Discovering Otani University, Byodo-In Temple, Kyoto Rail Station and Gion

Jun23

Kyoto, Japan
Jetlag did not bother us too badly last night and although we were up before sunrise hit the ancient city of Kyoto, we felt fully rested. As I busied myself getting organized for a full day, Llew watched the USA play Portugal in the FIFA 2014 World Cup and became conversant with sporting Japanese vocabulary pretty quickly!

Breakfasting in the Japanese Fashion:
By 7. 30 am, we were ready to meet and greet Workshop participants in the hotel’s dining hall and to acquaint ourselves with the mysteries of a Japanese breakfast. There was salad and miso soup (yes for breakfast!) with strips of dried omlette and nori seaweed that became rehydrated in the steaming broth–so delicious! Rice cakes wrapped with more nori, croissants, butter, marmalade, strings of cocktail sausages with mustard and ketchup and coffee with more soup (tomato, chicken, lemon) were in evidence. We ate heartily.

Off to Otani University:
Then the lot of us, introductions mostly done, were trooping off in an untidy crocodile down the side street and on to the main road to get to the Subway station (Kurasama) to make the journey to Otani University in the north of the city where the first lectures of the day were to be held. Michiko Katsura-san distributed our local public transport passes (for unlimited bus and subway travel) and we were off in the spotless, ultra-modern system in which commuters traveled in an incredibly disciplined fashion although the trains were packed. It wasn’t long before we were entering the gates of the university and finding our way into the conference room chosen for our program. Introductions were swiftly gotten out of the way and we prepared to listen to Prof. Michael Emmerich of UCLA espouse his views on ‘The Tale of Genji as World Literature’. In an extremely absorbing session that kept us fascinated, he recounted the history of the work, its early reception in the modern Western world and the long and convoluted process through which it has entered the world literary canon. Wonderfully interesting stuff. A short break was followed by a second session by Michael that included some videos of the Japanese royal family and their place in the world and then it was time for a quick lunch. Llew attended the first session but slipped away during the break to wander down the campus area with the intention of returning for lunch.

Lunch in the Japanese Style:
Bento boxes–that delightful Japanese invention–made a magical appearance. Lunch in gorgeous lacquered boxes that contained compartmentalized steamed rice, fried fish flavored with soy sauce, edamame pods, steamed vegetable, asparagus and eggplant tempura and a sweet soy bean cake materialized. Everything was delicious and very satisfying indeed. Oh and there was miso soup to wash everything down. Llew and I believe that if there is one thing this trip will accomplish for the two of us it will be the ability to eat with chopsticks like pros–a skill that has so far alluded us!

Off to the Byodo-In Temple:
Kyoto is all about temples (which is the name for Buddhist houses of worship) and shrines (the name for Shinto ones). I am certain that in the next few days we will see so many that they will all start merging seamlessly into one another as to be completely indistinguishable. The Byodo-In Temple is the grand-daddy of them all, in a sense, as it is one of the oldest (built almost a thousand years ago) and featuring heavily in the medieval Tale of Genji and The Tale of Heike (which are the focus of our study during this week).

To get to the Byodo-In Temple, we made a long journey to the town of Uji which sits in a valley surrounded by hills whose waters are so delicious as to produce wonderful tea and sake (Japanese rice wine). As we walked from the railway station at Uji to the Byodo-In, we passed through narrow village lanes that were laced with tea shops selling green tea, matcha (powdered green tea)
and green tea ice-cream. It was rather a charming entry to a beautiful temple that is being restored in stages to its original glory. Built in the Heian Period, this building is the finest example of Japanese architecture of the time. It is a fairy tale concoction of red pagoda buildings surrounding the quiet dignified beauty of a Japanese garden created around a heart-shaped reflecting pool. The main building is topped with twin phoenixes (the originals are in the adjoining museum) while gilded replicas now grace the roof line.

We were met by the curator of the Temple named Tanaka who gave us a running commentary in Japanese that was translated by our accompanying guide Monica Berthe, an American professor at Otani University who has spent forty years in Japan. We spent the next hour in the garden, strolling around the temple precincts, visiting the museum where we saw medieval wooden bodhisatavas and walls and panels painted as they were when the temple was first constructed and decorated. For a very long period of time, the venue was deserted and fell into complete destruction. Fortunately, the piece de resistance of the site, the Phoenix Hall, was retained together with the towering gilded figure of the Amida Buddha seated on a multi-petalled lotus. To enter this sanctum sanctorum, we took off our shoes and were treated to more commentary to enable us to understand the religious and artistic nuances of the venue and to drink in its solemn atmosphere.

Llew and I had visited the Byodo-in Temple in Hawai’i, a few years ago, but we were still quite taken by the beauty of this place. Although it was hot and humid, the venue held out interest and we were quite pleased to have extended time in its environs.

After taking in this final vista, our group split: some chose to return to the gift shop, others continued with Monica towards more sacred Shinto shrines in the vicinity. Llew and I were in the latter group. Badly needing a break, we stopped for green tea ice-cream cones and a sit down and then we were on our feet again. For the next couple of hours, we crossed vermillion bowed bridges, a gushing Uji River, saw two Shinto shrines (the Uji shrine) and several beautiful gardens as we traversed narrow lanes with quaint Japanese homes lining them on both sides. It was a wonderful introduction to the beauty that exists just beyond Kyoto’s urban sprawl and we enjoyed every second of it.

Examining Kyoto Railway Station:
We re-joined the group at the railway station for our return journey to Kyoto; but because I was persuaded to spend a while examining the architecture of Kyoto Railway Station, we requested Monica to direct us towards it. Happily, she accompanied us all the way to the venue where we spent almost an hour.

Now you might well wonder what could possibly be appealing enough about a railway station to warrant a whole hour’s scrutiny. Well, think Grand Central Station, New York, in the hands of I.M. Pei–on steroids! And there you have it. A glass and concrete confection that towers above your head like the fan vaulting of a Gothic cathedral–but modern, no futuristic! It was amazing. Its architect, Hiroshi Hara won the commission to design and create the station on the basis of an international competition. Highly controversial from the start, the building was disliked for the fact that it does nothing to mirror Kyoto’s rich architectural heritage; but Hara was adamant in wishing to create a new aesthetic for the city–one that would reflect the 21st century vision of the county and its people. And indeed he has more than vindicated himself.

Llew and I rode the endless escalators to get to the magic glass walkway that went all the way to the 11th floor and offered stunning views of the city of Kyoto right opposite the Kyoto Tower, a rocket-like structure that reaches out into the heavens. It presented a wonderful idea of the manner in which the city of Kyoto developed as the imperial capital in the verdant valley surrounded by misty hills. It was a grand sight indeed and we could have stayed there forever except that we had other plans.

Exploring Gion District and Pontocho:
Gion is the ‘entertainment district’ of Kyoto. Wink wink. Nudge, nudge. Call it quaint, call it charming, call it imperial. Just don’t call it Kyoto’s red light district–although that is exactly what it was and, from what I could see, what it still is. The area is best explored at dusk when night falls gently upon a culture that has been romanticized through the figures of the geisha and the maiko (apprentice geisha). As always, a district of this kind is best approached on a walking tour and Llew and I followed one provided by Lonely Planet called a Nighfall’s Walk in Gion.

Our stroll began on the steps of yet another Shrine: the Yasaka Shrine which is a vast complex of stairs, houses of worship, gardens, bells, countless white paper lanterns, thick ropes, white prayer flags knotted to a roped screen. We toured the complex from its striking red and gold exterior to the far, ancient reaches within and then, on the main road called Shimbashi, began our exploration of Gion.

