Farewell Manila

Monday, January 18, 2016

Leaving Manila:

     Another fitful night—probably brought on by the stress of leaving in the morning. I awake at 7. 15 am and take a shower, pack up my bags and get down for breakfast. I meet Gerald Mullins again and he was seated at a table with a Mike Anderson who had served as an American diplomat in the Far East for decades before retiring and settling in Washington DC. We continue our conversation of last night and at a very leisurely pace, I enjoy a filling breakfast of omlettes, fresh fruit and coffee and take my leave.
     I have arranged to have the hotel’s taxi pick me up at 11. 30 am for a 1.00 pm drop off at the airport for 3.00 pm flight. But speaking with the gentlemen at my table, I am persuaded to call for it half an hour earlier at 11.00—which I do. Traffic is insane and there are no guarantees when one will reach.  I say goodbye to everyone and return to my room, lock up my cases and call Reception to have the bell boy take them to the lobby. I wait in the lobby for about 20 minutes and my car arrives and, as luck would have it, we have no traffic at all and reach the airport in exactly 20 minutes! I have three full hours at the airport to wait until my flight for Bangkok departs. It is a good time to catch up on my blogging and I do just that. Manila airport is not at all impressive and I find a quiet seat in front of a fan as it is awfully hot. My flight is announced on time and I leave for Bangkok on Philippine Airlines. It is a very comfortable flight and I am in Bangkok in three hours. There is a three hour layover there as I connect to an Air-India flight where I am delighted to be upgraded to Business Class on a four hour haul. Nothing could be more comfortable and I am pampered and treated like royalty with a glass of champagne for starters and the most delicious Indian dinner of tiger prawns served Thai style.
            I arrive at Bombay airport at 11. 15 pm , clear Immigration and am out in half an hour. My transport picks me up and drops me home to my Dad’s place in Bombay and I am all set then for another week in the city of my birth.
     Thanks for following me on this armchair journey. I feel blessed at the end of every trip about the amount of traveling I seem to be doing and the number of places to which I have been going. Until my next trip, bye for now.       

 

 

 

 

Making the Most of a Last Day in Manila: Intramurros, Chinese Cemetery, Ayala Museum

January 17, 2016
Making the Most of the Last Day in Manila
     I have had a fairly fitful night with an unnecessary intrusion at 2.00 am when someone began shouting outside my door loud enough to wake me up, then knocking it and saying something in a foreign language. I am shaken and alarmed and yell back, “Hello, what is it?” The knocking stops, the person mutters something and leaves. My heart is beating really fast when the phone in my room rings. I wonder if I should pick up the receiver. When I do, it is the guy at Reception apologizing and telling me that I was awoken by mistake and that it was another room and other occupants the party was seeking. I get back to sleep but adrenalin keeps me on tenterhooks 
Brekkie and Off to Mass:
     I awake at 7. 30 am far too early for my own good, not having had adequate sleep. Still, I make it to the Lobby Dining Room for a substantial breakfast of an omlette, fresh fruit and coffee and then ask for a taxi to take me to the Manila Hotel. I am supposed to meet my colleague Jessica at 9. 30 am, but I am a tad too early and roam around the hotel instead, getting money changed from American dollars to Filipino pesos and using the Business Center to charge my phone.
     At 9. 30, I am in the lobby, connecting with Jessica, and then walking towards Intramurros, the old quarter, to get to the Church of San Augustin where we are supposed to attend the 10.00 am Mass. Only when we get there, we find that there is a wedding on. The couple is kneeling at the altar of the 9.00 am Mass and probably because there was a wedding at the 8.00 am Mass as well–I have never seen so many bridal couples in so short a time as in Manila– the 9.00 am Mass started late. We have arrived just before the Offertory begins and we take our places in the beautifully decorated church. Having reached in time for the most important part of the Mass and having had a chance to take Communion, we do not think it is necessary to start 10.00 am Mass all over again–especially as we find that it is 10.20 and the 10.00 am Mass hasn’t yet begun! After Mass, the photographer choreographs all wedding portraits against the backdrop of the altar regardless of the fact that it is well past time for the 10.00 am Mass and the congregation is waiting outside to enter. Were they in the States, the whole bridal party would have been shooed off right after Mass ended! I know that in India IST (Indian Standard Time) has come to mean Indian Stretchable Time; but here in the Philippines, time is infinitely more flexible.
 Walking Around Intramurros with Jessica:
     There is much bustling activity outside the church as wedding parties dominate the plaza. We decide to use our presence in church to stroll around the quarter and take in some of its Spanish ambience. Horse-drawn carriages (called Kalesas) pass by us frequently and add to the atmospheric nature of the quarter. But right past one of the bylanes, we are in a very poverty-stricken area with slums just as in Bombay, street children running around and beggars asking for alms. Manila, like Bombay, is a city of contrasts and through the rest of the day I will discover just how obvious these binaries are.    
Off to the National Museum of the Filipino People by Cycle Rickshaw:
     Yesterday, in the coach when we had passed by the National Museum of the Filipino People, I had thought that I would like to return. Jessica preferred to return to the Manila Hotel to prepare for an Awards Ceremony Luncheon at 12 noon. With about two hours to play with, I find a cycle rickshaw pass by me and I ask the man if he will take me to the National Museum. I know that it ought to cost me no more than 25 to 30 pesos. But he asks me for 100 and since he is an old and very poor man, I agree although I feel guilty throughout the ride that an elderly man is giving me a ride. Still. I try to quell my guilt by focusing on the fact that I have probably contributed to his ability to eat that day and we move on. It is about a 15 minute cycle ride to the museum and he deposits me there as arranged. He pedals the bicycle–I sit in a little cavity at the side–like a side car on a motorbike! It is an odd ride and a very unusual expereince.
     My guide book tells me that I ought to get to this museum to see the excavated Treasures of the San Diego, a 15th century Spanish galleon that went down in Manila Bay, thanks to the idiocy and lack of experience and sea-faring knowledge of its Captain Morga. In war with a Dutch ship, Morga made all the wrong decisions and led his crew to death and his ship to destruction. It lay at the bottom of the ocean until the 1960s when it was pulled up.
    While there aren’t many great treasures really in the museum what was interesting to me was a whole lot of information about the Spanish galleon trade from China and the Spice Islands (modern-day Indonesia) through the Philippine islands and on to the West. Through a series of wonderful paintings, this history is well-recorded and since I am designing a course that deals with this theme, I found it especially helpful. Of the treasures themselves, there was a fine collection of jars–gigantic urns really used as ballast when filled with oil and water. These were made in China, Thailand (then known as Siam), and the Philippines. Beautifully assembled together, they make a stunning display. There are also male gold jewelry (belt buckles, for instance) and artifacts and, most interestingly, a real coconut and a large number of real hazelnuts that were removed intact from the wreck. There is also a whole gallery devoted to the blue and white China that was produced in China and that the ship was carrying as part of its cargo. From ginger jars to plates, there were a variety of items and they occupy two whole rooms. The ship’s anchor as well as the navigational instruments used to steer the ship on the high seas were also recovered from the wreckage and they are a part of the main exhibits. It is worth getting to this museum only to see this section, especially if one is interested in aspects of Renaissance maritime trade in the Indies.
      I hailed a passing taxi on the street, after spending over an hour in the museum and made my way to Manila Hotel to witness the award-distribution ceremony held during one of the magnificent buffet lunches that have been a part of this conference. Awards were given to the most active chapters of the East-West Center Alumni Associations that are spread all over the world. A few short speeches accompanied this formal part of the event. Lunch was delicious and plentiful, as usual, and while I am sorely tempted by all these goodies, I am dreading the impact on my waistline and cannot wait to get back to normal eating again.
Going on More Sightseeing Adventures:
     During lunch, I happened to be seated with the Filipino contingent–a lovely group of men and women who graduated from the East-West Center in the 1960s and are now prominent citizens of their country and very distinguished at that. They were warmly welcoming of me and were very inclusive during the ceremony. I was able to glean a lot of tourist information from them. Mainly I told them that following the advice of my guide books (Lonely Planet and others), I wanted to get to the Chinese Cemetery and to the Ayala Museum and to get back to my hotel for a shower and a change and then return to Manila Hotel by 6. 30 pm for our last Gala Aloha Dinner and Talent Evening. They marveled at my energy and told me that basically the only way to get there was by taxi and that since it was a Sunday, there was a possibility that I might be able to cover both venues through the afternoon. So off I went. But first I needed to find a taxi.
A Word About Manila’s Public Transport:
     So, at this stage, a comment on Manila’s Public Transport would be in order. Basically, it is non-existent and neither is it a walking or walkable city. It is vast, sprawling and, like Bombay, runs in a north-south pattern with several scores of miles linking the two portions. Our hotels were in the middle of the city, the Chinese Cemetery was in the north and the Ayala Museum was in an area known as Makati, even further north. There are no buses and a very sporadic light-rail train system that might as well not be there, I’m told.
     Local people pile into a vehicle called a Jeepney–a strange sort of Jeep (which, apparently, is a relic of American occupation of the islands). About 12 people fit into it, six on each side facing each other. I suppose you would need to tell the drive where you wish to go and he finds a route that caters to all his passengers. It would have been an interesting cultural experience to take it, had I a companion. Being alone, I simply did not feel comfortable getting into one. Left with the only choice, I needed to hail a cab. Cabs are very cheap by American standards, but there is this one problem. Once you get into a taxi, you will simply sit there for God Knows how long–for traffic is insane. Luckily, all cabs are air-conditioned. So if you are patient and not in a hurry to get somewhere, taxis kind of work.
     So, a taxi it was for me. Again, luckily, all the drivers speak fairly good English and most of them are honest. They do not try to spin your around just to keep the meter going. I managed to find a taxi through the concierge at the Manila Hotel. He turned out to be a Born Again Christian–so for the duration of a very long ride, I was subject to his attempts at converting me to his faith! Not exactly what I had bargained for! Still, he was taking me towards my destination–so I could endure his spiel. Also, he knew how to get to these tourist venues and he took the shortest routes to get to them.
Exploring the Chinese Cemetery:
     A cemetery, you say? Why? A Chinese one? Why? Why?
    Well, Lonely Planet had extolled the virtues of this one and made it sound like one of the world’s most unique experiences. I was game to give it a shot. We reached it in about half an hour and for the payment of 100 pesos, I was allowed inside.
     The Chinese are a very wealthy community in The Philippines–mainly traders and businessmen. They believe in sending their dead off to the next life in style and in creating mausoleums for them that are worthy of their earthly status. So what you see in this place is a little township–almost like a residential suburb inside a gated community with streets running in a neat grid pattern. The family of each deceased person buys a sort of vault–each like a little cottage in a terraced housing project–complete with marble steps leading to ornate wrought iron gates that are decorated with Chinese motifs, lucky lions, curving rectilinear roof lines, urns, flower vases, etc. Some of these vaults are air-conditioned, have basins with hot and cold running water and I am told even flush toilets (in case, the dead get caught short on their way to the next world!) The vaults are interspersed with various houses of worship–Buddhist, Taoist, Christian (there were several chapels). I simply could not believe what I was seeing. Needless to say, I took many pictures and did not linger too long as it was oppressively hot outside my air-conditioned vehicle. The gates of one of the vaults were open and two Chinese women were tending to the raised altar-like graves inside. I asked permission to take pictures of it and they graciously granted it. Inside, I found black and white pictures (probably from the 1950s) of a man and woman on the wall above their altar-mausoleums. The ladies were changing the flowers inside and putting fresh ones with fresh water into ornate vases. I am guessing they were the daughters of the deceased. I found the entire operation very moving indeed and, were I not so uncomfortably hot, I’d have stayed longer to witness their rituals. As it was, I returned to the car and told my driver (who had waited for me while I toured around and took pictures) to take me on to the next venue–the Ayala Museum.
     I was really glad I made the effort to get to the Chinese Cemetery. I do not believe I will see anything like this anywhere else in the world. It was a wonderful lesson in cultural studies–a living museum, if you will, of Chinese customs in the Philippines.
Off to See the Ayala Museum and Exploring Makati:
     Back in the taxi, my driver continued to fight traffic to get me to the next venue I wished to explore–the Ayala Museum. The Ayalas are a noteworthy, billionaire Filipino family–the equivalent of the Rockefellers in the US or the Ambanis in India. They made their money in mall-development and then went into real estate development of commercial property. Manila’s newest neighborhoods that go by the names of Greenbelt 1 to Greenbelt 5 are entirely their doing. In the process, they have become wealthy as Croesus and turned towards art collecting and creating a museum to display their collection. The Ayala Museum is the result.
     One of the Ayala family creations is the neighborhood of new Makati–an area that leads you to believe you have left Manila behind and entered London’s Canary Wharf, Bombay’s Bandra-Kurla Complex or the Hiranandani Estate in Powai or San Francisco’s Financial District. This is the other face of the Philippines–one that is lurching towards the mid-21st century at breakneck speed, thanks to Globalization. Naturally, it has created two segments of the population–the fiercely upwardly-mobile that live in high-rise air-conditioned apartment buildings (as do Bombay’s nouveau riche) while the poorest have been left far behind, not even daring to step into these upscale neighborhoods. I was really glad I took the time and trouble to come out to Makati–to see for myself the designer stores, the trendy coffee shops and wine bars, the discos and clubs that cater to the young of this city that work by night as call center attendants and spend their days drinking, smoking and blowing up the money they earn working for American corporations as telephone support staff. Meanwhile, in the skyscrapers themselves, multi-national corporations work in glass paned, climate-controlled offices and I did pass by the Peninsula Hotel Manila and the Shangri-La Hotel in this area. These five-star hotels cater directly to the international financial community.
Exploring the Ayala Museum:
     Eventually, I did get to the Ayala Museum and it amazed me that for a private air-conditioned taxi ride that provided a driver that stayed the course with me through my stops for over an hour and a half, I paid no more than US$6! Taxis are an incredible bargain in this city and although we often sat in traffic that actually put me to sleep (I dozed off after my gigantic lunch), we did get to our destination.
     The driver drove away and I hurried to the Main Reception Desk, manned by a crew of very smart young men and women who looked like college undergrads. They honored my Metropolitan Museum ID card and gave me free entry into the museum after telling me that staff of all museums, world-wide, are allowed inside free of charge. I told them that I had about an hour and half to spend in the museum and wondered if they could tell me which highlights I should not miss.
     They directed me immediately to the fourth floor to see the Pre-Colonial Gold Treasures of the Philippines which would have been a great exhibit but for the fact that most of the items were on loan to a museum in New York at the moment–perhaps I will see it when I get back home. The few items that were there were good. Seeing this exhibit was preceded by a ten minute film that explains how these items were made–might have been worth my while if they had all been there.
     The second area they had directed me to was the second floor where the entire history of the Philippines has been depicted in a huge diorama consisting of about 75 windows or vignettes that detail pre-historic times to the present. It was a wonderful introduction to the country and having taken Carlos’ tour yesterday, it was like a refresher course, in visual terms, for me. You need a lot more time to do this exhibit justice and I hurried through it and was very pleased to bump into an American couple who were also attending my conference. They too intended to get back by taxi by 5.00 pm and I asked if I could share their cab–to which they readily agreed.
     Before leaving the museum, the three of us stepped into the lovely gardens that hold changing sculptural exhibitions. It reminded me very much of the beautiful gardens of the Norton Simon Museum in Los Angeles that I had explored last summer. Filled with koi (Chinese goldfish), the pond was a huge drew for children. Meanwhile, the Ayala Museum sits bang in the center of designer stores, coffee shops, etc. and get this, a church! In fact, Mass was going on as we passed by and since the church was very modern with gardens around it, the faithful had spilled out onto the green lawns and were listening to Mass in the midst of worshippers of Mammon. It was all very peculiar indeed.          
Back to my Hotel:
     We had a lovely conversation en route to our hotel. The couple, Richard and Rae, had met at the East-West Center in the 1960s as Grad students. They were both practicing lawyers in Honolulu, Hawai’i, working in their own law firm. They had one son in Los Angeles and had arrived in Manila from Australia where they had attended the wedding of their son’s friend. They were very easy conversationalists and we had a sparkling exchange that was a lot of fun. About 40 minutes later, they dropped me off at my hotel before driving off to theirs.
     I raced through a shower and a change and then requested the concierge to get me a taxi to the Manila Hotel. I was there in under ten minutes and hastened off to the Maynila Ballrom for the Grand Finale Gala Dinner of our conference where I had the chance to reunite with many of the new friends I have made over the past three days. I sat with Jessica and Mary and a few other people and had a really enjoyable evening. Needless to say, the buffet dinner once again left me feeling stuffed just looking at it and the talent provided on stage offered a range of abilities–some performers were good and some, well…let us say they earned full marks for lacking stage fright!
    At the end of the evening, after all the Thank-Yous were said, and table prizes were won, there was a lovely ‘Aloha Oe’ Song sung with all participants holding hands and forming two  huge leis as we sang the words. It was a touching goodbye and then the dancing began and we were all on the floor boogeying!
    It had been an incredible experience and I was very glad that I had juggled so effectively my attendance at some of the main sessions of the conference with exploration of the city and an examination of its most note-worthy monuments and museums. Since I do not believe I will ever return to Manila (although never say never), I was very glad I made the most of every moment in this city. Perhaps one ought to see other parts of the Philippines–its beautiful rural and natural wonders, for instance–but I was not unhappy with what I had seen and the brave attempts I made, despite many transport inconveniences and the unmitigated heat–to see the place.
            On the chartered shuttle coach back to my hotel, I meet a very nice elderly gentleman named Gerald Mullins from Wisconsin who was a career educationist, did his Ph.D. in Asian Studies from the EWC in the 1950 or 60s and has come to the conference with the idea of reuniting with his classmates. He was a very interesting conversationalist and I had a lovely ride back to our hotel together with him.
     Tomorrow, I shall rise at leisure, have breakfast and get ready for my departure to Bombay via Bangkok. 
     Until tomorrow…. 

