Lear has an inkling that he is losing his grip, and he says plaintively:

O! let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven;
Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!
King Lear, 1. 5

Perhaps the most famous scene in the entire play is at the beginning of Act III. Lear has been living with his daughter Goneril, and she has thrown him out. He tries to go to Regan’s castle, but she refuses him. So he is wandering around on the bleak heath where a mad storm is brewing (the storm in nature signifying the storm in Lear’s mind). He speaks:

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!
King Lear, 3. 2. 1

Ian McKellen was riveting portraying the gradual decay of this once proud king. He stood chest drawn up in full kingly regalia at the outset of the play. And as each insult comes his way, his shoulders droop, and you see the glint of insanity in his eyes. By the time you see him on the heath in the storm, you know he has lost all reason.

One scene absolutely took my breath away, both in its unexpected suddenness and in its perfection in depicting Lear’s dissolution. McKellen’s costume in the storm scene is something that looks like a night-shirt. At one point, he lifts it over his head, and stands practically nude before the audience. Ian McKellen, standing not much more than 20 feet away from us, with his genitals on full display! But then, I thought, how true—a person who has lost his touch with sanity, has no sense of social propriety. Clothing becomes optional, and even irrelevant.

The play ends, after the many twists and turns of the two plots, as with so many Shakespearean tragedies, with most everyone having died, or dying in the final scene. Cordelia and Lear are briefly reunited, only for Cordelia to be put to death, and Lear to do of grief.

Most of the Shakespeare tragedies have a single line that seems to capture the essence of the tragic protagonist. In King Lear, it is Lear’s proclamation that:
I am a man/
More sinned against than sinning.
King Lear, 3. 2
------------------

*Photographs are from the website

The Goose WAS Getting Fat. . .

Yesterday, we had our second Christmas dinner. Since we were in London for Christmas Day itself, we waited until Epiphany to celebrate a Christmas dinner with our son, his wife, and my father and stepmother. It was a wonderful occasion, and our meal was delicious. We had roast chicken, which was once considered a Sunday special dinner, along with the usual trimmings--mashed potatoes, broccoli, corn, crescent rolls and cranberry sauce.

Ah--the goose, you are wondering. What goose was getting fat? Well, that would be the goose we had for our first Christmas dinner. Before we traveled to London, our daughter asked if we would like goose for Christmas. Hmmmm--I could not recall ever having had goose, for Christmas or otherwise, so--sure, why not? After all, the song says "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat. . ."

Getting the provisions for Christmas dinner is why we went to Borough Market (see previous post). In addition to the goose, which came from The Ginger Pig, the other foods included: brussel sprouts still on the stalk, and fresh carrots and parsnips looking as though they were just harvested.

My daughter and her fiance had done all the reading on preparing a goose. So, while one set about rendering the goose fat, the other salted and peppered the goose. Oh, and then filled the goose with mashed potatoes made with goose fat. All ready to pop in the oven.

It seems that there is practically a cult of goose fat in the UK. Read all about the benefits here. We didn't go to quite the lengths extolled on the Internet. No potatoes roasted in goose fat. But I was amazed at the lack of any odor from the goose fat.

With the Christmas dinner all prepared, and set out on the table, all that remained was for us to enjoy.

And we did!

To Market, To Market

Our daughter had planned many treats for us during our recent visit. One of those treats was our actual Christmas dinner (more about that later). In preparation for that dinner, we went to a wondrous place to buy various foods: Borough Market.

Think country market, think farmers’ market, think food, flowers, gee-gaws, think serendipity.

I suspect Borough Market is always festive, but shopping for Christmas foods made it wonderful. Of course, the Salvation Army band playing excellent all-brass arrangements of Christmas carols set the mood. The weather cooperated with a bit of a bite in the air. As we walked around there were several places selling warm mulled wine; other places selling fresh coffee (espresso or filter coffee)—instant ways to warm up. There were stands selling all manner of hot sandwiches, including venison burgers, and ostrich sandwiches.

And the cheeses! Oh, the cheeses. Wondrous wheels of cheese, so many kinds I had never heard of before. As we walked along the rows of cheese stands, it seemed every vendor had samples to offer. I would take a sample, say HMMMM, that’s good, then walk to the next stand and repeat the whole process.

There were bread stands with marvelous whole loaves, unwrapped, in all their crusty glory. There were stands with olives and olive oils, complete with neat little sampling dishes and small cubes of bread for dipping.

Of course, there were meat stands, including one place that had fresh game hanging for sale—I confess I gulped, looked quickly, then averted my eyes. While I am a confirmed omnivore, I couldn’t quite look at the brace of pheasants, and of mallard ducks. Nor could I really look at the rabbits, and a deer. (Truth is--I didn't have the heart to take of photo of the displayed game.)

Happily, there were other less guilt inducing stands—a charming fruit cake stand (yes, I do love fruit cake) complete with candles and a stand with mounds of cocoa dusted truffles. Well, maybe another kind of guilt pops up at these stands.