We were informed that we’d be lucky if we saw a real geisha as handsome sums are paid today to be entertained by these talented and well-trained ladies of the evening. Well, luck was on our side for we walked alongside not one but two of them in full regalia as they hurried off to their next appointment. Meanwhile, we were treated to strolls in some of the most evocative parts of old Kyoto that reeked of history and mystery at the same time. Quite unutterably wonderful. Old traditional homes called ryokans now function as modest hotels, innumerable little restaurants and hostess bars were filled with beautiful women dressed to kill, a lilting narrow canal trailed willow branches into its waters while houses hugged the banks in little hidden nooks green with vegetation. The fact that lanterns were up throughout the area giving it a pretty uniformity added to the atmosphere and made us realize why, during the day such a place might leave us unaffected, while after dark, it would stir up every last nook of one’s imagination. Llew and I loved it.

Dinner of Okonomiyaki at Issen Yoshushu:
Okonomiyaki is the traditional Japanese pancake and Kyoto is famed for it. So it was not a far stretch to stretch out at a traditional little Japanese restaurant called Issen Yoshushu and treat ourselves to this delight–an omlette basically stuffed with all things Japanese: dried shrimp, Bonita (fish) flakes, scallions, ginger, beaten egg and a whole egg, loads of seaweed–all douzed in soya sauce. The end result is surprisingly delectable–a complex combination of flavors that is slightly different with each bite you take. At just 680 Yen (about $7), it was also a steal as it served as our dinner for the day at a time when we were both starving.

Satisfied by our break, it was time to try to head homeward but not before we saw Kyoto’s most famous Kabuki theater and entered the area across the Kamogawa River (which is flanked by twin promenades in the manner of Paris’ Seine) to arrive at Pontocho–twin alleys alive with restaurants, bars and shops galore. Women were dressed to the nines for a night on the town (yes, even on a Monday night) and the air was alive with possibility.

But Llew and I had walked for miles and we were finally ready to call it a day. We found our way to the Kawaramachi subway station, got off one stop later at Kurasama (but not before we made an error by taking a wrong train from the wrong station at Gion) and eventually getting home to our hotel. A good hot shower gave me my second wind and allowed me to scribble down this blog post before my doings tomorrow will quite cause all of today’s happening to vanish from my memory.

So there you have it: temples, gardens, geisha…we saw it all in one glorious if totally tiring day in Kyoto.

Until tomorrow, Sayonara.

Konnichiwa from Kyoto, Japan

Jun22

Konnichiwa from Kyoto, Japan
Kyoto, Sunday, June 22, 2014

As marathon journeys go, this one is up there. Way up there. From start to finish, it took us 41 hours to get here to Kyoto from Southport, Connecticut. Door to Door. Accomplished in stages, it involved eight full legs to make it to our hotel, The Via Inn in Kyoto on Shijo Muramachi.

–1. Car ride from Pequot Avenue to Westport Railway Station, Connecticut–courtesy of our helpful neighbor, Ken. (Reason we didn’t catch said train from Southport? There was a bomb scare at Fairfield that shut down the railroad line. Not a very good omen, one might say, for a trip halfway around the world. Still, we did not let a mere potential terrorist attack get in the way of our plans). So we were off. It was Friday, June 20 at 8.30 am.
–2. Metro-North train ride from Westport (train was pulling into platform when we got there, much to our awesome luck). One hour in virtually empty train got us to Grand Central Station in Manhattan, New York. It was Friday, June 20 at 10.30 am.
–3. NYC Airporter Ride by Shuttle Coach from Manhattan to La Guardia Airport in Queens, New York. Uneventful if very comfortable. Sun shining down on a gorgeous summer’s day in New York City. It was Friday, June 20 at 12 noon.
–4. US Airways ‘Shuttle’ Flight from New York’s La Guardia airport to Reagan Airport in Washington DC. Wine and beer served gratis on board–a rarity these days in America. Flight empty. Nice view of the Potomac and the Capitol as we landed and great view of the Washington Monument and the Jefferson Memorial throughout our stay at the airport. It was Friday, June 20 at 3. 15 pm.
–5. American Airlines Flight from Washington DC’s Reagan airport to Los Angeles International Airport. It was Friday, June 20 at 5.00 pm. Grand view of the Grand Canyon as we flew right above it–an experience of a lifetime. Still cursing the fact that I was so awed, I forgot to take pictures. Watched two movies in-flight: Winter’s Tale with Colin Farrel (a cute NY fantasy flic) and The Monuments Men (for the second time–liked it even more this time round). Chriselle and Robert had left that very evening for a wedding in Minnesota–so our stay at the airport was lonesome. It was Friday, June 20 at 7.30 pm (local Pacific Time which is 3 hours behind New York Time).
–6. Three hour layover at Los Angeles airport as night fell over the USA. We had been traveling already for what seemed like hours and we had still not even left the Continental USA! In the middle of the night/early in the morning of Saturday, June 21, at 1.00 am, we got into our next aircraft: a China Eastern Airlines Flight from Los Angeles to Shanghai Pudong Airport. Flight took about 13 hours and had us bored stiff. Despite fairly decent in-flight entertainment (I watched Baz Lurhman’s The Great Gatsby and liked it very much), it seemed to go on forever. Llew and I dozed on and off for about six hours and were over the sea so completely that our window seat was a total waste. We reached Shanghai at 7.00 am on Saturday, June 21.
–7. After a two hour layover in Shanghai during which time we browsed through duty free shops selling tea and silk scarves and douzed our bodies in perfume to keep our proximity to bearable to those around us, we were airborne again: this time it was China Eastern Airlines’ connecting flight to Kansai International Airport in Osaka, Japan–flight took two and a half hours during which time we had crossed the International Date Line and completely lost one whole day of our lives! Delicious breakfast in-flight saw us consume Chinese momos and a sweet pudding like concoction made of jellied azuki (red bean) paste. Very good indeed. When we arrived in Kansai airport, it was 12.10 pm on Sunday, June 22.
–8. Yet another journey in store–for we had to get from Osaka to Kyoto: this meant a shuttle ride of (get this!) almost two hours past verdant green, freshly rain-washed hills and scattered town settlements based around urban sprawl before we were deposited by MK Shuttle Service that we picked up at the counter at Osaka airport, to the door of our hotel–the Via Inn on a side street right off the busy Shijo Muramachi and Kurasama-dori intersections. We walked into our hotel lobby at 4.00 pm on Sunday, June 22 (having left home on Friday, June 20 at 8. 30 am).

So there you have it–phew! If you are exhausted just reading about this convoluted journey to Japan, just imagine what we went through enduring it. Even a seasoned traveler such as myself have broken all traveling records to make this marathon journey. Surprisingly, Llew and I were still good humored when we alighted from the shuttle and checked into out hotel–small, very neat, spotlessly clean and centrally located, it is just what the doctor ordered for 7 days’ stay in this impeccable city. We liked our little room (reminiscent of our cabin on the cruise ship same time last year) with its perfect little attached bathroom and its many amenities–including free wifi!

While Llew shaved and showered, I decided to stretch out my cramped knee caps for a mini-nap and was asleep for almost two hours before Llew woke me up to shower and get down to the lobby at 5. 30 pm. to register formally for the Workshop I have arrived here to attend. Chief Organizer Fay and another Chinese delegate (whose name I promptly forgot!) were already there. We were introduced to each other, were joined by Fay’s husband Gary and another delegate named Donna. After sitting around chatting with them for almost 45 minutes, we excused ourselves and at 7 pm, set out to find a bite to eat.

Although our hotel is very conveniently located and surrounded by eateries, it is impossible to decide where to go as all signage is in Japanese. Pictures and realistic plastic models of food in restaurant windows help but are inadequate. Stopping to ask exceptionally helpful and overly polite young ladies, we found our way to the basement food court of a department store called Actus on the busy intersection of Kurasama and Muramachi and eventually settled for an Italian place called  Kouji where we shared the most delicious Grilled Chicken with a Side Salad and a large bowl of Pasta with Bacon and Mushrooms that was divine. The waitress was quite the most enchanting little person in all of Kyoto and we were charmed. There is bowing and smiling and Japanese utterances all around us, but we are simply at a loss. All we know is that we are in the midst of some of the world’s nicest people and we are touched by their simple sincerity.