 

 

My Presentation at the Conference and Half Day Tour of Old Manila

Saturday, January16, 2016

Up and Awake:
     I am still keeping Indian time so jetlag continues to keep me fast asleep in the small hours of the morning. I awoke without setting an alarm for 7. 15 am, washed and went down for breakfast in the lobby of Lotus Garden Hotel which was basically a repeat of yesterday–omlette with ham and pineapple, coffee, fresh fruit. I hop into the Shuttle Bus at 8.45 am that takes us to the Manila Hotel, our conference venue and am there by 9.00 in time to listen to a plenary session on nations that are troubled by issues of terrorism. I learn a lot about the recruitment of young people by ISIS from countries like Indonesia. There is a session about the Muslims of the Philippines–Islam reached this nation before Christianity did. Hence, in the south of the country, Islam is a very vigorous presence and most of its practitioners are farmers. The Q&A session that followed was predictably contentious but did not get too uncomfortable. A Coffee break followed–little fruit tarts were served with it and they were both very welcome as I started to have serious nervous pangs in preparation for my session which followed at 11.00 am.

Making My Presentation:
     My presentation was at 11.00 am and by 10. 45, I was up in the room in which it was to be held. I met the Chairperson, Channay Sak-Humphrey from the University of Hawai’i, and the three other panelists of which one was from China and two others from the University of Hawai’i at Manoa.  There were about 30 people in the audience and several walked in and out as the presentations continued. I was the second presenter and, as often happens, once I got to the podium, my nerves calmed down and I was quite confident as it progressed. I got quite a few laughs as I had inserted several jokes into my talk and since I was speaking directly to the audience rather than reading from a paper, it seemed somehow rather more interactive than most conference presentations are. The other participants used Powerpoint–I did not as I still believe that it can be very distracting.
     At the end of the presentations, there were questions and I had a few addressed to me. I have to say that overall I felt the audience were able to relate to a lot of what I said about preparing American students for jobs in the Asian work place by acculturating them to Oriental social expectations and norms. When the session ended at 12. 30, in time for another one of our humongous lunches, I had the great pleasure of being seated with a man who attended my session. We were able to continue our discussion during lunch and it was while I was eating that another couple came up to me. They too had attended my presentation. The man introduced himself to be as the Director of the International Education Program at Hong Kong Baptist University and he gave me his card and invited me to come to his university and give a series of talks on the subject I had covered. I was really and truly gratified and thanked him very sincerely. It might definitely be something I would consider doing in the next year.
     Lunch was finished by 1. 30 pm –another buffet affair with an abundance of dishes and really tempting desserts. And then it was time for those of us who had signed up for the sight-seeing tours to go out into the lobby to meet our tour guides and board our respective coaches.  Three different tours had been offered: Old Manila, Modern Manila and Technological Advances in Manila. Being the history buff I am, I had chosen the Old Manila Tour and since there were about 100 of us on this tour, we had three coaches that followed each other as we departed at 1. 45 pm.

On ATour of Old Manila:
     The tour guide on our coach was called Tom. He introduced himself and told us that our tour would begin at the National Museum where we’d be met by another guide who would give us a Highlights Tour. As it turned out, he led the driver to the wrong place–to the National Museum of the Filipino People (the Museum of Archeology and Anthropology) when, in fact, he was supposed to take us across the street to the National Museum of Fine Arts. Needless to say, I was thrilled that we ended up in the Fine Arts Museum where we spent the next hour.

Manila’s National Museum of Fine Arts:
     Our guide at the Museum was a very young boy who turned out to be amazingly competent for his age. He had his work cut out for him as he had to introduce us to the museum’s highlights in one hour. There were two floors and he started at the ground floor with two monumental paintings in a single room–one on the Assassination of Governor-General Bustamente by Hidalgo–a really huge painting with the most dramatic realism as to be deeply stirring. It depicts a very historic event in Filipino history (the murder of the Spanish Governor-General who was sent by the King of Spain to find out what the Catholic Friars were doing in the Philippines and to report to him. When Bustamente found out that the friars were a corrupt bunch and when he attempted to set them right, they murdered him in cold blood together with his son who tried to defend him. Did I mention that these were Catholic priests?) Well…
     The second painting is by Juan Luna, considered one of the greatest classical painters of the country. He studied Art in Paris during the mid-19th century and painted the Spoliarium, a depiction of the manner in which slaughtered gladiators and their remains were treated in the Roman Colisseum after their fights with wild animals. This painting won the first place in the Art Exhibition in Madrid and made Luna a celebrated name. The Filipinos are justly proud of him and on the upper floors of the museum, there are a vast number of examples from his repertoire–all of which I found very appealing.
     The tour then took us to the upper floors where we saw more contemporary works in the Cubist style–vast series of them that were spread out over several galleries that encompass the lives of the people and their history. We also saw sculpture and although the guide moved quickly, it was a very good introduction to these artists and their contribution to the cultural life of the country.
     Finally, the tour ended with a visit to the main room which was once occupied by the Senate of the Nation. It had marvelous bas-relief carvings on the crown moldings at the top that depicted international figures that have contributed to Law and Legal Studies. I found this room and their artistic achievement quite stunning.
     Our tour ended and we re-boarded the bus and made our way to the most historic part of Manila known as Intramurros–which, in Spanish, means ‘Within The Walls’. Indeed, we passed through extraordinarily thick stone walls of the city–apparently built of baked volcanic ash–and entered the area know as Fort Santiago (‘Fort St. James’ in Spanish). Incidentally, the patron saint of the Philippines is the Virgin Mary.
    
Discovering Fort Santiago:
     Fort Santiago is the very heart of Intramurros and is a lovely sprawling space filled with greenery, tall tropical trees and lilting fountains. The general history of the place was explained to us and then we were told to await the arrival of a young Filipino man named Carlos Cedran who has gained a sterling reputation in these parts as an actor who gives walking tours for which one has to sign up well in advance as they fill us very quickly. We were fortunate then to have been able to get him to take us on a walking tour of the area.
    The idea is simply that he presents a multi-faceted act that includes a rather brilliant monologue based on a script that he has probably written himself. It is a very witty script and includes a great deal of humor. He acts, he sings, he shouts, he dances, he laughs, he mimes. Meanwhile, he literally ‘walks’ you through the history of the country by taking you from one section to the next of the Fort,wearing various hats and using various portable props to boost his performance.
     He is irreverent about everything and spares no one. He begins in 1521 with the arrival of the first Spaniard Ferdinand Magellan on his circumnavigation of the globe–he was eventually killed in the Philippines–and the role of Lepgazpi which gave rise to the Spanish Galleon trade. From there he moved on to  rebellion against the Spaniards especially by Jose Rizal who wrote anti-Spanish novels such as Noli Mi Tangere and was imprisoned and executed for his pains. He is considered the national hero of the Philippines and there is a national monument to him in a park that is named after him, Rizal Park, which is very close to our hotel and which we pass by each day. His remains are now interred at the base of this monument. The monologue then moved on to the 400 years under Spanish rule when the country is said to have lived in a convent. This Christianization of the nation has made it the third largest Catholic country in the world after Brazil and Mexico–and probably the most devout.
    The act then moves on to talk about the arrival of the Americans especially the role played by General MacArthur. I learned that it ended with the near-destruction of Manila by the Japanese who attacked the city at the same time that they attacked Pearl Harbor. Hence, almost all of Manila today is a post-World War II reconstruction. The Americans brought rock and roll and jazz, modern electricity and appliances and public school education–which is why although the Philippines was never a British colony, English is spoken here very widely (not Spanish). Eventually, the Filipinos got their independence from the Americans and asserted their own identity despite a history marked by bloody wars and insurgency.
      Carlos ended his act at the Church of San Augustin, the oldest church in East Asia which is still standing and was spared destruction by war bombs. The city also has the oldest university in the East, UST or the University of San Thomas which was founded by the Jesuits in the early 1500s–which makes it older than Harvard. Saturday evening mass was going on by the time we arrived there –together with wedding nuptials–and we could not enter. I decided I would go there for Sunday Mass tomorrow.

Finishing with a Halo-Halo:
     Needless to say, I was thrilled that Carlos finished his tour with a Halo-Halo (which literally means Mix-Mix) at a very cute period restaurant where he used the national dessert to talk about the inter-racial mixing that has occurred in this country amongst the Chinese, Spanish and Americans resulting in a mestizo or population of mixed racial descent. He pointed out why there is no such thing as pure Filipino blood and why all the Filipinos look slightly different–different shades of skin, differing prominence of slanting eyes, etc. It was all very interesting and this bit of the act was accompanied by the consumption of a Halo-Halo that was served to each of us as we made ourselves comfortable on seats in a typical Spanish hacienda sort of inner courtyard garden attached to a restaurant that serves traditional Filipino food.
     Overall, Carlos’ act was marvelous and I thought we were very fortunate to catch it–although it lasted almost three hours, we did not find it too taxing (and there were some very elderly people among us). We piled back into our buses at which point I hooked up with Jessica, a Professor at the University of Oklahoma, whom I have just gotten to know. She mentioned that she too would like to go to Mass at the San Augustin Church and we made plans to meet at 9. 30 am tomorrow in the lobby of the Manila Hotel.
                  
A La Carte Dinner at Ilang-Ilang Restaurant:
     Meanwhile, because our conference did not include dinner this evening, I joined Jessica and another delegate from San Diego named Claire to have dinner at one of the restaurants attached to the Manila Hotel. I decided to try something typically Filipino and ended up with a vast dish of thick rice noodles with pork and shrimp which was flavored with a small sour lime called Kalamassi and Chinese chili sauce. It was okay–nothing to shout about. Best of all was the opportunity to interact and get to know other delegates and get their impressions of the Convention, the walking tour and their work as scholars.

Back to my Hotel to Bed:
 I left my friends still at dinner at about 9.00 pm and asked the concierge at the Manila Hotel to get me a taxi that then took me back to my hotel where I went straight to my room, had a shower and to bed. It had been a long but very fruitful day and I was quite pleased to sink under the covers and go straight to sleep.
     Until Tomorrow….     
              
        

Mabuhay Manila! Getting to Know The Philippines Through the Manila Conference

Friday, January 15, 2016
Getting to Know The Philippines through the Manila Conference

The first thing I have discovered about Manila is how to pronounce it. It is Ma-nee-la. That’s how all the local people say it and that’s how I will say it too from now on. Also, I have learned that the word for Hullo in Tigalo (the local lingo) is Mahubay!

I awoke late–about 8. 00 am. which is late by my Morning Person standards. Since breakfast is only served till 10.00 am, I decide I need to shower and get to the restaurant in the Lotus Garden Hotel (in which I am staying) for breakfast. Right from there, I intend to get the concierge to hail me a taxi to take me to the Manila Hotel where my conference in being held.

Buffet Breakfast at the Lotus Garden Hotel:
The hotel’s buffet breakfast is more than adequate. There are cornflakes and bran flakes for starters–but I pass them up as I am trying to stay low-carb. I pass by an omlette-making station and decide that I will have one with The Works. I order it and go along to take a look at the other dishes. There are pancakes with maple syrup and all sorts of brunch dishes–fish with onion sauce, chicken adobo which is very good, bacon, hash browns, cooked rice and salad at one end with fresh fruit. I settle down with coffee and, in a bit, by omeltte arrives. I add some bacon to it and have myself a very nice brekkie, thanks.

Arriving at the Manila Hotel for the Conference:
Getting a cab is another story. The poor concierge has about 4 people ahead of me who have asked him for a cab. I wait for a good 20 minutes before he manages to find me one. I am at the hotel about 10 minutes later. The Manila Hotel is the Big Daddy of them all–the equivalent of the grand old Asian hotels of yore. Think Taj Mahal Hotel Bombay and you get the idea–they are of the same vintage. This one too was built in 1911. It is all marble foyer, glittering chandelier, fresh flower arrangements. We have practically taken of the hotel–we are over 400 delegates from all over the world (mainly Asian nations) and our events are spread out all over the hotel throughout the day.