For me, the standout offering was a cheese stand selling hot cheese sandwiches made in a sandwich press. They also heated a wheel of cheese and then sliced away the melting cheese over baked potatoes (or jacket potatoes, as they say). Yum. Make that YUM!

I loved the names of the various places. Part of our Christmas meal was coming from a place named The Ginger Pig. I spotted various signs that included quotes from various English writers extolling the virtues of some of the foods we would partake on Christmas Day—what is Christmas without a feast?

One very enlightening part of the market was the ubiquitous labeling indicating origin of the food. BRITISH grown produce, or foods coming from pinpoint locations around the UK. Also, signs at cheese stands proudly proclaimed they were made with unpasteurized milk.

The most educational part of the market was the emphasis on goose fat. (More on that in a later blog.) I loved this straightforward sign advertising a place to purchase your goose fat for roasting potatoes at Christmas.

Such a great place; such a fun visit. To market, to market—oh, yeah!

There’ll Always be an England

A new sight in London--nicknamed the Gherkin

------------------

Perhaps the title of this blog won’t quite fit my topic, as I intend to write only about London. But, truth be told, I can’t think of a pithy expression about London that captures the sentiment of the timelessness of some places.

London has been “there” for a really long time. London existed, if only as a small settlement, before the Romans invaded what became the British Isles in 45 AD. The history of London unfolds in a succession of waves of conquerors. Not surprisingly, it is an amazing city. It is no wonder that tourists go to London and gawk at the sights.

The Tower of London at night

This trip was my sixth visit there. When my parents (and I) traveled back and forth between Africa and the US, we visited there three times, and I have been there three additional times. So I have had a chance to see many of the typical tourist spots.

On past visits, I saw Buckingham Palace, St. James’ Park, Hyde Park, the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, the Tower of London, and the Tower Bridge. I saw Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral. I have spent some time (not enough) in some of the museums—the British Museum, the National Gallery and the Tate Modern.

For the most part, on this trip, we eschewed visiting these well-known places. There were, however, a couple of places I did want to see. We had not previously been to the Victoria and Albert Museum, so we spent a bit of time there. This museum calls itself “the world's greatest museum of art and design.” While the exhibits there were very interesting, I found them somewhat overwhelming: so much stuff. Not a very technical word, I know. But every exhibit hall seemed crammed full of items; it was difficult to absorb so much information.

We went to a concert at the Royal Albert Hall—it was a Christmas concert that featured the King’s College Choir from Cambridge. I don’t know if the King’s College Choir is as famous in the UK as my US impression presumes. This is the choir that has a Christmas Eve service of lessons and carols broadcast every year on NPR (and, of course, the BBC). So, its reputation is heightened for me. The concert was great fun; the Royal Albert Hall (where the annual BBC Proms concerts are held) was cavernous; the pipe organ at the back of the hall enormous. At the close of the concert, the program featured a carol sing which reminded me a bit of the carol sings I grew up with. One of my favorite Christmas carols for audience participation is “Good King Wenceslas.” It can be sung very dramatically, with male and female voices alternating depending on who the “speaker” is at that point in the lyrics.

We stayed close to where the Tower Bridge is located, so this was one iconic sight we did see several times. It amuses me that some people think this is “London Bridge.” In fact, my husband and I saw one set of tourists taking photos with the bridge in the background as they held hands up in the air, in the fashion of the child’s nursery rhyme.

One sight we saw—and studiously avoided—was the so-called London Dungeon. It was clearly a tourist attraction, and looked as phony as a $ 3 bill. Yet, there were lines of people waiting to get in. The place apparently features ghoulish displays—not my kind of place at all.

One place we revisited—having been there before on a previous visit—was the Tate Modern Gallery. I had read an article in the New York Times about an artist who had a featured work being displayed there, and was very excited to see this work in person. The artist is Doris Salcedo and the particular work is called Shibboleth (Bible scholars may recognize this word and begin to anticipate some of the meaning of the work).

Here’s an excerpt from the Tate Modern’s website describing the work:

Doris Salcedo’s Shibboleth is the first work to intervene directly in the fabric of the Turbine Hall. Rather than fill this iconic space with a conventional sculpture or installation, Salcedo has created a subterranean chasm that stretches the length of the Turbine Hall. The concrete walls of the crevice are ruptured by a steel mesh fence, creating a tension between these elements that resist yet depend on one another. By making the floor the principal focus of her project, Salcedo dramatically shifts our perception of the Turbine Hall’s architecture, subtly subverting its claims to monumentality and grandeur. Shibboleth asks questions about the interaction of sculpture and space, about architecture and the values it enshrines, and about the shaky ideological foundations on which Western notions of modernity are built.

It is always a thrill for me to see in person a work of art about which I have read.

Of course, there were many more sights that we saw (including our primary reason for visiting England)—to be continued. . .