First impressions of Kyoto? It is busy, modern, young (full of a twenty-something population), hip and sparklingly clean. Not a cigarette butt to be spied anywhere although smoking is rampant. We think we will like it here very much, thank you.

We returned to our hotel at 9. 15 pm, jetlagged and very sleepy. So I shall call our first day/night in Japan a halt and remind you that almost everywhere in the world, no matter where you night be reading this, here it is already tomorrow.

Thanks for following me. Your comments would be very welcome indeed!

Sayonara!

This entry was posted on June 22, 2014, in Japan, Kyoto.

Konnichiwa from Kyoto, Japan

Jun22

Kyoto, Sunday, June 22, 2014
As marathon journeys go, this one is up there. Way up there. From start to finish, it took us 41 hours to get here to Kyoto from Southport, Connecticut. Door to Door. Accomplished in stages, it involved eight full legs to make it to our hotel, The Via Inn in Kyoto on Shijo Muramachi.

–1. Car ride from Pequot Avenue to Westport Railway Station, Connecticut–courtesy of our helpful neighbor, Ken. (Reason we didn’t catch said train from Southport? There was a bomb scare at Fairfield that shut down the railroad line. Not a very good omen, one might say, for a trip halfway around the world. Still, we did not let a mere potential terrorist attack get in the way of our plans). So we were off. It was Friday, June 20 at 8.30 am.
–2. Metro-North train ride from Westport (train was pulling into platform when we got there, much to our awesome luck). One hour in virtually empty train got us to Grand Central Station in Manhattan, New York. It was Friday, June 20 at 10.30 am.

–3. NYC Airporter Ride by Shuttle Coach from Manhattan to La Guardia Airport in Queens, New York. Uneventful if very comfortable. Sun shining down on a gorgeous summer’s day in New York City. It was Friday, June 20 at 12 noon.

–4. US Airways ‘Shuttle’ Flight from New York’s La Guardia airport to Reagan Airport in Washington DC. Wine and beer served gratis on board–a rarity these days in America. Flight empty. Nice view of the Potomac and the Capitol as we landed and great view of the Washington Monument and the Jefferson Memorial throughout our stay at the airport. It was Friday, June 20 at 3. 15 pm.

–5. American Airlines Flight from Washington DC’s Reagan airport to Los Angeles International Airport. It was Friday, June 20 at 5.00 pm. Grand view of the Grand Canyon as we flew right above it–an experience of a lifetime. Still cursing the fact that I was so awed, I forgot to take pictures. Watched two movies in-flight: Winter’s Tale with Colin Farrel (a cute NY fantasy flick) and The Monuments Men (for the second time–liked it even more this time round). Chriselle and Robert had left that very evening for a wedding in Minnesota–so our stay at the airport was lonesome. It was Friday, June 20 at 7.30 pm (local Pacific Time which is 3 hours behind New York Time).

–6. Three hour layover at Los Angeles airport as night fell over the USA. We had been traveling already for what seemed like hours and we had still not even left the Continental USA! In the middle of the night/early in the morning of Saturday, June 21, at 1.00 am, we got into our next aircraft: a China Eastern Airlines Flight from Los Angeles to Shanghai Pudong Airport. Flight took about 13 hours and had us bored stiff. Despite fairly decent in-flight entertainment (I watched Baz Lurhman’s The Great Gatsby and liked it very much), it seemed to go on forever. Llew and I dozed on and off for about six hours and were over the sea so completely that our window seat was a total waste. We reached Shanghai at 7.00 am on Saturday, June 21.

–7. After a two hour layover in Shanghai during which time we browsed through duty free shops selling tea and silk scarves and douzed our bodies in perfume to keep our proximity to bearable to those around us, we were airborne again: this time it was China Eastern Airlines’ connecting flight to Kansai International Airport in Osaka, Japan–flight took two and a half hours during which time we had crossed the International Date Line and completely lost one whole day of our lives! Delicious breakfast in-flight saw us consume Chinese momos and a sweet pudding like concoction made of jellied azuki (red bean) paste. Very good indeed. When we arrived in Kansai airport, it was 12.10 pm on Sunday, June 22.
–8. Yet another journey in store–for we had to get from Osaka to Kyoto: this meant a shuttle ride of (get this!) almost two hours past verdant green, freshly rain-washed hills and scattered town settlements based around urban sprawl before we were deposited by MK Shuttle Service that we picked up at the counter at Osaka airport, to the door of our hotel–the Via Inn on a side street right off the busy Shijo Muramachi and Kurasama-dori intersections. We walked into our hotel lobby at 4.00 pm on Sunday, June 22 (having left home on Friday, June 20 at 8. 30 am).

So there you have it–phew! If you are exhausted just reading about this convoluted journey to Japan, just imagine what we went through enduring it. Even a seasoned traveler such as myself have broken all traveling records to make this marathon journey. Surprisingly, Llew and I were still good humored when we alighted from the shuttle and checked into out hotel–small, very neat, spotlessly clean and centrally located, it is just what the doctor ordered for 7 days’ stay in this impeccable city. We liked our little room (reminiscent of our cabin on the cruise ship same time last year) with its perfect little attached bathroom and its many amenities–including free WiFi!

While Llew shaved and showered, I decided to stretch out my cramped knee caps for a mini-nap and was asleep for almost two hours before Llew woke me up to shower and get down to the lobby at 5. 30 pm. to register formally for the Workshop I have arrived here to attend. Chief Organizer Fay and another Chinese delegate (whose name I promptly forgot!) were already there. We were introduced to each other, were joined by Fay’s husband Gary and another delegate named Donna. After sitting around chatting with them for almost 45 minutes, we excused ourselves and at 7 pm, set out to find a bite to eat.

Although our hotel is very conveniently located and surrounded by eateries, it is impossible to decide where to go as all signage is in Japanese. Pictures and realistic plastic models of food in restaurant windows help but are inadequate. Stopping to ask exceptionally helpful and overly polite young ladies, we found our way to the basement food court of a department store called Actus on the busy intersection of Kurasama and Muramachi and eventually settled for an Italian place called  Kouji where we shared the most delicious Grilled Chicken with a Side Salad and a large bowl of Pasta with Bacon and Mushrooms that was divine. The waitress was quite the most enchanting little person in all of Kyoto and we were charmed. There is bowing and smiling and Japanese utterances all around us, but we are simply at a loss. All we know is that we are in the midst of some of the world’s nicest people and we are touched by their simple sincerity.

First impressions of Kyoto? It is busy, modern, young (full of a twenty-something population), hip and sparklingly clean. Not a cigarette butt to be spied anywhere although smoking is rampant. We think we will like it here very much, thank you.

We returned to our hotel at 9. 15 pm, jet-lagged and very sleepy. So I shall call our first day/night in Japan a halt and remind you that almost everywhere in the world, no matter where you night be reading this, here it is already tomorrow.

Thanks for following me. Your comments would be very welcome indeed!

Sayonara!

Gourmet Groupies

Apr11

Go on a Global Gastronomic Tour

GourmetClubDinnerFebruary2007019
Sampling wines at one of our Gourmet Dinner Club Evenings

Llew and I are huge food aficionados and our love for cooking and entertaining means frequent parties at Holly Berry House in the form of large buffet luncheons and intimate sit-down dinners. Our repertoire is varied and we enjoy food from every country of the world with equal relish. When we travel, we seek out the local cuisine with enthusiasm. Since both of us enjoy cooking so much, we rarely eat out. When we do occasionally dine in a restaurant, we make it special, choosing to eat in restaurants run by celebrity chefs such as Lidia Bastianich (Felidia’s) and Alfred Portal (Gotham), at Union Square Cafe (Danny Meyer) or Tabla (Floyd Cardoz) in New York City.