I catch the last bit of one of the sessions. I have completely missed the Welcome Remarks, but I have no regrets. I was wiped out last night and deserved my lie-in. I pick up my ‘kit’–it is substantial (a laptop bag, a very nice bright blue folder with a matching credit card holder –from the Philippines Tourism folk–a really well brought out program, a wonderful book of abstracts, a pen, a map of Metro Manila, two packets of dried cranberries for snacking!) I am directed to another desk to pick up my pass for the half-day sight-seeing tour of Old Manila for which I have signed up and which will take place tomorrow afternoon.They have thought of everything and I am very impressed. I catch about 15 minutes of a session on Philippines’ cultural dance traditions and the attempts to incorporate it into school curricula.

     There is a brief coffee break but I am too stuffed to take a sip. I join many of the participants at two sessions on Filipino Dances–one is a Duck Dance which is particularly nice. Another is a stick Dance (like the Gujarati Garba). There is another dance which is performed with fans. I am fast realizing the Filipino culture has tons of dances. We are invited to learn some of the steps and many participants go forwards. About 20 minutes later, I go to another room where there is a demonstration on traditional Filipino musical instruments. All very interesting and a very nice way to break the ice and get to the more scholarly aspects of the program.

     In a little while, it is time for lunch and there is a feast awaiting us. I meet a number of folks–all strangers but all very friendly. I sit at the ‘India’ table where I meet an interesting father-son team from Chennai, another guy from Chandigarh and pretty soon, the contingent from Bangladesh join us. The food is sumptuous–so many courses, a little bit of everything for everyone. There is soup served at our tables (Pumpkin Soup, really good), bread rolls and butter and then the buffet service is open and I am piling my plate and thinking this had better stop soon or else none of my clothes will fit me.

The President of the Philippines Hath Spoken:
     After lunch, we are instructed to get ready for the arrival of the President of the Philippines,. Benigno Aquino. He seems a nice enough guy and he is not late! This is a relief as I dreaded being kept waiting as might have been the case if I were in India. He gives a very brief speech but it is sensible and not clichéd. The US Ambassador to the Philippines is also present and he offers to give participants a chance to visit the US Embassy if they would like to get there. The President’s address lasts about 12 minutes and then he is off.

I decide to hail a taxi (the cost is about US$1) and I return to my hotel for a rest. I unpack, get myself organized and take a nap and I feel extraordinarily refreshed.  After about a two hour break, I change and dress in slightly better clothing and return to the Manila Hotel by cab for our Welcome Dinner–this is preceded by a ton of Filipino dances–there is no end to them, it would seem. Beer and Iced Tea are served at our tables, and then there is soup (pumpkin again) and bread rolls with butter. After the dances and the speeches are done, the food stations are open for service and I find myself overwhelmed once again by the quality and the quantity of the food. Best of all, I get to taste Beef Rendang, which is a Malaysian curry of which I became aware only very recently when doing some research on the spice routes for a new course I am designing. It was absolutely delicious and I can see why it is so well-acclaimed. There are also loads of wonderful seafood and I am eating tons of shrimp of various sizes and mussels and calamari–amazing.

Getting Acquainted with Halo-Halo:
Best part of all, I get introduced to the most delicious dessert in the Philippines. It is known as halo-halo which means Mix-Mix. I am taught by those in the know how to assemble it. I am led to a table laden with a number of large bowls holding a lot of brightly colored items that are completely unfamiliar to me–they turn out to be preserved fruit including cherries. I am told to place a little bit of each of these things in the bottom of a bowl. They turn out to be red (azuki) beans, yellow beans, stringed coconut, gelatinized coconut water, a mash of purple sweet potato. Next I am told to pile on a lot of shaved ice on these items–which I do. Finally I am instructed to pour cream (from a pitcher) or ice-cream over the shaved ice. You are supposed to get to your seat and mix the whole concoction together and then spoon it into your mouth. I have never tasted any thing quite so unexpectedly delicious! I am absolutely delighted with it. And I am determined to have it many more times before I leave this place. There are also chocolate profiteroles (not great) and something called Ubi Ice-cream (which is a mauve ice-cream of ambiguous flavor, not very appealing).

A Reunion with Llew’s Former Colleague:
At 8. 45, the formal Welcome Dinner is over and I move to the Main lobby to meet a former colleague of Llew named Andrea who is heading to the hotel to meet me. I am not tired (having gotten my second wind) and I am looking forward to seeing her again (we had last met at our place in Southport when she had visited us). She arrives at about 9.30 and although I am stuffed, she insists that we go to one of the restaurants in the hotel called Ilang-Ilang for a coffee.

It is great to see her again–she looks vivacious and happy at four months pregnant. We sit down with decaff coffee and two Filipino desserts which she insists on ordering so that I can taste them. One is called Puto Budong–it is rolls of purple sticky rice on which you sprinkle brown sugar, cheese and grated coconut. I neither cared for the texture nor the taste of it. The second dessert, Bibica–which sounded like the Portuguese-Goan Bibique–was nothing like the Bibica I know from Goa. This too is garnished with coconut. No, these were nothing to write home about, but I think Halo-Halo was awesome and I will have it again anytime if given half a chance.

Andrea gave me a ride back to my hotel before pushing off home. It was after 11.00 when I got back to my room and, to my disappointment I found my room so noisy from a club/bar on the adjacent street where music was simply blaring. I had heard this sound the previous night too but since it was much softer then, I did not make a fuss. This volume was too much to endure and I immediately called Reception and asked to have my room changed. They agreed immediately and moved me into  a super deluxe room for one night. Tomorrow, they will move me into another room that is on the other side of the hotel far from the club. The bell boy moved me to another room in a jiffy and I have to commend the hotel on their willingness to oblige me and the speed with which it was all accomplished.

My new room is huge and very quiet–heavenly. Needless to say, all I did was hit my bed as soon as I entered my room. I will deal with packing up and leaving my bags in Move Out condition tomorrow.

Until tomorrow…                     

This entry was posted on January 16, 2016, in Manila.

Riding Hong Kong’s Unique Public Transport. Plus Museum of History

Thursday, January 14, 2016
Covering Hong Kong’s Last Bits and Bobs:

    Since I had a 5. 30 pm flight from Hong Kong to Manila in The Philippines, I set my alarm for 8.00 am to leave me enough time to pack, have breakfast and finish the last bits and bobs of Hong Kong that I had left undone. As it turned out, I awoke without my alarm by 7. 30 and got an even earlier start. It was a fitful night’s sleep and I did not feel rested when I awoke.
     Half an hour later, I had washed and dressed and gone down to brekkie. I chose the Hong Kong Breakfast–scrambled eggs (which were my choice–it usually comes with a fried egg), toast and butter, a giant bowl of soup that had elbow pasta and mushrooms in it. Having tried all three breakfasts at the Youth Hostel, I can say that the tastiest was the Chinese one with a huge bowl of very flavorful congee and two pork momos.
     Back in my room, I locked my case, stripped my bed (as instructed) and took my bed (including my duvet cover) and bath linen downstairs. Any place that offers impeccably clean down duvets to its guests with individual covers that are changed each time sheets are changed is simply a miracle to me. I could not have had this luxury even had I opted for a pricey hotel–which is one of the reasons why I still think youth hostels world-wide are simply the best value for money (if one is traveling alone). I checked out, stashed my case in the Left Luggage Locker and was off. I would pick it up at the end of the morning’s rambles en route to the airport.
    
Racing to use Hong Kong’s Unique Forms of Public Transport:
     I had three items on my agenda for the morning and I knew I had to race through them all as I set myself the goal of returning to the hostel by 1. 30 to pick up my case and leave for the airport. I wanted to use all of Hong Kong’s unique forms of public transport. Having used the excellent Metro (Underground) system and the double-decker bus system (a legacy of British colonial rule), I headed to the Sham Tsui Po Metro station to make my way to Central so that I could get to the famous Star Ferry Terminal to ride it across what was once called Victoria Harbor.
     Since I had my bearings well, I found the closest way to get to the Metro station. I bought a single ticket from a dispensing machine (as I am running out of money on my Octopus card and since you can only load the card in multiples of HKD 50 and I am leaving today, it made no sense to do so).  I was at Central in ten minutes and having taken instructions of the Youth Hostel receptionist, I followed signs to the Star Ferry Terminal.

Getting to the Star Ferry Terminal:
     Since my hostel is located on the island of Kowloon (known simply as Kowloon), I was going to make the Ferry Crossing to Hong Kong Island. The Harbor is simply like a wide river and the crossing take about 12 minutes; but it is one of the most spectacular crossings in the world as you head towards a concrete jungle that features the work of some of the world’s most talented architects such as I.M. Pei and Norman Foster. Also the Star Ferry is legendary–having been the one and only crossing between these two spots for centuries. For of the price of a coffee today (HKD 2.50), you board one of the most antiquated navigational systems in the world–the assistants still pull the ferries in to anchor them with long poles with hooks at the ends of them!
     Because Hong Kong is such a well-planned city, you do not need to get on the streets at all once you get off the Metro at Tsim Tsa Tsui. For a good deal of time you walk underground past some of the most amazing underground stations I have ever seen–filled with shops, restaurants, bakeries, etc. When you emerge upstairs, you are opposite the iconic Peninsula Hotel (which I had entered last night). You go past it and head towards the famed Clock Tower which is another old relic from the past.

Getting to The Clock Tower:
     This delightful Clock Tower–an Edwardian relic from the British colonial past–was built in 1910. It was part of the train station on the Kowloon-Canton Line that took passengers from Hong Kong to China. This was one of the lines run by the Orient Express–although its European counterpart is much more famous. When the station building was demolished in the mid-twentieth century, when presumably the railway line was shut down–the Tower was retained and it is a lovely piece and a very warming sight. It is composed of red brick and grey granite and sports a white faced clock at the turreted top.
     I hurried off to the Star Ferry and its fleet of battered green and white boats. You walk along antiquated gang planks and arrive on board and since there were no more than 20 people–almost all of then tourists–when I made the crossing, I had my choice of seats. In the days gone by, before the construction of the metro, I am told the ferry was always filled to capacity with hundreds of Chinese grandmas pushing and shoving to get to the markets on the other side or to get back home with their bags filled with smelly fish and fresh vegetables! Not any more. The Metro is now the way to make the crossing (much faster although far more pricey and completely lacking in ambience).
     It was an overcast hazy day–so I did not get good pictures. But no matter. I enjoyed every second of the sail as I took in the buildings–the curvaceous Hong Kong Convention Center and the towering International Finance Corporation (IFC) Tower which is today Hong Kong’s tallest building. These are framed by the Peak which I had climbed yesterday. A very stirring sight indeed and very interesting. 

Making my Way to the Trams:
     Having arrived on Hong Kong Island and having ticked off Ride the Star Ferry from my To-Do List, I headed to wards the Trams. Once again, I did not need to get on the streets. Once you disembark, you arrive at a long Footbridge that somehow manages to wind its way around the great commercial skyscrapers as it skims above the streets. Below you, traffic whizzes past in an extraordinarily organized fashion. You keep walking and taking in the sights of the buildings (now up close and personal) and finally arrive at the descending staircase for the Trams.
     A word about Hong Kong’s Trams: Again, they are a relic of the past and one to which Hong Kong’s people still cling fiercely. I am old enough to remember boarding trams in the city of Bombay where I was born. As a little girl, I did not live far from what was then known as Mazagoan TT (for Tram Terminus). I can recall boarding them with my Dad and taking them all the way to VT (Victoria Terminus) station. I remember the ‘ding-ding’ that the driver made by pulling on a bell each time the tram approached a station and to get pedestrians off his tracks.
     I was determined to ride on one of the trams to evoke my own personal history and in taking the Footbridge to Des Voeux Street where the trams run, I somehow found myself in the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel! The staff there were very polite as they led me to the descending staircase to get to the trams. What makes Hong Kong’s trams unique is that  they are the world’s only double-decker ones. I have ridden trams recently in former Communist Eastern Bloc countries such as Hungary (in Budapest) and in Poland (in Krakow) as well as in Vienna in Austria. But these Hong Kong ones are like stately ladies–they are tall, thin and almost statuesque and they seem to flow or roll along with little mincing steps. They are a true delight to watch as they glide over their tracks in the middle of double-decker buses, taxis, some of the world’s most expensive cars, etc.
     I found a tram stop at Pedder Street and waited for about 10 minutes for one going to Kennedy Town (the destinations are clearly marked in the front) and I sailed along Des Voeux Street for about 10 minutes till I arrived at the end of the main skyscrapers. Using my Octopus Card, I paid for my ride as I alighted–it was HKD 2. 50 for the ride (no matter how far you go–same as the cost of the Star Ferry Crossing). These rides have to be some of the world’s best bargains. I climbed the spiral staircase (which is at the front and the back) and got to the front center seat for superb photo ops as the city crawled past me. The irony of my situation was not lost on me. Here I was in one of the oldest transport systems in the city passing by some of the most cutting-edge architecture and shops selling the most up-to-the-minute technical and digital devices. This simple pleasure was for me a

absolutely fascinating.
     I then retraced my steps back, and following clearly-marked directions on the streets, returned to the Star Ferry Terminus on the Hong Kong side in order to get back to Kowloon. Thus, I had two lovely sails across the Harbor for less than the cost of a single Metro ride. This time, I was able to get lovely views of the Piers with the buildings framed behind them. Ten minutes later, I was emerging on the island of Kowloon and walking straight towards the next item on my agenda.

The Tsim Tsa Tsui Promendade in Kowloon:
        Getting to the Museum of History, I walked along the famed Promenade to which every tourist rushes for the most all-encompassing views of the skyscrapers of Hong Kong Island at the back. It is a beautifully paved and well decorated space, full of contemporary sculpture around the Center for Contemporary Arts. I took the mandatory pictures and hurried off. 

Arriving at the Museum of History:
      By this time in the day, it was about 11. 00 am and I had about two hours to get to the Museum of History. The guide books say that if you have time to see just one museum, it should be this one. It is easily reached past all the other museums in the district, each of which has lovely note-worthy architecture.
     Getting to the Museum meant a long walk of about half an hour from Tsim Tsa Tsui station–although it does not look that far on a map. You follow the underground exit signs and emerge on top. But from there, it was a further walk of about 15 minutes. I wondered if I should abort my mission as I would be left with very little time in the museum at the rate I was going.
Exploring the Museum of History:

      Eventually, I was glad I stayed the course. The Museum has been recently refurbished at the cost of about a billion HKD and the expenditure shows. The biggest attraction is ‘The Story of Hong Kong’ which consists of 8 galleries that trace its history from the pre-historic period to the take over of the island by the Chinese from the British in 1999. I raced through the earliest bits but then spent a while on the Folk Traditions Gallery which showcases a typical Chinese wedding ceremony as well as a wedding processing–complete with people who take on the persona of dragons, etc. These were grand and very visually stimulating. 
        I then spent about an hour focusing on the Colonial History which is of special academic interest to me. It turns out that the British acquired the islands that comprise Hong Kong as a result of a treaty called the Treaty of Nanking signed with the Chinese in 1845 as a result of war reprisals. You can see a replica of the actual Chinese-drawn Treaty and of the stone column that was formerly in Nanking Cemetery.
      As soon as they acquired the islands, the greedy British had to find some way to equalize the trade imbalance that existed in the passion that their people had developed for tea. They were buying a whole lot of tea from China and had to find a way to get the Chinese to buy something of equal value from them. They hit on opium–grown in British India (in Dacca, now Dhaka in Bangladesh!) and began shipping this to China. In no time at all, the Chinese became badly addicted to the stuff and when attempts were made by them through their local Governor Lin to stop the import of opium into their country by the British, the infamous Opium Wars began. The entire story is told through lovely vignettes in a gallery that is framed by a two-story colonial port building set against old Kowloon Harbor with a British steam boat and an ancient junk sharing space in the water.
        The next most fascinating bit of the museum for me was the reproduction of a typical Hong Kong street in the late 1800s–similar to the street in Victorian London that you go through at the Museum of London. This part comprised a bank, a pawnshop, a typical Chinese grocery, a herbalist’s dispensary, a tea shop, etc. It was all brilliantly done and I could have spent hours in this section had I more time. 
       There was also a section on the Japanese Occupation of Hong Kong in 1944 during World War II and had I more time, I am sure I would have learned a lot more from it as well. As it was, I merely skimmed through all of it.
        Contemporary Hong Kong of the mid-1900s is represented well too–there is an actual cinema hall that screens films three times a day from that epoch. I sat through one screening for a few minutes before leaving to look at a soda fountain, a modern grocery store, etc. All rather wonderful stuff. The last section showcased items for which Hong Kong became famous in the 20th century–toys, lighting, lanterns and plastics including Thermos flasks which I found very interesting.

     About an hour later, I left the museum feeling very glad that I visited it. It provided marvelous context for my visit to the city and the wondrous sights I had seen. I would heartily recommend this as a Must-Do Item for anyone who has more than three days to spend in the city.

Getting Back to the Airport:
        From this point on, it was only a matter of making my way back on the metro to the Youth Hostel, picking up my case and leaving for the airport. I was well in time and on the E 21 bus which takes about an hour to get there.       
        The bus ride was very peaceful as we went along bridges that knit the outlying islands of the New Territories together. In an hour, I was in Terminal 1 and headed to the Cathay Pacific Airlines counter for my flight to Manila–only to discover that it was 45 minutes late. However, I was grateful for the rest as I had walked my feet off over the past three days and I was more than ready to sit down with a sundae and something to read.

     At 6. 30 on, my flight finally left Hong Kong. By then, darkness had fallen over the city and as we took to the skies for the 2 hours flight to Manila, I dozed off. A light snack was served on board and as the time flew, I was in Manila.
Overall Impressions of Hong Kong:

     I was really very glad I finally got to Hong Kong and explored it with some degree of efficiency.  Apart from the main tourist sights such as The Peak and The Central area, I had a chance to get to Macao and to participate in the local life of the people by riding the transportation networks that they use daily.
      I am increasingly realizing, the more I travel, that global exploration is far more than merely seeing the tourist sights–it is, in fact, about experiences. It is about participating in the kind of activity one does not commonly have the chance to experience: in this case, it was the Star Ferry sails across the Harbor and the riding of the double-decker trams.
      I found that Hong Kong Island is a far more modern commercial hub that Kowloon–the spiffy glass and concrete constructions that comprise the world’s financial dealings are here. However, in Kowloon, regular residents of Hong Kong go about their business. Here is where the flea markets are: selling all manner of daily items such as fresh fruit and veg, pirated electronics, toys.
      It is a teeming city and I was amazed at how crowded it is. In so many ways, the crowds reminded me of Bombay. I was simply not prepared for this.
      I was also amazed at how little English is spoken here. Even when children go to English schools, their speaking skills are minimal. Given the fact that this was a British colony for more than 150 years, this really surprised me. It was as bad as Japan in terms of trying to ask for or get directions anywhere. When I was in Shanghai, I did not find the city crowded at all (and yet China is the world’s most populous country). But Hong Kong…well, let me just say the crowds of were overwhelming.    
       The people also love to shop–they just buy and buy and buy. Every Mom and Pop shop is packed  and doing roaring business. As for the designer stores, there are three Prada shops there and I saw at least six Gucci ones.
       There is a world of difference between the way ‘regular’ people live (in modest, many-storied apartment buildings, as in India–all studded with air-conditioners) and the way the wealthy live (mainly in sea-facing apartment buildings along the coast that are rented out to the white expatriate banking and trading community). In fact, I am told that Repulse Bay and Stanley through which I had taken a delightful bus drive on my first evening, comprises some of the world’s most expensive real estate and is owned by Chinese billionaires who make their money through such investments.
      The city is impeccably clean and the people keep their neighborhood and areas quite spotless. Wares spill out of shops and occupy half the streets that have been turned into shopping plazas.
        As in any big city in the world today, traffic is a hassle as there are simply too many cars everywhere.    
       Smoking is rampant and both genders seem to smoke equally frequently.
       The shops are full of strange-looking food that I could not recognize–all sorts of crackers and dried fruit (a lot of plums). 

       Well, I guess that’s what I picked up on my brief visit. I am glad I had a chance to see it all for myself.
Arrival in Manila, Philippines:

       I had been instructed to take a taxi from the airport to my hotel and I was delighted to find that my conference organizers had arranged for me to be picked up and assisted every step of the way–this is the difference between taking a self-arranged holiday and getting to some place on official business! The young man who assisted me at the airport was called Voltaire and in no time at all, I was in a Coupon Taxi and for a flat rate of 530 Filipino pesos (about US$6), I was dropped off at my hotel–the Lotus Garden Hotel in Ermita.
      Needless to say, I was exhausted when I got there and could only just undress and climb into bed having made all wifi connections.
     Until tomorrow….

 

     

 

   

Mucking About In Macao–Like Las Vegas on Ginseng! Plus Victoria Peak

Its All About Macao
Wednesday, January 13, 2016

     Today I felt so much more at home in Hong Kong. Feeling well rested after a good night’s sleep and when you have learned the lay of the land, know how to use public transport and have your bearings–all these factor in when you are in a foreign country alone and hope to have a good time.  As it turns out, I was not alone today and for most of the day, I was not in Hong Kong. I was with Nora, my roomie, who was fab company and I spent most of the day in Macao.

     Macao was a Portuguese colony until 1999 when its 100 year lease from China ran out. The colony then became a part of Chinese territory. Most visitors today go there for one reason–gambling! It is the only part of China in which gambling is legal. Hence, loads of people come in from Mainland China precisely to roll the dice. Other visitors (such as myself) go there to imbibe the Portuguese colonial ambience, to get a whiff of the trade that made the Portuguese so wealthy as they used the island as a trading post between China and their colony in India called Goa.

     When I awoke at almost 9.00 am (I am jetlagged and still keeping Indian time), I asked my room-mate, Nora if she wanted to join me on a trip to Macao. She had not intended to get there but readily agreed when she found she had me for company. She rushed through a shower, I got dressed and within half an hour, we were downstairs in the Youth Hostel where Breakfast is included in our tariff. I chose the American brekkie today (scrambled eggs with ham, toast and butter and get this, salad–they must mistake Americans for Japanese–and corn!!! With Coffee, of course). Well and truly fortified for a day of exploration, we left.

     Only we did not realize how far away Macao is from Hong Kong–it is about 65 miles away and we needed to take the Metro to Cheung Wan for the Turbojet Ferry that transports you there in one hour for HKD 341 return trip. We were only able to get tickets for the 11. 45 ferry and off we went. We needed to book return tickets at the same time and we needed to select a time for the return crossing. We decided to get back by the 3. 30 pm ferry which would give us about two and a half hours to see the main sights of Macao. We were cutting it very fine but we had a glorious day and I wanted to make sure we would have time left over so that I could climb up to Victoria Peak.  The views of Hong Kong Island and Kowloon Island are good but we did not have window seats–so did not get really great pictures. The crossing was very peaceful as the seas was very calm indeed.

Getting To Know Macao:
      Nora and I decided that the first thing we needed was a map and as we moved towards the Information Desk, a man approached us and thrust one into my hand. It turns out that he was a taxi driver and in the most hilarious English, he explained that he was offering his services. We bargained him down to HKD 700 for two hours of sightseeing–he would take us around and show us the highlights and bring us back to the Ferry Terminal for our 3. 30 pm crossing. Fair enough! We don’t know if we got taken for a figurative ride (including a literal one!) but we thought the price was fair and set out.

     On the ride to the sights, we passed by the Equivalent of The Strip in Las Vegas–hotel after gaudy five-star hotel that is stacked with floors of casinos for your gambling pleasure–like Las Vegas on ginseng! I thought I was back in Nevada again. The place was crowded (just like Vegas) with thousands of merry-makers crossing the streets. The hotels are the same as in Las Vegas–The Wynne, MGM Grand, etc. Since this was not our interest, our taxi driver moved on.

Largo de Senado:
     The first stop on our agenda was Largo de Senado which is the main administrative square and the center of all Portuguese administration in the colony. Since the city still appears caught up in Christmas celebrations, there were wild decorations all over the place–a stage was set up and every sort of gaudy Chinese-type decoration was in evidence. The buildings, however, are deeply reminiscent of the ones in Lisbon or indeed even in Goa. And the streets sported the names of all my relatives–Da Costa, Rodriguez, Ferreira…there even was an Avenida de Almeida! We passed the Post Office and strolled the length of the quarter, taking in the building of Misericordia and making our way along a black and white cobbled street (similar to the ones I had seen all over Rio de Janeiro in Brazil) to the Church of St. Dominic where we paid a visit. We ended our exploration of the area with a pop into the Senate Building which, in Portuguese colonial times, was the center of all official goings-on. Today, of course, it is an official Chinese building. Charming, antiquated and very beautifully maintained, this area is a show piece for visitors and I must say that the Chinese government is doing a brilliant job keeping it impeccable. Which is far from what I can say about British colonial relics in Bombay!   

The Catholic Cemetery:
     We made a stop at the Catholic Cemetery by mistake as our taxi driver did not understand where to take us when I requested him to take us to the Protestant Cemetery.  Anyway, no harm done. We spent about 15 minutes before I realized we were in the wrong place. The Portuguese last names made it very clear to me that we were in a Catholic cemetery and when we realized our mistake, we returned to the taxi and drove on.

The Ruins of the Church of St. Paul:
     Five minutes later, we were at Macao’s primary attraction–the one you see in all the pictures that advertise this tourist venue: it is the Church of St. Paul that was built by the Jesuits when they arrived on their proselytizing mission in China. Built in the mid-1600s, it has a typical Portuguese style church façade (of which there are many in Goa). But in 1835, a fire which was the result of a typhoon, swept through the church and left only its façade–which sits high on a hill and is reached by a tower of stone steps.
     Our driver parked our car and gave us ample time to get to the steps and pose for pictures in front of the facade. It is a five-tiered structure, each of which has a distinct motif which, in many cases, combines Christian and Chinese iconography. For example, at the very top is a dove representing the Holy Spirit, on the next tier is the Infant Jesus surrounded by icons of the Crucifixion, then there is the Virgin Mary assumed into heaven and below that the four evangelists. On the third tier, is a Chinese dragon with Our Lady placed on top of it! There are lucky Chinese lions that form gargoyles at the two opposite ends. It was all totally fascinating and we took a bunch of pictures.
     Next, we walked into the body of the church (or what remains of it) and we saw where the columns that once supported the church stood as well as the tombs of those who were buried in it. There are stairs that lead to the first level, but no visitors are allowed to climb it. Next door, is the Museum of Macao but we had no time to get inside. Its lovely stone-walled structure was very evocative of Western colonization.

A Colonial Artist in The Protestant Cemetery:
     Finally, we managed to convey to our driver where we wanted to go: the Protestant Cemetery has mainly British and some Dutch people buried there as the Portuguese considered them heathens and would not permit them to be buried in hallowed Catholic ground! Hence, they had to create their own cemetery and they did.
     My interest in exploring this cemetery was to get to the burial site of George Chinnery, the British artist who spent most of his life in the colonies–in India and China–painting British officials in the 18th and 19th centuries. In India, the best known portrait he painted was of the Anglo-Indian (then known as Eurasian) children of the British Resident of Hyderabad, James Achilles Kirkpatrick and his Muslim Moghul wife, Khair-u-Nissa. As a scholar of Anglo-Indian Studies, I felt privileged to have seen the painting in the collection of HSBC Bank in London (where it was on exhibition a few years ago). Hence, I am familiar with Chinnery’s work and was delighted to be able to see his grave. He died in Macao having also painted portraits of several Portuguese officials.
      
Back on the Ferry:
     So that was it–our visit to Macao was brief but very satisfying indeed. Had I more time in Hong Kong, I would definitely have given it a full day but I was not unhappy with the time we spent there and the tour we got. Nor was I unhappy with the taxi driver who did the best he could for us in the limited time at our disposal. True to his word, he dropped us off at the ferry terminal for the 3.30 pm sailing. We did have to clear Immigration at both ends but we turned out to be early and the conductors allowed us to board the 3. 15 ferry which dropped us off at Hong Kong Island at 4. 15.

Off to Victoria Peak:
     My next port of call was one of Hong Kong’s highlights–Victoria Peak (named for the erstwhile monarch), but now that the British no longer own Hong Kong, it is simply called The Peak. Nora had covered it yesterday and so she left in search of the Museum of History (which is free on Wednesdays). We parted company with plans to re-unite at 7.00 pm in the Lobby of the Peninsula Hotel so that we could explore the Temple Street Night Market later in the day.
      Accordingly, we took the Metro to Central where I went in search of the Bus Terminus while she went to the museum. The No. 15 bus goes straight to The Peak and after a stunning 45 minute bus ride that took me ever higher past some of the most beautiful residential skyscrapers, we were at the Peak.
     My brother Roger had advised me to get there later in the day so that I would get some glimpses of Hong Kong by daylight and then a completely different look once the lights came on. No one could have given me better advice. It was brilliant. I got great views of all of Hong Kong’s major islands–Hong Kong, Kowloon and the New Territories. After a while, I nipped into the Peak Galleria to use the rest rooms and to use the Free Observation Deck there on Level Three. Frankly, I thought the drive up was far more spectacular than the views from the top–which were a bit too far off for me. Still, it is a venue worth seeing.
     About an hour later, I joined a long but very fast-moving line to take the famous Peak Tram that goes up and down on a one-way journey of 8 minutes. Since I had taken the bus up,  I bought a one-way ticket for the tram for HKD 28 and in about 10 minutes, I was on a tram. Darkness had fallen over the city and the buildings were all visually breathtaking as the lighting on them is anything but ordinary. Most people stay up on the Peak until a little past 8.00 pm, when there is a nightly Light Show. About 45 of Hong Kong’s skyscrapers participate in a show that involves dancing, synchronized lights. I did not know about this until a day later or else I would have arranged to meet Nora later. At any rate, it was great to arrive at Central where the tram drops you and walk in the midst of these superbly-illuminated skyscrapers. What a lovely experience!