I have an enormous collection of cookery books and am a dedicated fan of the Food TV Network. My favorite food writer is Ina Garten, better known as “The Barefoot Contessa” who happens to own a house in Southport village where we live. I also enjoy watching Nigella Lawson, the British food writer and Mario Batali because I learn so much from them that I can use in my regular daily cooking.

My mother Edith is an amazing cook and I regret that I did not learn more about home cooked dishes from her whilst I still lived in Bombay. However, with the few main meals and techniques that she taught me in India and a very slim notebook containing some of her basic recipes, I arrived in the United States and began my own messy adventures in the kitchen.  I bought myself a copy of Madhur Jaffrey’s Indian Cooking and gave it my best shot. Needless to say, there were many initial burned offerings emanating from my kitchen.

My Mother and I still trade recipes on the phone and I still stand by and watch her work her magic in her Bombay kitchen during my summers in India. There is nothing I can ever  do, though, to replicate the tongue-tingling taste of her creations.  It must have something to do with her special touch! When my daughter Chriselle moved into her own apartment in New York City, however, I presented her with her own copy of Jaffrey’s Indian Cooking as she adores Indian food and never bothered to learn anything from me whilst she still lived with us in Southport. Who says History doesn’t repeat itself?

Though Llew and I have strong roots in Indian cuisine as a result of our origin on the Indian sub-continent, we have experimented endlessly with multi-ethnic cooking and have learned our way around such exotic ingredients as Thai kaffir leaves and nam pla (fish sauce), French Roquefort cheese and aoli (garlic mayonnaise),  Italian panceta (bacon) and  toasted pine nuts and Moroccan Ras el-Hanout (powdered spice mixtures) and bulgur (toasted wheat). We have braised, rolled, deep fried and baked our way through North African stews, and Viennese apfel streudel, Pakistani vegetable pakoras and French profiteroles. There are few recipes we find too challenging and hardly any foods we will not try at least once.

Meet the Members of Our Gourmet Dinner Club

Our mutual love of food led us, five years ago, to fellow foodies in our  neighborhood of Fairfield through whom we have developed some precious and very close friendships. We’ve had some truly memorable times through the years over groaning festive tables. While ours is essentially a Gourmet Dinner Club, we have held amazing summer brunches al fresco and casual barbcue backyard suppers to celebrate the men in our lives when, predictably, the menu featured Ribs–every guy’s favorite food! (That’s Llew and me–above left–enjoying a glass of wine before one of our Gourmet dinners).

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OUR SOMMELIER DAN DELANNOY

As if all the food offerings are inadequate, we are also fortunate to have a resident sommelier within our group. Dan deLannoy, who knows a thing or two about wine, selects a sampling of bottles that accompany each of our gourmet meals. This gives us the opportunity to experiment with a number of little-known vintages as well as discover the importance of pairing the right wine with the right item on the menu.

Meet the members of our Gourmet Dinner Club:

GourmetClubDinnerFebruary2007025
Gourmet Groupies All: Llew and Rochelle Almeida, Bonnie and Art Thurnauer, Amy and Dan DeLannoy, Brett and Mary-Lauren Factora

Art Thurnauer and Bonnie Britz-Thurnauer:

GourmetClubDinnerFebruary2007015

Art is a Sales and Marketing whiz. Bonnie is a College Counselor . She is a fabulous chef with an admirably creative bent. Give her a few ingredients and in minutes she can whip up something amazing. It is always a pleasure to attend parties in their home.

Dan and Amy de Lannoy:

GourmetClubDinnerFebruary2007016

Dan, our resident sommelier is a marketing professional. Apart from being a gourmet, he is a passionate sailor and skier. Amy is a corporate attorney who is deeply involved with voluntary community service. They set exquisite tables and love to entertain.

Brett and Mary-Lauren Factora:

GourmetClubDinnerFebruary2007013

Bret is a mehanical engineer with a passion for ice-hockey. He is also a long distance runner. Mary-Lauren, a Director of Marketing, is a dynamo, a true bundle of energy and organization who adores reading and travel especially when it includes their three adorable daughters.

Ford and Mary-Jo Smith:

Llew's Birthday May 2008 035

Our newest members, Ford and Mary-Jo Smith are novice cooks and are looking forward to sharpening their culinary skills with our club. Ford, an investment professional, has been an avid rower since his college days. This will come in handy as he feels there is no meal with too many calories. Mary-Jo, a pediatric nursing educator, has recently discovered yoga. They have two grown daughters who love to cook—go figure!

Making our Club Work:

Our Gourmet Dinner Club meets about six times a year, usually every other month. We take turns hosting the evening in our respective homes. The Host Couple is in-charge of planning the evening from menu selection and recipe distribution to preparation of the entree. Our menus are planned thematically–by season (a Spring Menu or An Autumn Harvest Menu), by National Cuisine (An Evening in Paris, A Passage to India) or by chef (Giada de Laurentis, Ina Garten) or by cookery book (Miracles with Five Ingredients).

We take turns cooking the various parts of the menu with each couple making one or two dishes–if you make appetisers one month, you will be assigned a dessert the next time. We do not split the cost of the meal as we find that expenses generally even out. However, we do split the cost of wine at the end of each meal.

If the thought of magnificent meals–both their preparation and their consumption–gets you salivating uncontrollably, then you’ve arrived at the right spot. Park yourself in our Gourmet Garage. Here you will find table settings and recipes that will allow you to throw the kind of fabulous parties that will be remembered long after the last plates have been cleared away.

Here are the menus and recipes for some of our most recent Gourmet Dinners:

Americana For Memorial Day

Pakistani Bada Khana

Britannia Rules The Waves!

Grilling! Grilling! Grilling!

Simple Italian Food from Mario Battali

A Night in Morocco

A Book-Lover’s Dinner Menu

A Father’s Day Barbecue

Thanksgiving on Valentine’s Day Menu

A Mardi Gras Fiesta

Dinner by Giada

My Published Essays on International Cuisine:

If I enjoy cooking and eating, I also enjoy writing about food and my feature stories on international cuisine have appeared in various gourmet magazines.

Browse a bit through “Those Tiffin Lunches” that appeared in Chilli Pepper magazine which is edited by David DeWitt and published out of Albuquerque, New Mexico. In this essay, I look back fondly on the hot lunches that my mother cooked, packed and sent to school while I was a student in Bombay, India. My mother Edith D’Souza’s own recipes for her traditional Indian Manglorean dishes follow the essay.  Please click on the link below to read the article.

Those Tiffin Lunches

The following essay is the result of the extensive travel that Llew and I undertook in Spain in Spring 2006 during which time we sampled regional cuisine and local wines all over Madrid and Andalucia. This article appeared in Upper Crust, a magazine for gourmets, edited by Farzana Contractor who happens to be my high school classmate in Bombay.  Please click on the link below to read the article.

On Tapas and Tio Pepe: A Journey Through Spain

 

Bon Appetit!

An Adventurous Return Stateside!

Aug13


Sunday-Monday, August 10-11, 2013
 London
 
            It is customary for me to end my blog posts with an account of my last day—but this time round, my return home was fraught with so much drama that I simply have to include an account of it.
           