Off to the Peninsula Hotel:
     Five minutes later, I was in the Metro Station at Central (which, by the way, used to be called Victoria earlier. Similarly, Victoria Harbor is now simply known as Hong Kong Harbor–the Chinese have done a good job wiping off the names of colonial head honchos just as post-colonial India has done). I headed off to Tsim Tsa Tsui Station to walk another ten minutes to get to the Peninsula where Nora was waiting for me in the lobby as we had planned.
     The meeting place was a very fortuitous one as the hotel is one of the great old Asian relics, on par with the Raffles in Singapore or the Peace Hotel in Shanghai. The lobby was beautifully but subtly lit and the lions’ heads and the wooden beam work on the ceiling was grandly emphasized. Taking Afternoon Tea in the Lobby there is a tradition but at nearly HKD 400, I am not sure I want to spend so much on a meal I would take alone.

Off to the Temple Street Night Market:
       The Temple Street Nigh Market is also considered one of the highlights of the city. Nora and I realized that we would need to take the Metro again for one stop to Jordan as it was too much to walk to at the end of our long day. We did just that and after hopping off the train, we were at Temple Street in about five minutes.
      Temple Street is nothing to rave about but it is a great place in which to buy el cheapo souvenirs or gifts to take home. It has all the usual kitsch you can expect. I found my postcards of Hong Kong and Macao and I bought a designer bag. For the price I paid, it can only be a knock off, but who knows–neither I nor those who see me holding the bag ever will!
       After strolling about for another half an hour, Nora and I felt it was time to get home to the hostel–it was about 8.30 pm by then. Half an hour later, we were in our room again ready to kick our shoes off and get some much needed rest. I have to say that I made do again with cookies and honey yoghurt for dinner ( as Nora had grabbed a sandwich somewhere earlier) and a very delicious dinner it was too!
      Until tomorrow, when I get to Manila in the Philippines, bye for now….
     

  

Hello from HongKong. More than just High Towers

Exploring ‘Central’, the Famed Escalators, Man Mo Temple and Stanley:
Monday, Jan 11. 2016: Bombay-Delhi-Hong Kong

         Hong Kong had never been on my Bucket List—to be perfectly honest, few places in Asia are! Still, when the opportunity presented itself, I was more than willing to tick it off my Yet-To-See List. Finally today, at 8.00 pm, I boarded an Air-India flight for Hong Kong. Two hours later, we were in Delhi and another two hours later, we were airborne again.
Tuesday, Jan 12, 2016: Hong Kong
Exploring ‘Central’
         When I awoke at 6.30 am local time, we were in Hong Kong. I had all of three hours sleep—but it was sound. By the time, I disembarked from the aircraft, I was fresh as a daisy and ready to begin my exploration of the city. The airport is an exact replica of the ones I had just passed through in Delhi (which is simply humongous) and Bombay (which has a spiffy new one that is a clone of every other airport around the world). That’s the trouble with globalization: you never know where in the world you are at any given time when you are jet setting!
                 I cleared Immigration fairly quickly, retrieved my baggage from the carousel (I was really glad I had  it in as connecting in Delhi would have been super painful had I been lugging around my wheeled case with me). I picked up a couple of maps (which have more ads from local businesses than any location information—such a joke!), changed currency (currently, you get 7 Hong Kong dollars to a US dollar), and followed signs to the local Bus Stop. I had been instructed by the folks at the Youth Hostel to take the E21 bus from the airport and to get off at Stop 21 which is Yen Chau Street. The buses arrive every 20 minutes and since I had just missed one, I sat in bracing morning temps and awaited the next—which arrived impressively promptly. The bus does not take notes and the bank teller had given me no coins. Luckily for me, a sweet girl on the bus gave me change and for HKD14, I was on my way, The ride took 1 hour and dropped me about a 7 minute walk from the youth hostel which I was very easily able to locate through a map that I printed out from Google Maps. It is amazing today how easily I can find my way around the world without speaking a word of the local lingo—thanks to the internet. Talking of which, although I expected English to be far more widespread than it is, few people actually speak the language here. However, all signage is in dual script which is a huge boon to the traveler.
            Check-in time at Mei Ho Youth Hostel is 4 pm—so I did what I do whenever I arrive too early at my destinations—I stashed my baggage in the Left Luggage Locker Room and was off. It was about 8. 30 am by then and I was starving. Fortunately, the youth Hostel has a lovely Dining Room with a choice of 4 kinds of breakfasts: American, English, Chinese and Hong Kong. I chose the Chinese and received a big bowl of congee and two pork momos (rice flour dumplings filled with minced pork) and coffee (my choice instead of the Chinese jasmine tea which usually comes with the Chinese brekkie). I have to say that I had my doubts about the congee which looked awfully bland—but when I tasted the first spoonful, it was delicious. Doctored with a bit of chilli sauce, it was even better. Bits of chicken and fish floated in it as did coriander leaves and fresh ginger. The momos were also tasty and very filling indeed. I was ready to face a day on my feet.
Exploring ‘Central’:
               Of the many reasons I repeatedly choose to stay in youth hostels is that they are so centrally located, extremely safe and always staffed by youngsters who can speak English. Taking directions from the Receptionist, I found my way to the Subway station (called MTR here—short for Metro) and bought an Octopus card. This is similar to London’s Oyster Card—you top up as you use it. Each customer pays HKD50 as a deposit but you will get it refunded when you return the card. With HKD100 in the card and a metro map in my hand, I was off.
                I got off at ‘Central’ which is in downtown Hong Kong. When you emerge from the Metro, you are at Statue Square—so-called because its focus is a sculpture of Lord Jackson who ran the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation for years and put the country on the world financial map. Fittingly, the HSBC building, designed by Britain’s late Norman Foster, dominates the square. In fact, three skyscrapers make their presence felt at this point: apart from the HSBC building, there is the Mandarin Hotel (which was once the tallest building in the city) and the Bank of China Tower (designed by the Chinese-American architect, I.M. Pei) which is crisscrossed with decorative stripes that cut across it—talk about ‘cutting edge’ design!
              After I rode the escalators at the HSBC Building (just so I could tell Llew I had been inside it!) and rubbed the paws of the twin lions named Stephen and Stitt that guard the entrance (named for the two bigwigs of the bank—a Mr. Stephen in Hong Kong and a Mr. Stitt  in Shanghai), I left. Incidentally, the HSBC Building at London’s Canary Wharf has replicas of these two lions guarding its front. (Must make it a point to look for them when next I am there!).
               Across the street in a verdant park is an exact replica of Sir Edwin Lutyens’ Cenotaph as stands in London’s Whitehall. Designed as a memorial for ‘The Glorious Dead’ of World War I, it came into its own after World War II when so many thousands joined the ranks of the fallen. In Hong Kong, it represents the Chinese who died fighting for the British in WWI and then the Chinese who died fighting against the British as colonial power grew more crushing. Standing at the Cenotaph, I could see the Hong Kong Observation Wheel (which is an exact replica of the London Eye). I think you get my drift—all over the world, it is not just advertisements and merchandise that are identical, but now monuments as well!!! No wonder we have no idea where in the world we are!
            Another lovely old relic of Hong Kong’s colonial past in this area is the Old Supreme Court Building—a domed, colonnaded edifice that looks completely at odds amidst the glass and concrete jungle that has sprouted up around it. I took in these lovely sights and then decided to follow my guide books to take the elevator to the 43rd floor of I.M. Pei’s Bank of China Tower to the Observation Deck for great views of the city. Only when I got there, I was informed that it is now permanently closed to the public (since last May)! Disappointed, I began to walk in the direction of what is known as the Tri-Level or Mid-Level Escalators.
Riding the Mid-Level Escalators:
                 The Escalators get a great deal of coverage in guide books and they are significant in a curious kind of way. First of all, Hong Kong, like Rio, is composed of a series of islands many of which are hills and mountains. All human habitation clings to the slopes of mountains. Hence, the escalators make sense as they allow you to get from one level to the next without expending too much sweat equity. As you ride this series of mechanized walkways, you skim the streets below, climb ever higher and get bird’s eye views of the goings-on down below. Built in 1993, this purely practical device has gained tourist attention and is now something every visitor must do while in the city.

Visiting the Man Mo Temple:
           I had decided, after seeing dozens and dozens of temples in Japan, that I was going to select just two or three temples in Hong Kong. And I need not have worried. The Hong Kong Chinese seem less religious than their Japanese counterparts: there are very few temples and all the guide books tell you to visit just one of them: Man Mo Temple on Hollywood Street which is easily reached when you hop off the escalator at the very top. A ten minute walk takes you to a very old temple complex that was built in the 1840s and wears its age very proudly in the midst of the other modern buildings that surround it. Inside it, I learned that Man is the short form for the word Mandarin which means writer or book keeper (I had no idea!) and the deity is therefore always seen with a pen in his hand. Mo is the God of War and the two are always worshipped together. Somehow the saying, The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword’ leaps to my mind in this curious juxtaposition of deities.
               The smell of incense is strong inside as devotees buy joss stciks to burn as they pray for their children and their need to make good grades! Loads of visual interest inside can also keep one’s camera clicking…but note that it is a working temple and there were lots of people praying, leaving offerings of fruit and candy to the gods and burning incense. Certainly worth seeing and having seen this one, I did not feel the need to visit any more temples on this trip!
Lunch in a ‘Cooked Food Center’:                  
          By this point it was 1. 30 pm and I was hungry. There is only so far you can get on a bowl of congee! Not knowing where I was going to eat or what I was going to buy, I passed a building close to the temple complex with a most interesting name: The Cooked Food Center! I saw a lot of people going inside and a lot coming out—and I thought, heck, why not? They say that when you travel, if you want the best food, you should eat where the locals eat. Well, let me tell you, I followed the crowd, up the escalator, past the market below from which the strong smell of fish emanated and gradually disappeared as we climbed higher.
              On the third floor, we were in a gigantic hall filled to the rafters with mainly young people deep in their bowls of broth and rice noodles. There must have been at least a thousand people in that place—all young, all professional, all hungry. I was the only non-Oriental person in that space and I did not know the first thing about what to order or who to order from!
            Luckily I found a girl who could barely make herself understood to me in English. I simply told her to tell the waitress that I would have what she was having as the menu was not in English. It was a giant bowl of what looked like Vietnamese pho—a flavorful broth with a fried egg and two large slices of (yes, seriously) canned luncheon meat! That said, it was very delicious and at less than HKD 22 (about US3), I simply couldn’t go wrong. Half way through it, I realized, I could not eat any more noodles. Filled to bursting, I went in search of a bus that would take me to my next destination—Stanley!

The Charms of Stanley:
     By this time, I was feeling the ill effects of lack of sleep as well as fatigue for I had been on my feet since 9 am. I would rather have taken public transport than walked and when a passer-by suggested I walk towards the International Financial Center and Exchange Square to take a bus to Stanley, I agreed. I hopped into the Metro at a small stop and got off at Central and followed exit signs to Exchange Square where I found the Bus Terminus. There, I followed directions in my guide book and hopped into the No. 6 bus to Stanley (the last stop). It was like deja-vu all over again—as I got on to the upper decker and took the seat right in front (under advice from my brother Roger who knows Hong Kong well). He warned me that there is nothing much at the destination but the ride is lovely—so I should try to bag that seat. And he was so right.
              Sitting in the front, I had my favorite views of the city—from the upper deck of a bus. However, I have to admit that I nodded off to sleep quite often and completely missed the entry and exit from the famous Aberdeen Tunnel that goes under the sea. Still, when I did awake, we were in one of the most elite and expensive parts of the city. Populated mainly by white expatriates and their Filipina maids and nannies, this area is a series of high rise towers that overlook the water for Stanley lies at the tip of Hong Kong island. It is a former British colonial stronghold and has a fort and an army barracks there—called Murray House—which is today a building filled with upscale restaurants that offer water views. I did enter Murray House to admire its colonial architecture (it too is double storeyed like the Supreme Court building) and its ambience and then made my way to Stanley Market.
           Usually buzzing during the weekends, it was quieter today but you can still get very good designer knock-offs here, wonderful silk goods like scarves and ties from China and tons of pearls and jade. I took a quick look at the wares and then walked through Stanley Plaza which is a more modern version of the older bazaar—this one is a mall and has all the trappings of such places. Shopping is an obsession in Hong Kong and there is no dearth of places to spend your money if you are that way inclined.
            Back on the No. 6 Bus to Central, I was seriously in need of some rest. Needless to say, I napped on the bus again but not at the tunnel and before I knew it, darkness had fallen over the city and I was ready to head back to the hostel to actually check in and relax in my dorm. I hopped off the bus at Admiralty, one stop before Central and found my way back on the red line. Hong Kong is very like any Chinatown anywhere in the world with a lot of the wares occupying not just the shop itself but the pavement outside it. There are lights galore—the running kind—what my mother used to call “Jig Big Lights” and they give every street the exact same look—so that you can get well and truly lost if you do not have a map and don’t know where you are going when you emerge out of the metro station.
              Fortunately, I did have my map with me and with very little difficulty, I found my bearings and was in the hostel by 7. 15, checked in and found my very comfortable 4-bed dorm—two bedrooms with two beds each and an attached bath. My roomie was a girl from the Netherlands named Nora who is also traveling around Asia alone—she is in her late-teens from what I can tell. We chatted a bit and I discovered that she covered today all the places I intend to do tomorrow.
 It was time for a shower and I loved the one I had—hot, steamy, very refreshing. My dinner was two kinds of cookies from Marks and Spencer (Pistachio and Almond and Belgian Chocolate) with a tub of Honey Yogurt and with that I felt full and ready to blog, do a bit of reading about places I will be seeing tomorrow and get to bed.
             Thanks for following me on my travels once again. For the moment, I say Bye for now and until tomorrow…            

Final Day in London: Museums, Theater, Slap-Up Dinner

Saturday, July 18, 2015: London

Fitting Final Features Into Our Last Full Day in London:

            And so it dawned! Our sad final day in London because all great things must come to an end. We awoke to finish up packing and dividing the weight we had acquired into the four suitcases we are allowed between the two of us by our airline. A quick breakfast of coffee and cereal in order to help us finish our supplies in the fridge, saw us shower and dress and leave. The first item on our agenda was getting to the Savoy Theater in the Strand in the West End to pick up day tickets to see Gypsy.

 Off to Pick Up Tickets for Gypsy:

            We resolved to get out of the flat in Holborn by 9. 30 am in order to be at the theater at 10.00 am when day tickets are distributed for most London plays at a considerable discount and much cheaper than rates at the TKTS stand at Leicester Square. A brisk walk to Fleet Street to jump into the No. 15 Routemaster …and within minutes we were outside the Savoy Hotel that has recently undergone a massive renovation. Just outside is the Savoy Theater and it was to its Box office that we were headed. We got there at 9. 50 am and had a 10 minute wait with about 6 folks ahead of us in the queue.