A Brush with Celebrity:
By a complicated routing that had involved arriving in Europe through Copenhagen, Denmark, almost two months ago, I had to return there to board my flight to the States. Easyjet was by far the cheapest way to do that—so there I was in a serpentine queue at Gatwick airport, at the crack of dawn, periodically passing by a young man that looked annoying familiar. And yet I could place him. Several minutes of rather agonizing brain racking led me to realize he was an actor whom I have grown familiar with through Doc Martin, a show I watch regularly on PBS in Southport. Although I did not know his name, I remember him as Al, the very slim son of the very fat Bert who runs a waterside restaurant, in the Cornwall-based TV series.
Well, I simply had to make sure I wasn’t just imagining things. So, the next time, we brushed shoulders, I stirred up enough courage to say to him, “Excuse me, but aren’t you an actor?” He gave me the slightest smile and replied, “Yes”. I continued, “Haven’t I been seeing you in Doc Martin?” And he responded, “Yes”, again with the same embarrassed smile. And that was it! How shy he was! When I got back home, I googled him and discovered that he is Joe Absalom, a very successful TV actor. And yet how easily he had managed to fade into a crowd. No fanfare, no fuss. How marvelous, I thought, to be an actor and enjoy so much anonymity. How Brad Pitt must envy him!
           
A Short Stint in Copenhagen Again:
          Well, my flight to Copenhagen was uneventful. I had plans to stash my baggage away in the left-luggage locker and go out into the city. But frankly, by this stage in the game, I was tired—yes, indeed, I did write that…I was tired, both physically and mentally—and I was ready to simply spend a few hours relaxing at the airport. And that was precisely what I did. At Kastrup airport, I actually wrote what I thought would be my last blog post about my last day in London. I had a really good lunch from Yam Tam Thai Food To Go (good noodles with Spicy Chicken Peanut Curry), did a spot of duty free window shopping and then boarded my British Airways flight to return to Heathrow which left Kastrup at 4. 25 pm. and was scheduled to arrive in Heathrow at 5. 30 pm.
         I clearly spied the great big bridge that takes vehicular traffic from Copenhagen to Malmo in Sweden—part of it suddenly disappears under water! We had passed right under this bridge while on the cruise—just as we were eating dinner on our final night at Tamarind restaurant.
Spectacular Landing at Heathrow:
            I know that some people who read this blog regularly poke fun of me when I report how much of a city I am able to sight from 10,000 feet above sea level. And they are more than welcome to their share of guffaws. But I will tell you once again, at the risk of becoming a butt of their humor, that the touch down into Heathrow London was simply one of the most spectacular in my memory.
            First of all, it was the clearest day ever. Not a puff of cloud appeared in the perfect blue skies. I am easily able to find my bearings when we are flying right over the city at my first sighting of the Thames or the Millennium Dome. But this time, it was the Olympic Stadium that leaped out at me—and I realized we were flying right over Stratford. Then it was Anish Kapoor’s strange sculpture at the Olympic Park that emerged, crystal clear, like an inverted red exclamation mark. And then there was the Shard—that inevitable steel pin rising up as if to touch the plane’s wing.
             Once I spotted the Shard, I realized that we were flying directly above Canary Wharf. Indeed the cluster of skyscrapers was directly below my window! It was simply fascinating! Then my eye drifted across the Thames and over Wobbly Bridge as I tried desperately to spot St. Paul’s Cathedral. You’d think that so massive a structure would be easy to distinguish. But it was a bit of a struggle in the close construction of buildings that comprise The City of London. But spot it I did…and so inevitable my eyes sought out Amen Court where I had spent the last week of my stay in London—and there it was, I swear, I am not exaggerated. It was obliterated by a few trees, but clearly visible beneath me. My eyes then drifted along westward and I clearly saw the red unmistakable points of the Prudential Insurance Building on High Holborn—and, of course, less than an inch from where I was viewing the earth below me was 7 High Holborn, the building in which I had spent close to two weeks on first arriving in London. No, its outlines were not as sharp as the Prudential which towers in height and in appearance, but again, the general sense of the building’s position was easily spotted.
               Next my eyes moved westward, with the plane to the Tower of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament and along Whitehall, I clearly saw the official buildings opposite the Cenotaph (which I did not spot) with the gaping O in the center—not visible to us when we are actually walking past them on Whitehall. On to Buckingham Palace which was bathed in golden sunshine and the Victoria Memorial where I had stood only a few weeks ago with elation the day after the birth of Prince George was announced. “I was there”, I thought, as the plane moved swiftly over Hyde Park where the Serpentine gleamed smoothly. And then we were over the Thames again, losing height rapidly. I tried hard to spot Hampton Court Palace but I was not able to although I was clearly over Barnes Bridge whose distinguishing iron work makes it very obvious.
             Finally, we landed at Heathrow Terminal 5. I had less than two hours to connect to another flight—to the US.  But this was a Virgin Atlantic flight departing from Terminal 3. I took the courtesy coach provided by Heathrow for inter-terminals transfers and checked into my Virgin Atlantic flight which was scheduled to depart from London at 8.00 pm. I had just enough time to recharge my I-phone and to use Heathrow’s complimentary wifi (available only for 45 minutes at a stretch) before I boarded my flight for my return to the States.
Unexpected Mid-Air Drama:
            And then, when we were settled with drinks and were two hours into our flight (over Ireland if one went by the flight map), the Captain came on the PA system and made the shocking announcement that he had made a turn mid-air (unbeknownst to any of us). A technical glitch needing urgent attention had led him to take the decision to return the aircraft to Heathrow. He promised to get back to us soon with developments. Once we got over our shock, the cabin crew brought us snack packets—those would have to suffice as dinner, they said, as there was no time to do a full dinner service. Needless to say, we were starving by then but, left with no choice, simply had to make the best of our situation.
            A few minutes later, the Captain announced that ground staff would meet us at Heathrow airport where accommodation for the night had been arranged for us. There was no word about when we would fly out. Right enough, Virgin’s ground staff met us after we cleared Immigration and picked up our baggage. The airport’s Hoppa buses were galvanized into providing us with transport to the Holiday Inn Hotel. There, hotel reception staff, in what seemed like a jiffy, provided us with keys to our rooms and a restaurant voucher for breakfast in the morning.  Virgin’s staff informed us that we were all to be put on a flight leaving the next afternoon at 1. 15 pm. We were instructed to reassemble in the lobby by 10.00 am for the complimentary transfer to the Terminal.
            Well, most people headed straight to the restaurant for dinner. I was sleepy and tired more than hungry and not able to face another public meal. So I took my key and my baggage, found my room and decided to settle down in front of the telly as I brewed myself a cup of decaff coffee and fished out the bacon and lettuce wrap that British Airways staff had served me on the flight back from Copenhagen and which was lying untouched in my backpack. Replete, I fell asleep in a thrice and only awoke at 7. 30 am.
            A quick shower and a change of clothing later, I was down in the lobby tucking into a enormous Full English Breakfast with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, baked beans, potato hash and black pudding—yes! What a terrific way to end a adventurous departure from London. As my friend Ian tweeted it, “Quite a dramatic way to ensure one more day ‘s stay in London!”
            Post-Breakfast, we were packed into coaches, met my more Virgin Atlantic ground staff, seen speedily through check-in and placed on a flight that does not even exist on the regular roster! Everyone was especially nice to us and apologies were made frequently. I had managed to contact Llew to inform him about the change in my flight schedule. He texted me to inform me that he would pick me up from JFK airport—and so it was not necessary for me to make a shuttle booking for surface transport from JFK to Southport (although Virgin Atlantic would have reimbursed me). My flight was very pleasant indeed and on schedule, we touched down at JFK at the end of what had been for me an incredible summer to remember,              
Parting Shot:    
           Thanks for following me so faithfully on this month-long journey and for the pleasure of your company as an armchair traveler. Until I am safely back in my London Roost again, I wish you goodbye and good luck.
            And of course, I end by saying, cheerio!          