            It is hard to believe that with the huge number of items on our program on this visit, we had not yet been to the theater. And with the vast number of offerings around plus the fact that we had not pre-booked, making a choice was easy. I thought a musical would be far better than pure drama—more entertaining, more of a range of talent on display. Neither one of us had seen Gypsybefore—a saga about the entertainer Gypsy Rose Lee set on the West coast of America. What sold me on the show as the presence of British thespian Imelda Staunton whom I have seen on the screen (Vera Drake) and on the stage before in Joe Orton’s Entertaining Mr. Sloan at the Trafalgar Studios a couple of years ago in London. In my humble opinion, she has the caliber of a Judi Dench or a Maggie Smith and it is only the lack of a truly breakout show so far that has not catapulted her into international stardom.  I was certain that a show that headlined this actress could never be anything other than outstanding. Besides, the show had Peter Davison in a lead role too—he is the darling Tristan of the TV series All Creatures Great and Small and in more recent years, we have seen him on TV in The Last Detective.  Two great stars. How could we go wrong? When we snagged two tickets, ten minutes later, at the bargain price of 25 pounds each for 70 pound seats, our joy knew no bounds.

In Search of Oscar:

            With tickets under our belt for the 2. 30 pm matinee show, we had the time to saunter across The Strand to the National Portrait Gallery. But before we arrived there, I had another small mission to accomplish. Our friend Barbara and our hostess for our stay in London had set me a challenge: she expected me to go out and find the bench/chaise longue/sarcophagus (depending on how you want to look at it) of 19thcentury playwright and dandy Oscar Wilde which was somewhere on Adelaide Street. When she explained to me where I would find it, I knew exactly where to look.

And five minutes later, we came upon it on a side street just behind the Church of St. Martin-In-The-Fields. We took our pictures with Oscar who is sculpted in rather gruesome vein to allow varied interpretation: he could be emerging from his own coffin to enter into conversation with anyone who would care to share cerebral space with him—a convenient bench, as it were, is attached to his bust to enable just such an objective.  Llew did the honors—taking pictures of me facing Mr. Wilde for the sculpture is entitled “In Conversation with Oscar Wilde”. That done, we headed off.

Mission Well Accomplished! Barbara would receive a tweeted version of one of the pix as soon as wifi connections permitted.

 Re-Visiting Members of the Bloomsbury Group at the National Portrait Gallery:

            Ever since I finished reading Priya Parmar’s excellent book Vanessa And Her Sister, I had a little secret item on my Wish List for my next visit to London. Her book had caught me up so profoundly with the lives of the members of the Bloomsbury Group that I had resolved to visit the home at No. 51 Gordon Square where the famous Thursday Evening meetings were held for several years by the sisters, Virginia and Vanessa Stevens—later Virginia Woolf and Vanessa Bell. Close friends who happened to share intellectual interests that included literature, art, biography, history and economics, their interconnections were cemented by their marriages and intimate relationships with each other—some heterosexual, many gay. I had visited the 20th century galleries at the National Portrait Gallery before but since we had not found the time to get to Gordon Square on this visit, I was keen to re-visit these figures through the portraits that were produced of them by their own friends.

            When I told Llew of my mission, he was game to accompany me—and we set off straight for the first floor to the galleries that deal with Britain around the period of World War I. There they were—all my favorite writers (E.M. Forster, Virginia Woolf, Lytton Strachey) and there were their portraits by their own friends (Duncan Grant, Vanessa Bell, Dora Carrington). Re-visiting this gallery gave us the opportunity to examine other portraits from the period and I was pleasantly surprised to come upon a sculpted bust of Nehru by Jacob Epstein—not the most complimentary representation but it was a master sculptor’s work.

            On the lower floor, I led Llew to the controversial portrait of Katherine Middleton, now the Duchess of Cambridge, by Paul Elmsley that has drawn so much flak for the aged, grey-faced, almost ugly woman he has depicted. Llew was not impressed. We also looked at Bhupen Khakar’s portrait of Salman Rushdie and some new photographic portraits of the Queen taken at her Diamond Jubilee. Finally, we ended our visit by examining a selection of portraits of National Portrait Gallery’s Director Roy Strong who has donned costumes and had his pictures taken in depictions of famous paintings. When we had seen enough, we used the rest rooms and then raced off again.

 A Highlights Tour of the National Gallery:

      No marks for guessing where we were next headed! How can I possibly leave London without going to the National Gallery and saying Hello to all my favorite friends? It is simply a no-brainer. Since it was nearing 11. 30 am, it made sense to take the hour-long Highlights Tour that starts from the Sainsbury Wing of the Museum. It gave me a few minutes to browse in the gift shop before joining a group of about 15 people to listen to the docent introduce himself and begin his tour. Llew and I took the elevator to the second floor where most tours begin and for the next one hour, we gave ourselves up entire to the expertise of the guide who took us chronologically through the following paintings:

1.      Carlo Crivelli: The Annunication with St. Emidius (1486). I discovered the talent and work of Crivelli at the National Gallery several years ago and have been enchanted by him ever since. A Venetian Renaissance artist, he was banished by the Establishment for apparent homosexual leanings. Hence, his work remains practically unknown and certainly unseen even in Italy. The National Gallery has an outstanding collection of his canvases, each more stunning than the next, for the multiplicity of symbols, the plethora of detail and the astounding realism that he brings to his subjects. I adore his work and was absolutely delighted that Llew got a chance to see one of his works as well.

2.      History of the Wohl Room(Gallery 9—1911). The guide used this splendidly decorated central room in the Museum to tell us a bit about the history of the National Gallery and its acquisitions.   

3.      Joachim Beuckelaer: The Four Elements—Earth(1560s, Antwerp). In a round room in the Museum, four works by Beuckelaer find a perfect permanent place. I have also always adored these Flemish paintings for their realism and abundance of detail. They represent the four elements by providing still lifes of items associated with them. For example, Earth is a representation of fruit and vegetable in all their appetizing detail; Air is a reproduction of birds and game fowl;  Fire is a representation of meat that is cooked through the use of fire before being consumed; and Water takes us into the deep—to the abundance of finned life that provides sustenance at our tables. The guide focused on Earth and only drew the attention of the audience to the other three paintings at the end of his commentary. I wished he had done so sooner as visitors could well have looked at them too as the room is very compact and could easily encourage comparison.

4.      Anthony Van Dyke: Lord John Stuart and His Brother Lord Bernard Stuart (About 1638). This lovely double portrait presents the sons of Charles I—the Heir standing slightly taller than his brother, the Spare! Both brothers fought on the Royalist side in the Civil War and were killed. We had seen a smaller version of a double portrait of them at Highclere Castle, two days previously. Not just renowned for his mastery of portraiture, Van Dyke being a Flemish artist was also neutral in his portrayal of English royalty.

5.      Anthony Van Dyke: Portrait of Charles I. Just besides the portrait of his sons is the famous huge equestrian one of Charles I himself also by Van Dyke—again, a similar one is in the Dining Room at Highclere Castle and we had admired it only very recently.

6.      Gallery 36—The Main Domed Room. The guide spoke about the elaboration of the interior decoration in this room and although he did not point to any paintings, he did talk about the stature that the National Gallery enjoys internationally and the manner in which it sees its mission to bring an awareness of quality paintings to the world.

7.      William Hogarth: Marriage A La Mode (1743). This series of 6 paintings is almost like a series of cartoons in that Hogarth pokes fun of the custom of marrying for money rather than for love. The guide focused on just one of them but referred to all six in passing and explained Hogarth’s penchant for satire through Art.

8.      Claude Monet: Bathers a La Grenouilliere(1869). The tour ended with a visit to the Impressionist section and a work by Monet in which I learned why the lake in which the bathers are seen taking a dunk is referred to as a frog-pond (La Grenouilliere in French). It turns out that it is a reference to the three women depicted hazily in the paintings and wearing the latest fashion in bathing suits—suits cut daringly to reveal their calves! They were, therefore, thought to resemble frogs—which is why the pool they swam in came to be known as the frog-pond! Hey, live and learn. Each time I take a guided art tour I learn something new—which is why they never fail to fascinate me.

It was a very good and a very satisfying hour indeed. But I simply could not leave the National Gallery without saying Hello to my favorite painting of them all: Courtyard of a House in Delft by Pieter de Hooch. Taking directions from a guard, we found it in Gallery 28 right besides the Vermeers and yet not in the slightest bit eclipsed by it.  But by 12. 30 pm, I was ravenous and ready to eat something urgently. I have realized that ignoring my hunger pangs only leads to a headache and I wanted to avoid that. I, therefore, led Llew down to the Gallery Café for one of my favorite of English treats: a slice of Coffee Walnut Cake. Llew did not wish to eat cake at mid-day and opted to simply watch me relish mine He decided to pick up a more substantial lunch somewhere down the road.

 Off to Flanders Field Memorial Garden:

            There was little time to spare after I had gobbled up my cake—we were meeting one of my former NYU students, Kent, who is now a friend of mine and someone I see almost every time I come to London. Kent, who has worked for Lloyds Bank in London for about five years, is returning to Hongkong to join his father’s business. Hence, he was particularly keen that we should meet this time as it is not certain when we will meet again.

            I chose the Guards Museum on Birdcage Walk for our meeting as I was keen to see the Flanders Field Memorial Garden that adjoins it. It was inaugurated by the Queen last year to coincide with the centenary of the outbreak of World War I in 1914. Somehow I expected it to me much larger and more elaborate than it turned out to be.

Llew and I rushed into the Tube at Charing Cross with the idea of making a connection to the District or Circle Line only to discover that weekend track work had disrupted the service (as it is wont to do). With no time to waste, we hailed a black cab and made it to the venue to find Kent waiting for us. Llew has also heard a lot about Kent from me and was happy to meet him for the first time. We spent the next hour with Kent as we inspected the Garden and took pictures of it. Named for the famous poem, “In Flanders Field the Poppies Blew” by John McCray, it comprises a large disc that has the entire poem engraved around it. This is a poem that every British school kid knows by heart—it is heart breaking and it is especially significant for me as I have followed the Poppy Trail in Picardy, France, and have seen how, to this day, poppies continue to bloom in the fields where trenches were once dug to conceal enemy troops and where an entire generation of young men was lost to the genocide that is warfare.             

We then walked at a leisurely pace to Parliament Square which was just buzzing with tourists on a particularly gorgeous day. It is amazing how towards the end of our stay the weather came through brilliantly for us and made our sauntering memorable. At Whitehall, we jumped into a bus that would sail down The Strand and bring us to the Savoy Theater just in time for a quick bite of lunch before our 2. 30 matinee show of Gypsy. We chose EAT as the most convenient place for pies and a sandwich and throughout this time, we chatted with Kent about his future plans. But by 2. 20, we bid him goodbye and raced across the street to the Savoy Theater.


Watching Gypsy—An Outstanding Musical:

            And what a fantastic three hours followed for us! In every sense of the word, the show was outstanding and Imelda Staunton was simply phenomenal. In what turned out to be a lovely story of the arduous nature of showbiz life, the hopes and dreams of one mother for her brood of kids, her complicated relationship with her agent (played by Davison) and her more complicated relationship with her daughters, June (Gemma Sutton) and Louise (Lara Pulver), the show kept us riveted. Staunton is truly a woman of multiple talents and while I had little doubt about her dramatic powers, her ability to sing and dance the way she did on stage simply blew me away. The house was packed, our seats were fabulous, Llew loved every second of it as much as I did and between the two of us, we were simply thrilled to have seen such a quality show and been so unexpectedly enthralled by it. Since there was only one show we had the time to see on this visit, we were besides ourselves to have caught this one.

Taking the Bus to see The Shard:

     There was one last thing we had to do before we returned home to shower, dress and get ready for our dinner appointment: I was keen to take Llew over to the South Bank so that he could see one of the newest attractions on the London skyline, The Shard. This is the conical tower that juts out into the sky on the South Bank. Viewing the city from its observation deck is a pricey business and we had no intentions of getting up there. However, it was worth jumping off the bus at St. Paul’s, crossing Wobbly Bridge (the Millennium Bridge) and getting closer to the skyscraper. Llew was glad to have done so but did not want to spend any more time on the South Bank. So we simply walked back through Paternoster Square to take a bus to High Holborn that got us there in 15 minutes.

 A Slap-Up Dinner at Simpson’s-On-The-Strand:

            I have wanted to dine at Simpson’s ever since I heard about it through an episode of As Time Goes Byon TV. But I also knew that it was a fancy, fine-dining kind of place that called for jackets in the Dining Hall. This meant that I would need to wait for Llew to arrive in London with me to be able to enjoy its offerings.

            Simpsons, it turns out, is also a bit of a London institution. It was originally opened in 1828 as a chess club in Piccadilly (where the Waterstone’s Bookshop is currently located). Since it was thought unwise to disturb chess games while in progress, it was decided to bring roast meats to the tables in silver-domed wheeled trolleys—a tradition that continues to this day.

            I had made a reservation for 7. 30 pm and we arrived just a few minutes after a lovely stroll from home to the restaurant on an evening that was made for walking. Seated at a table for four, we studied the brief menu and came to our decisions. We were taking our hosts Tim and Barbara for dinner and as Llew studied the wine list and chose a bottle of red Cabernet for the table, we made our choices. Barbara had the potted shrimp, Tim the sweetbreads  for starters while Llew and I decided to skip a starter and go directly to the main. With the compliments of the chef,  however, the waiter brought us demi-tasse cups of a chilled gazpacho that was absolutely divine—how thoughtful! Our guests both chose the Dover Sole for their main while Llew went for the Stuffed Pork Tenderloin and I chose the Roast Saddle of Lamb—I, therefore, had the privilege of being served table-side by a master carver who skillfully cut slices off a joint of meat and placed them on my plate together with redcurrant jelly and mint sauce. They came with superbly roasted potatoes and savoy cabbage. Everything was simply scrumptious. We all passed on dessert but ordered cups of coffee instead and with the conversation around the table never flagging for a single moment, we had a truly nice evening with our warm and generous hosts whose company we also thoroughly enjoy.

            It was still lovely outside as we walked through the West End’s theater lights and billboards for the short walk home. All that was left was to bid our hosts goodnight and goodbye as we had a very early start the next morning and would not be disturbing them as we sneaked out of their flat.

            The day had been very full but very exciting and it had ended on the nicest possible note. As always, we were sorry to leave London, but we had crowned an unforgettable safari in Africa with a splendid stay in our favorite city and we were not sorry to be returning home.

            As we finalized our packing, tidied, cleared and cleaned our room and bathroom and undertook the last-minute chores we needed to complete before our departure, we agreed that it was a week superbly spent and that it could not possibly have gone any better.

            Thanks for following me once again on this incredible summer tour of Africa and the UK. Although writing this journal is something I do as much for my own pleasure as or those who read it, I am always aware that you have a busy schedule and that you do me the honor of sharing some part of your day with me as you armchair-travel in my company. For that I am truly grateful.

Until I don my traveling shoes again, I say Cheerio!   

Thames Path Walk from Putney to Hammersmith And Fun Times with Friends

Friday, July 17, 2015:

The Thames Path Walk from Putney to Hammersmith and Fun Times with Friends

            On yet another pre-dawn rising, I awoke to the discovery that the cold that had plagued me for the past three days was history. It left residual signs of a cough behind, but, for the most part, my familiar high-energy levels returned and I was ready to rock and roll. And good job too! For the day promised glorious sunshine and perfect mid-summer temps—read no humidity and the coolest of breezes playing off the river.

Morning Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral:

            With the sun shining down on High Holborn outside my window, it seemed like the perfect morning to leave Llew at his lie-in and get to St. Paul’s Cathedral for Mass—something I did want to fit in on this trip. By 7.40 am, I climbed into casuals and rode the elevator downstairs. When a No.8 arrived, in a couple of minutes, I hopped right into it, and within five minutes, I was in St. Paul’s Cathedral where I have worshipped at daily Mass on countless occasions. In the little side Chapel, there were just 2 other folks when I arrived and within five minutes. Mass began—said, as it is done apparently every Friday—by the Bishop of London, Richard Chartres, whom I have had the privilege of meeting on a couple of occasions in the past through my friend Bishop Colclough (not that I expected him to remember me at all!).

Still, it felt odd to attend a Mass at which I was one of four members in the congregation. Later on, after Mass began, a couple of black women joined in, but it was a very quiet service indeed although beautifully said by the Bishop. For me, being at Mass in this beloved church, was an opportunity to thank the Lord yet again for the gift of my health and for bringing me again to my most beloved of cities.

              Outside, on the Square, Life raced on as office-goers clutching their coffees, entered corporate buildings to begin their day. I took the bus back for two stops and joined Llew, who had awoken for Brekkie of Sainsbury Fruit and Nut Muesli with Yogurt and coffee. We showered, got dressed and left High Holborn for the Tube ride to Putney Bridge for we were going to mess about on the river. At Putney, which is essentially a part of the city of London although it was once thought of as the countryside, the river takes on a countrified air and the suburbs that embrace its banks are upper crust: Hammersmith, Barnes, Chiswick, Kew, and finally the ritziest of them all, Richmond. The Plan of Action was to get to Putney and then start the stroll along the Thames Path all the way to Richmond—approximately 10 miles. From Richmond, we would take the Tube back home. Llew was game: we both donned comfortable walking shoes, our hats, carried bottles of water and we were off. This was something I had never done before—so I was doubly glad to have Llew’s company and to share the river with him.

Thames Path Walk from Putney to Hammersmith:

            So we Tubed it to Putney and using a local map at the Tube station, found our way to the River Thames. There is a Thames Tow Path on the opposite side but it is not as accessible as the Thames Path which provides for both walkers and cyclists. Although the walk we were roughly following started on the opposite side, we chose to stroll along the bank that passed by Bishop’s Garden and Fulham Palace. If one were to walk on the opposite bank, one would come across a plaque marking the start of the famous annual Oxford VS Cambridge Boat Race.

            As it turned out, we found ourselves walking on one of the loveliest pathways we could have taken. It was asphalted and lined by enormous London plane trees that were probably planted in the 1700s when the Embankments were built—walled and lined with brick to prevent flooding. The trees create marvelous dappled shade as their branches spread their embracing arms out to the sky. In-between each grand plane tree, there were fruit trees that were laden with sweet small stoned fruit that tasted plum-like: a cross between cherries and plums. I put a few dark red ones in my mouth and they were delicious but then because I could not really identify the fruit, I stopped eating—the last thing I wanted was to be poisoned!

Bishop’s Garden:

            Bishop’s Garden is so-called because it borders the property belonging to the Bishops of Fulham who once occupied Fulham Palace which was the official residence of the Bishop of London. We were delighted to find the Garden well-used mainly by toddlers and their mothers who had brought them out to enjoy a particularly fabulous day. There were amusement areas with swings and sliders and see-saws. There were sand pits where kids were hard at work building castles. In one part of the garden, there were fountains and a sand bank so kids could pretend they were at the beach. They could fill their pails with water, wet the sand with it and create more sand pies. The entire operation was a delight to observe. Loads of dogs and their walkers bounded along, there were strollers like us and there were joggers and cyclists. Londoners were making the most of a lovely day and getting some fresh air and exercise in the process.

Fulham Palace:

            As we walked, we noticed Barnes’ London Wetland Center on the opposite bank—evident by the lush green plantings that line the Thames Bank. On our side, there was the entrance to Fulham Palace which I had visited a few years ago when my friend Shahnaz and her daughter Azra were in London from Bombay at the same time that I was. We had taken the Tube and buses to get to the Palace entrance. This time, Llew and I walked in through the lovely Tudor Gateways and across the shallow dry moat to enter the property. Built in the Tudor period, the old buildings that comprise the Palace are merely a museum today. The gardens are open for the pleasure of passers-by and we stepped in to use the rest rooms as well as take in the two rooms that were once the Library and Drawing Room of the Bishops who had occupied the building. We walked out into the sunshine to enjoy purple wisteria vines climbing the burnt brown Tudor walls. There were lots of opportunities to take pictures in a lovely brick courtyard with its fountain and its urns filled with summer’s hydrangeas.

            Leaving Fulham Palace behind us, we continued along the Thames Path. The banks were soon lined with yuppie blocks of flats with glass panes offering uninhibited views of the river. And what views they were too! In the distance, we could already see the green expanse of ornamental Hammersmith Bridge spanning the river which at low tide had distinct beaches on both sides. There were dozens of crew on the river practicing their oarsmanship. There was also abundant bird life and we saw ducks of every kind. And every so often we heard planes flying low overhead. This made us realize that were definitely on the Heathrow Flight Path and I could quite understand that because I have had dozens of sightings of the Thames’ bridges upon take off or landing into Heathrow and it is always the Thames that provides for me the point of reference I need to enable me to grasp my location. For example, on landing into Heathrow on this trip, from the aircraft I got a brilliant picture of the Chinese Pagoda in an expanse of green and I knew immediately that we were flying over Kew Gardens because I could also see Hammersmith Bridge from above.

            Occasionally, we had to get off the Thames Path and take an interior detour and when we did so, we added more interest to our wandering. For we passed by beautiful Victorian terraced housing with its lovely exterior carved details that I always find fascinating. We also passed by pubs and tea rooms and coffee shops for the area has been taken over by young London professionals who make a pretty buck or two and are looking for close proximity to the city in their accommodation.

Viewing Harrod’s Depository:

But soon we were back on the river and within sighting distance of Hammersmith. On the opposite bank, we saw the famous Harrods’ Depository that was erected in 1894 in the same golden stone that forms the façade of the department store in Knightsbridge. It was built on the site of a candle factory mainly for the benefit of British families returning from long stints of Empire-building who would store their belongings here and live in a temporary Harrods’ flat in the back of the Brompton Road store whilst looking for a permanent home in London. The river frontage is a famous Boat Race landmark and since the building has a silhouette and a color similar to the Knightsbridge store, TV viewers are often confused when the commentator announces that the crews are “passing Harrods”. The outer façade of the building has the words ‘furniture’, ‘Harrdos’ and ‘upholstery’ on it and, oftentimes, orders placed at the Knightsbridge store are dispatched directly from this venue.


Lunch at Food Market at Hammersmith:

Once we arrived at Hammersmith Bridge, we decided to go out in search of lunch. We had been walking for two hours and had covered 5 miles with the various detours we had made en route. We decided at this point to cut our plans short and to leave the Thames Path segment from Hammersmith to Richmond for a future visit to London.
We needed to get something to drink as well as lunch and as we walked away from the river and towards the Hammersmith Tube station which also houses a shopping mall, we noticed large numbers of young folk carrying take-away food containers with them and heading for the lawns of the Church of St. Paul at Hammersmith. I inquired of one group of office-goers and he directed me to “a big food market just around the corner”. We dodged traffic around the islands of Hammersmith and found the Food Market in the plaza outside the Kings Mall. As we surveyed the offerings, we were stunned: every kind of takeaway ethnic meal was available. We had a choice of Polish kielbasa sausage on a roll, Jamaican jerk chicken, Argentinian empanadas, Indo-Pak rice and various curries, Chinese noodles, Vietnamese pho, Korean barbecue, German bratwurst, Greek souvlakis—you name it, they had it. We decided to get a large serving of the Mediterranean Mezze Luncheon which had a little bit of everything: Zaatar Chicken flavored with sumac served over couscous with every kind of sauce poured over it: tahini (sesame paste), lebnez (spicy yogurt sauce), cucumber tzasiki, chick peas, a bean salad, olives and pomegranate salad, dolmas (rice stuffed vine leaves). We bought a can of Diet Coke and taking our heavy food offerings with us to the gardens at St. Paul’s Church, we found ourselves a lovely place to picnic on a day that was made for enjoying the sunshine.

Since Hammersmith Mall was so conveniently located, we walked into M&S to do some food shopping as well as into Sainsbury and then laden again with our buys, we took the Tube home to relieve ourselves of the load. Back home, we decided to take a short nap until our next appointments.


Tea at Peter Jones with Roz:

            I had not yet met one of my closest London friends Rosemary (whom I know as Roz) yet as she had been busy with a conference she was organizing. It was her suggestion that we meet at the café on the top floor of the famous department store called Peter Jones at Sloan Square in Chelsea as she had about two hours to spare before rushing off to her next appointment. Besides, we had a dinner appointment close by with our friends the Colcloughs who lived on Sloan Street—overall, it was the most convenient venue for a natter, a cup of tea and a scone with clotted cream and strawberry jam and I made the most of it.

            Roz was waiting by the splendid picture windows in the rooftop cafes when we got there. We admired the view for a while taking in the domes and spires of well-known landmarks that seemed near enough to touch. We picked up lovely pots of tea—a most civilized way of serving the beverage and somewhat unknown in the States—and sat down for a long catch up. Time simply flew and with Llew around, a rare appendage, he was a very avid part of the conversation as well. But soon it was time to leave and Roz hightailed it off to her next appointment.

I left Llew on a bench watching shoppers at Sloan Square as I hurried off to Waitrose on The King’s Road for more food supplies to carry back to the US and about half an hour later, the two of us were walking to our next port of call.

Dinner with the Colcloughs:

            We were ringing the bell at Grosvenor Court not too long after and had a lovely and very affectionate reunion with our friends Bishop Michael and his wife Cynthia dressed nattily in a Singaporean sarong kebaya. As Michael had recently recovered from surgery, we asked after his health. They suggested we take a walk in the garden downstairs for their building is one that surrounds Cadogan Square (coincidentally this is exactly the venue in which my American friends the Hardings had once spent several years in London). The gardens were fully laden with blooms and we enjoyed the agapanthus, tall hollyhocks, roses, fragrant bushels of lavender. We passed by the tennis courts and walked beneath the giant spreading trees that give the squares and their gardens so much character in London.

            And then we were back home enjoying wine and a G&T for me and sitting to one of Cynthia’s typically English meals: excellent Shepherd’s Pie with vegetable slaw and for dessert, there was Eton Mess: that interesting English concoction of fresh strawberries, crumbled meringues and cream or ice-cream which we enjoyed with coffee. During the evening, we were joined by the Colclough boys, Edward and Aidan, both up and coming lawyers, and in catching up with them, we had a most interesting time among some of our fondest London friends.

            It was way past 10.30 pm, when we left to walk to Knightsbridge Tube station to return home to High Holborn and at 11. 00 pm, we called it a night. Our stay in London was swiftly drawing to an end and with just one more day and night to go before we departed, we were determined to cram it well with all the things we wished to accomplish.

            Until tomorrow, cheerio!     

Spending A Day at Downton Abbey: Highclere Castle, Bampton & Wolvercote

Thursday, July 16, 2015:

Hightailing it Off to Highclere Castle—and Bampton —and Wolvercote, near Oxford!

            I have wanted to visit Highclere Castle for years—at least five years—and finally the day had dawned when we would make yet another dream come true! The sprawling estate is the setting of the fictional world of Downton Abbey to which Llew and I have become attached over the past five years. Occupied over the centuries by the families of the Earls of Carnavron, it became the preferred location site for the series because writer Julian Fellows happened to be a friend of the current Earl. After having successfully produced Gosford Park, set on another English country estate, he always hoped that his next venture would be set in Highclere. The opportunity presented itself when he launched Downton. No one ever dreamed it would become the runaway global megahit it became—but it has put Highclere Castle on the map and saved the ageing building from decline. Revenue that has poured in since the current aristocrats opened the doors of their home to the public is being ploughed back into the estate and I was pleased to be a party to its redemption.

            However, getting to Highclere Castle is a nightmare if you do not own a set of wheels. I had done a lot of research to try to find a way to get there by public coach from Victoria in London; but coaches go at odd hours and stop in faraway Newbury from where the tourist is expected to take a taxi to get to the estate. Furthermore, all available online tickets for the entire summer season had been sold out. I had entered into correspondence with the estate office and been informed that if I were to arrive at the Box Office by 10.00 am, there was a chance I could purchase a few of the “limited number of day tickets” that are made available for entry into the house no earlier than 2.00 pm. However, there were no guarantees—and the visitor arriving without a ticket takes his/her chances.  

            This was where my loyal and very accommodating friend Bash comes in. Over the years. readers of this blog would have become familiar with his name—for he has gamely chauffeured me to faraway reaches all over the English countryside—from Leeds and Hever Castles in Kent to Hidcote Manor Gardens in Oxfordshire and Wisley Royal Gardens outside London. Because he is an easy conversationalist, he is also charming company. While in the past we have taken driving excursions together, this time Llew would be joining us, of course. Bash also informed me that he would be bringing a friend with him—someone with whom he had just become acquainted. She turned out to be a woman named Chandrika and having awoken early, gulped down a cup of coffee, taken the Tube from Holborn in order to meet him in North London outside Northholt Tube station, it was here that we would meet both him and Chandrika.   

Driving to and Arriving in ‘Downton’:

            The drive to Highclere Castle took us approximately one and a half hours. It is clearly signposted after Newbury on the A34 and time flew swiftly as we discussed a number of topics. By the time we arrived at the Castle grounds, it was just before 10.00 am. Bash drove the car into the wide sweep of driveway leading to the main door from where we received our first glimpses of the lovely regal building comprising Highclere Castle designed by Charles Barry in the mid-1800s. If the spires that jut out of the turrets from the four corners of the main tower seem to you to resemble the Houses of Parliament in London, it is because Barry designed them too!

            While we were parking, the parking assistant assured us that there was no need to run—“there are loads of tickets”, he said. I was aghast. Why then had we been made to believe that they were near-impossible to get? Why are they not made available online? What’s the point of putting off a whole lot of visitors who might not be willing to take their chances? I was baffled.

            Anyway, we picked up tickets for 18 pounds each—they included access to the House, Gardens and the Special Exhibition on the Search For and the Finding Of the Tomb of Tutankhamun which had been accomplished by the Fifth Earl of Carnavron in 1922 through his patronage of the archaeologist Howard Carter. Having seen the entire collection of Tutankhamun treasures at the National Museum of Cairo in Egypt, a few years ago, we thought it would be terrific to revisit the hoard.