Breathless But Blissful Last Day in London

Aug13


Saturday, August 10, 2013
London
Breathless But Blissful Last Day in London
            And so it arrived finally—as all good things must—the end, that is, of my near-perfect month in London. On the one hand, as I look back, it seems to have flown in a heartbeat. And, yet, on the other, when I consider how much I crammed into 30 days, it seems as if I have spent a lifetime here.
            Alas, the clock chimes of St. Paul’s failed to wake me up at the crack of dawn—7. 30 am was more like it. I used the time whilst the rest of the household snoozed, to pack my bags carefully. By 9 am, Cynthia was up and preparing breakfast—we had cold cereal (muesli), lovely toast made with fig and hazelnut bread, marmalade and tea, and then I continued doing the odds and ends that must be accomplished in preparation for a long flight across the pond. By the end of the day, even I am shocked by the ground I covered and the astute management of time that permitted me to complete almost all of the items on my To-Do List–not just for the day but indeed for the trip.
Quick Nip into the Tate Modern Museum:
            By 11. 30 am, with my packing under control and my mind in a relatively peaceful state, I crossed Wobbly Bridge on foot and headed to the Tate Modern Gallery. It was the one major museum I had not yet peeked into—I was keen to see the Roy Lichtenstein canvas called Wham that introduced the techniques of comic books into contemporary art. Alas, I was informed that the Lichtenstein exhibition had ended two weeks ago and the canvas was no longer on display. Fortunately, I had seen it many years ago—so I felt less badly about missing the opportunity.
            Since I was in the Tate, I took a round of its newest installations and then made my way up to the 3rdfloor—the café level—for stunning views across the Thames to the dome and spires of St. Paul’s. It is astonishing how much London’s skyline has changed since I lived in it. Then, only the Gherkin had dominated the landscape—today, there is the towering Shard and still in a state of construction, the Cheese Grater and the Walkie-Talkie! Ever imaginative, Londoners are perceiving these new icons with their characteristic dry humor.
            Although my visit was short, it was lovely to take in old favorites—the Picassos and Miros, the Braques and the Legers. But time was running fast and I had much catching up to do…
    
An Errand at the Globe Theatre:
            My next port of call was next door at Shakespeare’s beautiful Globe Theater that I had also not visited during my entire extended stay. A desire to carry back home some brochures proclaiming the offerings of the new Sam Wannamaker Theater for my colleague Karen who will be teaching a course to coincide with the 450th anniversary of the publication of the First Folio, I stepped into the lobby where Tours of the Theater commence. With my brochures safe in hand, I sauntered into the shop and was much humored by the witty aprons, oven mitts, note pads, coasters, key chains, etc. that bear Shakespearean quotes. I did not buy anything, however, and with my errand accomplished, I crossed Wobbly Bridge again, fighting hordes at every step before returning to Amen Court for a quick chicken sandwich lunch.
Time to Say Goodbye:
            Cynthia and Michael, mine hosts, were off to the famed Glyndebourne Festival—a major musical event–and I waited until they left at 1.00 pm, so as to bid them goodbye. They were not expected back home until past midnight, by which time I would be fast asleep. I did not expect to burst into tears as I hugged and thanked them; but sob I did! This foursome (which includes their sons) is like my family in London and I always get tearful when leaving them; but this time, my departure was made more poignant by the fact that I will never live with them in this glorious Christopher Wren home again as they will be moving shortly into a much more compact space where they will no longer be able to offer me the luxury of a room of my own with a separate bath. Although I know that I will see them again, the thought that it will be in a different location and in different circumstances, made me very nostalgic indeed for the many stays I have enjoyed in their warm, loving and hospitable home.
     
Off to Paddington:
            With Cynthia and Michael gone and my last day in London yawning gapingly ahead of me, I was delighted that their lawyer son Edward, who had a free Saturday at his disposal, volunteered to keep me company by spending the day in whatever way I wished. Thrilled to have his company, I mentally reorganized my day and off we went.
            Our first errand was in Paddington at Sussex Gardens, just near the famous St. Mary’s Hospital where Prince George was born three weeks ago. I had meant to present a small gift to my friend Bande Hassan at dinner last night. But I had clean forgotten to carry the present with me. I promised him that I would drop it off with his concierge and that was what Edward and I first did on having taken the Tube to Paddington.  Ten minutes later, we were dropping the bag off and leaving his building and looking for transport to take us our next location.
Antiquing on Portobello Road:
            Well, for a lover of antiques and vintage bricabrac, I suppose it is sacrilegious to spend an entire month in London and not find the time to browse amongst the Saturday morning stalls on Portobello Road. So, wanting to tick that box too, we took a bus to Notting Hill and began the long and painfully slow walk to the spot where the make-shift Saturday market sprouts up. It has been my recent unfailing experience that nothing but garbage is now to be found on the streets—cheap Chinese remakes of famous English porcelain patterns (the Redoute roses for instance on bone china mugs). Anything halfway decent is now in the shops that line both sides of the street but with much heavier price tags. There is plenty of “hotel silver” to be found now, mainly in the form of teapots, creamers and sugars and numerous salt and pepper shakers. But there wasn’t anything really portable and after a quick circle around the stalls, we retraced our steps and disappeared down the Tube stairwell at Notting Hill.
Whee! The Exciting Emirates Cable Car Ride!
            The Central (Red) Line took us directly to Stratford which was virtually the end of the line. This was the area that had buzzed last year at this time during the Olympic Games, From the Tube platform, we followed signs to the DLR (Dockland Light Railway) with the idea of getting off at Royal Victoria. About ten minutes later, we were able to see the capsules of the Cable Car and another ten minutes later, we had tickets in hand for the very pricey cost of 3. 20 pounds! Indeed, it was a steal and our excitement mounted as we mounted the platform to the embarkation area for a ride on the Emirates Air Line as the Cable Car Ride is called.
            Named for its sponsor, Emirates Airlines of Dubai, this newest London attraction (that is fast rivaling the Shard and the London Eye because it is so reasonably priced) has loads of offer. Not just is the cable car ride thrilling, soaring—as it does—high above the Thames, but its proximity to the Millennium Dome (the O2) on the other side, means one can then explore that exciting venue with its restaurants, cinemas, games arcades, etc. and its own newest attraction—the ability to scour the curve of it on the outside. Furthermore, the Cable Car ride offers fantastic views—from the Anish Kapoor sculpture in the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park near Stratford to the Thames Flood Barrier, from the towering heights of Canary Wharf to the bend in the Thames as it snakes towards the sea–you can take it all in. And it is deeply exciting! Very similar to the ski lift rides that are common at skiing resorts all over the world, the capsules move slowly to allow boarding and disembarkation. Ten people can be accommodated in as single capsule, so one is often clubbed in with a bunch of strangers, but it can be a very amusing experience overall. Edward and I enjoyed it enormously and would heartily recommend it to visitors to the capital.
            Upon disembarking, we walked towards the Millennium Dome and the Jubilee Line Tube Station at North Greenwich and twenty minutes later, we were at London Bridge to see another one of London’s new attractions, up close and personal, the Shard.
Circumnavigating the Shard:
            The reason the Shard is not as popular as it was predicted to be was its sky-high ticket to the Observation Deck. It is supposedly Europe’s tallest building, although even an assessment of its height from its base does not quite impress. It is a very interesting architectural design and chances are the top will always appear unfinished; but with the 30 pound ticket cost to ascend its dizzying heights, it is unlikely there will be many takers.
            I wasn’t interested in reaching the top—all I wanted to do was walk in its base and to circumnavigate its environs. This turned out to be far from impressive too. Indeed, there is really nothing much about which the Shard can boast—other than its height. Still, I was content that I ticked off yet another item on my Visit Wish List.
A Walk in Southwark and the South Bank:
            Realizing that we were very close to Southwark Cathedral, we decided to stroll along the South Bank of the Thames to take in its Saturday evening energy. Since Borough Market was wide open, in we went looking for end-of-business-day samples (or what the British call ‘tasters’) but there was nothing to be found as salesmen washed out their platforms and packed up for the day. Past Vinopolis we went and The Anchor pub and on past the many eateries that have mushroomed quay-side. We crossed Wobbly Bridge again and looking for sustenance, entered Le Pain Quotidien opposite St. Paul’s Cathedral where we sipped Americanos and hot chocolate and enjoyed pavlovas and chocolate tarts as we both badly needed a sit-down.
A Walk at the Inns of Courts at Chancery:
            Edward excused himself at this point, as he had an errand to run in Vauxhall. We decided to meet up again for dinner at Carluccio’s at Smithfield Market and off we went on the Tube.
            I took a bus down Fleet Street and got off at Chancery Lane in order to begin the last of my DK Eyewitness Guide tours as are to be found in the book. The walking tour wound through the back of the Royal Courts of Justice with their brick and granite work. I noticed, for the first time perched high on the corner of a building, the sculpture of Sir (and Saint) Thomas More, Chancellor of the Exchequer under Henry VIII, the Reformation’s most famous martyr. This is Holborn, heart of legal London, filled with grand buildings whose architecture never fails to lift my spirits.  On weekend evenings, the place simmers down to a whisper—only a few boisterous boozers can be heard at the few pubs that dot the warren of lanes.
            On Carey and Searle Streets I walked until, off Portugal Street, I arrived at The Old Curiosity Shop about which Dickens wrote a novel. It is definitely a 17thcentury structure that survived the Great Fire of London as is evident by its sagging roof and its overhung upper storey—typical of Tudor housing. Today, a shoe store takes occupancy within but tourists do come in their numbers to take photos of a very interesting corner of this part of the city.
            Lincoln’s Inn, one of the four Inns that comprise the Court of Chancery, is a magnificent Tudor structure with banks of characteristic fancy brick work, tall chimney pots, stone gargoyles and an impressive gate house. It is said that the playwright Ben Jonson laid some of the bricks of these buildings in the reign of Elizabeth I. Although I have wandered at will through the many nooks and crannies of this venue, I was unable to enter today as the area is closed to visitors during the month of August as a result of some construction activity within.
            No harm, no foul. I left and made my way towards Sir John Soane’s Museumwhich is also heavily scaffolded—due to refurbishment. It was closed, in any case, and having visited it on many occasions, I had no intentions of going inside to peruse the impact of Soane’s obsessive collecting of architectural fragments from around the world. On another side of the Square in which prisoners were once executed (it is rumored that the screams of their ghosts can still be heard on certain nights in the area) is the grand Neo-Classical façade of the Royal College of Surgeons that hides yet another little-known museum in its bowels—the Hunterian Museum (which I have also visited a few years ago).    
            And then, on another side, was the van with free food with hordes of homeless men clustered around it to claim their evening meal. Within half an hour, it was all gone and I found myself on Kingsway looking for the Church of St. Anselm and Sr. Cecilia as I wished to pay a visit since I would be missing Sunday mass tomorrow. That too was closed as the Saturday evening mass had ended about a half hour previously. My walk had accomplished a great deal—it had taken me through parts of London that I love because of my close familiarity with them, but it had also introduced me to certain facts of which I had remained ignorant.
            There was nothing left to do except enter Little Waitrose on High Holborn to buy myself some breakfast sandwiches for my early morning departure tomorrow. I did so and walked towards the bus stop at Brownlow Street to hop into a bus to Smithfield. By 7. 45, I was at Carluccio’s and awaiting the arrival of Edward.
Last Meal in London:
            Carluccio’sis one of my favorite London Italian chains—introduced to the city by Antonio Carluccio. I was introduced to it by my former neighbors Tim and Barbara, who often ate there on a Sunday evening. Edward arrived a few minutes later and we decided to have the 2 course prix fixe meal both of us choosing a penne pasta with sausage in a tomato sauce as our main dish and finishing off with Tiramisu which we washed down with red wine and Peroni beer respectively. We chatted about Bollywood movies of which, I discovered, Edward is a big fan. But by 10.10 pm, we had to call it a day and walking into the coolness of a summer’s night, we headed back to Amen Court where I finished the last bits and bobs of my packing. Edward very chivalrously took my cases downstairs in readiness for the cab driver who would be coming to pick me up at 4.00 am!
            And thus, quite suddenly, my time in London came to a grinding halt. I set two alarms to be on the safe side and to the chimes of St. Paul’s clock, tried to get to sleep. But tension made sleep elusive and when Cynthia and Michael returned after midnight, I was still awake and able to spend a few more minutes chatting with them before bidding them goodbye again. I continued to remain wide awake right through the night and at 3.30 am, woke up to start the long drive into the lightening dawn to begin my journey from Gatwick Airport and away from London.
            Yes, I will have to admit that tears blurred my eyes as they ate in the familiar landmarks of the city for I have no idea when I will return…but I live in the confidence that return I will. For when you have as much passion for a city as I do for T’Smoke, you never need much of an excuse to come back.

Parting Shot:
            So there you have it: My Month in Blighty. If I were to sum up its fruitfulness in terms of goals accomplished, I would say I did not do too badly. I researched, wrote, and worked with the editors to complete a commissioned essay on Paradoxes of Anglo-Indian Identity. I made contact with the Images Department of the National Portrait Gallery to obtain rights and permission for the use of pictures I intend to include in my forthcoming book. I  met with sociologists and anthropologists at The School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London to gain insights into the manner in which the manuscript of my book can be improved for publication. I had fruitful meetings with faculty colleagues and staff at NYU-London who worked hard to support my work in the computer labs. I used the British Library for checking footnotes and cross-referencing sources in my bibliography. 
           I completed every single one of DK Eye Witness Guides walks through London. On an average, I walked 6 miles per day or about 12, 000 steps. And I broke my own personal walking record by walking 12 miles or approximately 25,000 steps in a single day when in Oxford.
           Outside of Central London, I visited Hampstead and Greenwich, Oxford and Leeds Castle. 
           One of the most fulfilling of my many excursions was visiting my infirm friend Stan Fuller at the Madeley Estate Home for the Aged in Witney, near Oxford.
           The most exciting part of being in London this summer was my presence in the city during the birth of the heir to the throne. I participated actively, as any die-hard Anglophile would, by making my way to the gates of Buckingham Palace to photograph the easel that announced the birth to the world. 
            I met many old friends and made new ones. They provided company, meals, long chats and insights into the British way of life. I also unexpectedly met and spent time with my old friend from Bombay, Firdaus, who was visiting London at the same time.
           I made my home in four different parts of the city and I enjoyed them all–Holborn, St. John’s Wood, Battersea and Ludgate Hill. St. John’s Wood and Battersea were new to me but I enjoyed discovering them. 
          I saw five great plays and my first opera at the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden. I also saw the Bolshoi Ballet perform Tchaikowsky’s Sleeping Beauty at Covent Garden.
          I think I can say that I packed more into my month than most visitors to London do in a year. I am always grateful for the opportunities that bring me to this, my favorite city–which is why I am almost manic in my consumption of its many pleasures. 

          Please stand by now for my last and final post—on my dramatic return to the US.

Friends, Shopping, Kyoto Gardens, More Friends, More Shopping…

Aug10


Friday, August 9, 2013
London
What do you do when you realize you have only two days left in your favorite city in the world? Do you complete the rest of the items on your sightseeing To-Do List? Do you spend them shopping for last-minute items? Do you panic that you will exceed baggage weight allowance and end up paying heavy charges? Do you fill it seeing friends whose contact with you makes your life more meaningful?  Well, in my case it was all of the above.
            So when I awoke at 8.00 am after a hellish night during which I stayed wide awake until 3.00 am listening to the bongs from the clock on St. Paul’s Cathedral and regretting the caffeine- laden chocolate drink I had consumed, last thing at night, from Paul’s, I skipped Mass and began to plan my day, literally hour-wise, as I had so much to pack in.
           