Visiting ‘Downtown Abbey’:

            As it turned out, our tickets were marked for a 10. 40 am entry. This meant that we were basically the second batch of visitors entering the Castle for the day. We queued up with a bunch of other guests at the main door (often featured in the series as the spot where visitors come in and leave to a reception or send-off from the entire Downstairs staff). Once inside the small foyer, we were ushered to the left and informed repeatedly that photography and videotaping is strictly prohibited in the House—outside one is free to take any number of pictures. This probably has to do with the fact that the current Earl and his family still continue to live at Highclere and the upstairs bedrooms are occupied by them and their guests year-round.

            The first room you enter is the “Double Library” that any fan of DA will instantly recognize. It is the spot at which Lord Grantham (Hugh Bonneville) is often seen attending to his business affairs, meeting with Chief of Staff Carson or bending down to stroke his yellow lab Isis. There are guides in each room ready, willing and able to answer questions and we asked several. Laminated handouts, also available in each room, provide details about the most significant decorative elements in the rooms—such as paintings above fireplaces, or embroidered panels (as we saw in the smaller library). The Larger room that comprises the library is equally interesting: architecturally and from the point of view of Downton locations. As Llew and I walked through the rooms at our leisure, we commented frequently on our recognition of special corners of the house. And as if to remind us continually that this is not Downton Abbey but actually Highclere Castle where a real, non-fictional family live, there are countless family pictures of the current Lord and Lady of the Manor and their children, pets and relatives scattered all over the house. The tour wound its way to the Living Room also seen frequently in the series as the spot where the ladies assemble over tea or coffee. It has beautiful soft green furnishings and a few significant paintings.  

            The tour continued up the stairs to the bedrooms that are located around one of the most interesting architectural features I have ever seen in a country manor—the quadrangular central balcony that wraps around the house internally, provides bedrooms on all fours sides and creates corridors through which occupants and servants can access these rooms. Bending down over the balcony, one sees the main Hall called the Salon, also a frequent setting in the series. We peeped into many bedrooms including ones used by the Dowager Countess of Grantham (Maggie Smith) in the series and saw a number of bathrooms—some old, others modernized. Most of the rooms and their furnishing are in fabulous condition considering how much it must cost for the upkeep of such a home and its contents. We were allowed to move along at our leisure and at no point did we feel stressed or hurried. Crowds were great. Most are elderly viewers; most are English; most come to the spot on conducted tours that follow a course that goes through many of the neighboring sites of the series—not just Highclere Castle.

            When we finished viewing the upstairs bedrooms, we descended the beautiful stone staircase with its wooden balustrade.  The upstairs corridors, the bedrooms and the house in general seemed much smaller to me in real life than they do in the series. They also seemed much darker. It is clear that excellent professional lighting in the TV series makes them come alive in a way that is not possible in real life.

            Back on the ground floor, we paused at the Salon to take in the marble fireplaces, the furnishings, etc. and to view still more contemporary photos of the current owners. We then trooped into the last main room—the piece de resistance of the house, its Dining Room. This is where the Granthams are seen eating three times a day: buffet breakfasts, casual lunches, formal dinners. The dining table looked very small and we were informed that it comes with 12 leaves—that can be added depending on the number of diners and that a number of shield-back chairs can also be added at that stage. None of the chairs matched—which I thought was interesting. Of course, in this room, the single most arresting feature is the equestrian painting of King Charles I by Anthony Van Dyke which dominates one wall and is seen in most dining room shots in the series. Flanking it are other portraits by Van Dyke—of the two Stuart brothers, both Royalists who fought on the Cavalier side during the Civil War and ended up killed. There are many other important paintings in this room and we spent a great deal of time here.

 Viewing the Tutankhamun Exhibition at Highclere:

            Finally, because Bash and Chandrika chose not to buy tickets to the Egyptian exhibition, Llew and I made our way “Downstairs” to the labyrinth of corridors that contained the story of the discovery of the Treasures of Tutankhamun in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt—one of history’s most significant finds ever. We learned a lot about the interest in Egypt and in antiquities of the Fifth Earl of Carnavron who had almost given up looking for the Tomb when it was eventually found, quite by chance, just beneath the camp that historians and scholars had set up to find it! We also saw a reproduction of the famous gold and lapis mask of Tutankhamun (we had seen the stunning original in Cairo) as well as the key elements of the discovery: his golden throne, for instance. There were reproductions of the four alabaster Canopic jars containing organs of the young boy-king as well as information on the brass doors that once opened leading discoverers to the inner cavities until they eventually reached the sarcophagus of “King Tut” and found his Mummy concealed within three coffins made of wood, glass and gold respectively. It was truly a fabulous experience to see this all over again—and for anyone who does not have the chance to actually get to Cairo, I could not recommend this exhibition enough. Indeed if you do get to Highclere Castle, do not miss this exhibition—it is worth every cent.

            What this Exhibition taught us was about the mythology related to the Curse of Tutankhamun and its relation to Lord Carnavron. He died within two months (I believe) or soon after learning about the haul’s discovery—hence, although he knew about it before he died, he did not set eyes on its incredible treasures.  He did arrive in Egypt, reached the site in the Valley of the Kings and had a brief glimpse through a keyhole (literally! that is brilliantly reproduced at the Exhibition) of the treasures that lay within. However, shortly afterwards, he was bitten by a mosquito on his right cheek. The bite became aggravated by his morning shaving routine causing an infection that refused to heal. He died shortly after of septisemia—setting in motion the myth of the Mummy’s Curse. What I learned at the exhibition was that the bite on his cheek occurred at the exact spot where the gold plating covering the Mask of Tutankhamun is at its thinnest!  Also interesting is that all the lights suddenly went off in the city of Cairo at precisely the moment when Lord Carnavron died and that his dog in the UK dropped dead quite mysteriously at the same time that his Master died in Egypt. It had the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright!

Lunch at Highclere Castle Tea Rooms:

            By this time, we were famished and ready to eat a horse. It is interesting that there are no period kitchens in this home. They have been modernized a long time ago as the venue is often chosen for weddings, banquets, receptions, etc. Hence, all “Downstairs” scenes in the series are shot on studio sets at Ealing Studios in West London.

            There are, however, very functional kitchens at Highclere that serve the hungry traveler today. Adjoining it is a cozy tea room for traditional cream teas or light lunches. Bash and Chandrika had already eaten by the time we arrived to join them. Llew and I chose the Beef Pasty and the Chicken Breast respectively served with roast potatoes, boiled carrots and peas. It was good hearty English fare and quite tasty for that.

 A Saunter in Highclere’s Gardens:

            Then, because it was still not quite 1.00 pm by this stage we went for a long walkabout on the lawns of the property that comprise the gardens. Set in 1,000 acres of sweeping parkland, the grounds were landscaped by the famed English landscape designer Sir Lancelot “Capability” Brown who introduced the ‘natutral’ aesthetic to English outdoor design. He is responsible for creating the concept of sheep grazing on lawns visible from upstairs windows—and there were loads of sheep dotted all over Highclere’s grounds—in order to introduce the bucolic touch to the surroundings. To prevent sheep from straying too close to the main door, he built a moat called a ‘haha’ into which they would fall and be unable to dig themselves out if they ventured into it. Hence, the soft undulating park spread all around us was his concept.

Dotting this spreading estate are “follies”—and there are 12 on this estate—small architectural curiosities often built in the style of foreign lands to represent fanciful homes from exotic realms. Hence, these are often domed and minareted as in the Islamic vein or pillared and pedimented as in Greek Neo-Classical style. There is also a lovely large screen in the Drawing Room at Highclere comprising paintings of all 12 follies on the property—many of these follies are visible from the windows of the house as one take the tour—hence, it is as important while touring the house to keep peering through the windows outside to take them in as many are perched high on the hills surrounding the house.

            At one of the most accessible follies (nearest the house) built in Greek Neo-Classical style, we joined groups of people who posed for pictures with the house in the background. This is the extent of ‘gardens’ one will find here. There are no herbaceous borders or profuse beds or rose gardens or flower gardens at all. It is merely a walking or strolling garden—the kind in which aristocratic 18thcentury ladies preferred to stroll so as to avoid any interaction with the hoi polloi.

 Off to Bampton in Oxfordshire:

            With so much time on our hands and the day shaping up so beautifully as one of those stunning summer ones in England often do, it was only logical that we would use it to drive to Bampton, the tiny Oxfordshire village that is the real-life location for the fictional village of Downton in the series. Supposed to be in Yorkshire somewhere between the towns of Ripon and Thirsk (which are, in turn,  the real-life world of yet another famed British TV series—All Creatures Great and Small), this village is actually much lower south in Oxfordshire and is now firmly on the tourist map—thanks to the popularity of Downton Abbey.

            It took us about an hour to get there from Highclere for without a GPS (or SatNav as it is known in the UK), it is well-nigh impossible to find anything in the countryside unless you have superb directions. We were fortunate to find two people who knew exactly what they were talking about and who led us directly to the little village on the edge of the Cotswolds.

            It is easy to see why filming takes place in this village—first of all, it seems untouched by the hands of time. It is one of those timeless places that could have been built centuries ago—although, truth be told, I noticed that most of the structures were built of the honey-toned Cotswold stone at the turn of the 20th century and dated from about 1901 to 1910. Secondly, when the light hits these stone walls, the façade seems to acquire a gilded patina which makes for quite brilliant TV backdrops.

            Chandrika chose not to do the Walking Tour with us and Bash chose to keep her company in a pub. Llew and I found our way directly to the Bampton Community Center which is housed in the village Library Building. This building serves as Downton Hospital in the TV series and many of the outdoor scenes associated with Isobel Crawley and her relationship with the tall, handsome doctor, are shot here at the entrance under a very cute stone archway. Inside the building, there is Downtonmemorabilia—for as their sign clearly points out, there is no Downton Abbey Memorabilia at Highclere Castle—just Highclere trinkets. Here there are keychains, magnets, mugs, postcards and photos to be purchased, but, most useful of all, you can buy a Downton Abbey map for 50p that takes you to all the locations in the village that were used in the series.

            To see all the sites, you need to give it at least two hours: After photographing the Library (Downton’s Hospital), we strolled next door to the house that is used as Matthew and Isobel Crawley’s residence in the series. It has a high wall and a gate surrounding it that prevents anyone venturing into it, but the façade is clearly familiar to fans of the series. Again, we took many pictures at this venue.

            Just next door, in a small traffic island that comprises this area, is the current St. Mary’s Church (renamed as The Church of St. Michael and All Angels in Downton). We walked into the arched stone entrance and up to the church door and then made our way for a spiritual visit to the front. It is at this church altar that Matthew Crawley and Lady Mary are married in the show. Someone was hard at work changing the flower arrangements when we got there and apart from a group of three female visitors, also taking the tour, there was no one in sight.

            Outside in the church yard, where in the series Matthew Crawley is buried, there was a group of noisy American high school kids on a school trip. Their chatter broke the age-old silence of the space but it also contributed some tourist vitality to it. Following the map down Church View Road, we saw the little houses that double up as pubs—The Grantham Arms and The Dog and Duck—in the series. We also entered into conversation with a very friendly man who lives on the same street who shared interesting snippets with us about incidents associated with the shooting. “They’ve been at it for five years now,” he said, “and we have grown accustomed to them.” He told us that The Dog and Duck Pub is a house that belongs to his friend whose exteriors and interiors feature in the film—she gets paid a few hundred pounds for each shooting session, he said. He also told us that the village garbage stand outside her home is converted into a red pillar post box when shooting is on—“they merely place a red pillar box dummy directly over the bin,” he explained, “but people had no idea and actually started posting their mail in there! They had to put a notice informing people that it was not a real post box.”

            So up and down the village we walked—we were charmed not just by its Downtonconnections but also by the unhurried, calm pace of life in these villages that have always held a particular fascination for me—for at least thirty years when I had first been introduced to Oxfordshire’s Cotswold villages while at Oxford. Gardens spill over with flowers—there are hollyhocks higher than my height, roses cling to aged walls, cats sit in sunny windows watching passers-by, dogs bark indoors or prance in the front. There is not a car to be seen in some of the side streets—time literally does stand still.

            When we found Bash and Chandrika they were in the local pub on the main street. We badly needed a cup of tea at this time and went in search of a tea room, but the only one to be found had shut a half hour previously. I came up with the idea of driving to Oxford–not too far away. It was about 5.00 pm by this time and Bash was afraid we’d hit traffic big time. He was pleased to make the detour to avoid the highway rush hour. Again, winding roads that went past the sweetest little Cotswold villages led us within spitting distance of Oxford.

 Dinner at The Trout Inn in Wolvercote:

            But that was when Bash and Chandrika decided to make a detour to Wolvercote to skirt the university town and avoid traffic altogether. Bash had his heart set on dining at The Trout Inn—legendary gastropub in Wolvercote, a few miles outside of Oxford, where we had once dined together and where I have dined on several occasions with different friends. Using instinct, I was able to guide Bash to The Trout and on parking his car, we entered the place at a time when it was still almost empty—it was about 6.00 pm. This gave us pick of the spots at the waterside for the pub is located on the banks of the Isis (a branch of the Thames) at the spot where a weir tumbles water into the river creating a very picturesque backdrop for diners.

We were seated at a table for four and decided to order. Both Llew and I chose the King Prawn, Crab and Chorizo Linguine and it was just so darn good that I have resolved to try to reproduce it at home soon. Chandrika, a vegetarian, chose the deep-fried halloumi while Bash had the beef burger and we all pronounced our meal superb. For dessert, I got the Sticky Toffee Pudding with Warm Custard which I only ever eat when I am in the UK while Llew had the Belgian-Chocolate Brownie with Vanilla Ice-Cream. In the distance, I could see one of the dreaming spires of Oxford—the steeple of a former church now housing the Science Center. I had the terrible feeling of being so near and yet so far. But we had lingered over our meal and our drinks (local beer for me) far too long and Chandrika realized at 7. 30 pm that she had a long way to go to reach home in South London.

We hastily made our retreat from the restaurant but not before we paused on the bridge above the weir to take in the sights of the Oxford Tow Path curving towards the city at Godstow Lock where the ruins of Godstow Nunnery still stand—they formed the setting for one of the famed Inspector Morse Mysteries that I adore.

            We got back into our car and raced homewards—alas, without passing through one of my favorite cities in the world. So near and yet so far, I thought, as I had hoped we would at least drive down The High and take in the illuminated college buildings. Still, it was only a small disappointment in a very fulfilling day and we were absolutely delighted with the unexpected twists and turns (literally!) that it had taken to bring us into some of our fondest TV locations.

            Bash was kind enough to drive us all the way into the city and it was at King’s Cross that we alighted to hop into a bus that took us right opposite our building at the corner of Gray’s Inn Road within 10 minutes. Our hosts were already asleep when we crept in at about 10. 30 pm after an amazing day.

            Until tomorrow, cheerio!