Breakfast with a Dear Friend at St. John’s Wood:
I showered and skipped breakfast and took the Tube straight to St. John’s Wood and walked briskly to Gail’s, the coffee shop at which I had plans to meet my friend Marilyn. Marilyn had been away from London for the past three weeks and had only just returned—hence the late date for our first meeting. Talking of Gail’s, have you noticed how many coffee shop chains have sprouted all over London, each better than the next? These Londoners are simply spoiled for choice—and every single one is packed so the economy had better be booming.
            Marilyn arrived ten minutes later but since we wanted someplace quieter to catch up in, we stepped next door into French Café Richoux which has the best pastries in town. Since it was breakfast time, we opted for something more sensible–she had Eggs Benedict sanssmoked salmon which I was quick to gobble and I had French Toast with an Americano. It was delicious but not as delicious as our long chinwag during which we found out all the exciting things that have happened in our lives since last we met a year and half ago, also in London. Marilyn was one of the close friends I had made during my life in London and she is someone I have clung to as I have gained nothing but wisdom, comfort and entertainment from our friendship.
            But then it was time to say goodbye and to get on with other items on my agenda.   
  
Shopping…
A bus from Wellington Road took me straight to Oxford Street where I found the side entrance to Mark sand Sparks—exactly the place I was seeking. I was in and out in a jiffy as I knew exactly what I wanted: my year’s supply of cotton undies. And from the Food Hall in the basement, two bars of their scrumptious Battenburg Cake which Llew and I love. Excess Baggage or not, I am going to have the room and the weight allowance for these!
An Errand at Victoria:
From the same bus stop at which I had alighted, I jumped into the 82 bus then headed to Victoria as I had a small errand to accomplish. I have been commissioned the submission of an essay on the new Shakespeare portrait that was unearthed a few years ago in Ireland and which is now considered the only definitive portrait for which he actually posed in his lifetime—and therefore, the most authentic likeness we have of him.  
A few days ago, when passing in a bus, I had spied the use of this portrait on the sign post of The Shakespeare Pub at Victoria and since I wish to illustrate my essay with a picture to indicate that this portrait is now so widely acknowledged as Shakespeare’s own that even pubs are using it, I wished to take pictures of it.          
So with my camera carefully recording it, I composed my pictures from all sides of this corner pub and when I was satisfied with the quality of my pix, I hopped on to the Tube at Victoria and headed for my favorite part of London. I got off at Holland Park and found my way to the entrance from the North side—I usually approach it from the Kensington side.
The walk from the South side approach was lovely—flowers were in full bloom in the gardens and the shady paths that led to the center were just delightful on this particularly temperate morning in London.   
Lingering in my Favorite Spot in London:
            So knowing London as well as I do, I guess if someone had to ask me what my favorite spot in the entire city is, I would answer without a second’s hesitation. So it was somewhat inexplicable, even to me, that I had not yet found the time to linger there until my second-last day in the city. I will keep you out of suspense by disclosing that what I mean is the amazing Kyoto Garden in Holland Park. I mean where else in a city would you see masses of azaleas blooming in vivid colors in the spring? Where could you tune the rest of the world right out as you listened to the soothing sounds of a tumbling cascade accumulating foamy water in a rock pool filled with giant koi? Where could you linger as peacocks, yes peacocks, came to say Hello and rewarded you with glimpses of their stunning tail feathers? Where could you pause to appreciate the calming qualities of Zen minimalist landscaping design? I have done all of the above in the gardens that were gifted to the UK by the Government of Japan. It amazes me that this place is not mobbed—but thank goodness it isn’t. I have the happiest memories of whiling away the hours grading my students’ papers on the stone benches of this garden while glancing occasionally at herons darting into the pool. I also have happy memories of introducing Chriselle to this memorable spot—a spot she too grew to love—as we chased peacocks for pictures on the park’s lawns.
            So naturally, I stopped there to relive those happy memories at the fag end of my London stay. I nibbled on my lunch—Carluccio’s take-out offerings. Savoring them quietly, I paused to give thanks for a brilliant month that will always remain in my memory as a marvelous time for self-reflection and self-growth in a city I adore.
           
Reliving the Romance of a TV Show:
            Then, because I was in Holland Park, I left the Kyoto Gardens behind me and arrived in the Orangery. The Belvedere Restaurant by Marco Pierre White, one of London’s best-regarded chefs, was right beside me. Since I hadn’t clicked any pictures from the terrace on the evening I was at the party thrown by my friends the Harveys, three weeks ago, I asked permission of the receptionist to do so this time. She readily agreed and up I went to the terrace which overlooks the formal Italianate Garden in which key scenes from my favorite TV show of all time were shot: As Time Goes By. This is the scene in which a young Lionel Hardcastle (Geoffey Palmer) meets a young Jean Pargiter (Judi Dench) for the first time and asks her the way to Curzon Street. I clicked a few pictures there as well as ones of the bench on which Jean pauses during her lunch break when she encounters a breathless jogger.
Yes, yes, I know I am quite quite hopeless when it comes to ATGB so you must forgive me my idiosyncratic excesses; but coming to Holland Park is always for me, a pilgrimage of sorts in the same way that Beatles devotees go to the crosswalk on Abbey Road and pose for pic there. See the similarity? So I am not that cracked after all, right?
More Shopping:
            Using the more conventional exit by which I USUALLY leave Holland Park, I arrived at Kensington High Street. This gave me the opportunity to check out a couple of thrift stores before I crossed the street and went to Waitrose to buy my stock of Ainsley Herriot powdered soups that are a staple in the Almeida household and much loved by Llew and me. With a dozen packets in my possession, I left my favorite pantry in the world and hopped on a bus again.
Off to Buy A ‘Stick’:
I rode it all the way to Bloomsbury as the next item on my To-Do List was buying myself a good quality umbrella from James and Co. at Bloomsbury, one of the oldest ‘stick’ shops in the country. Indeed it was in business at a time when gentlemen carried walking sticks—then a most fashionable accessory. Today with walking sticks no longer de rigeur, the shop sells umbrellas and very expensive ones too with fancy carved handles, real crocodile skin embellishment and sturdy frames as only the English can make them. I was fed up of the el cheapoJapanese ones that bend at the slightest sign of a wind so procuring a good umbrella was on my list.
            Alas, I did not find one that was pretty enough for my liking. I particularly wanted one with beige tones to match my Burberry trench raincoat and not finding anything appealing enough, I sadly walked out of the store empty handed. Perhaps on my next trip to London, I shall find the right one for which I will not mind forking out 100 pounds or more!
An Errand at NYU and the Post Office:
            Well, at that point my day went downhill. I decided to stop briefly at NYU to find out how much I owed for the mailing of my printed material to the States only to find that my box was still sitting in the mail room and hadn’t been send off. This meant an unexpected trudge to the Post Office at Holborn with Mark, our porter, to get rates and when we discovered how expensive it was to ship by surface through Royal Mail, we balked and decided to use the courier service instead.
So we trudged back to Bedford Square and Mark promised me that the parcel will be couriered first thing on Monday. I can only hope all my books, notes and other research material will reach me intact and soon.
Tea with Roz:
            It was almost 5,00 pm and I was late by half an hour for my cuppa with my friend Roz on Tottenham Court Road. I had left my jacket at her home in Battersea and she had kindly brought it to work for me to pick up. We planned to have a cuppa for the last time before my departure and seeing how distressed I was over my parcel, she marched me off to Yumcha for a pot of Chelsea Chai. And sitting and chatting with her and laughing at little things as we often do, my distress became a thing of the past. It was just wonderful to sit in (yet another) coffee shop and shoot the breeze with one of my dearest friends in London—probably for a very long time to come.
Home Finally:
            I said goodbye to Roz, got on the Tube at Goodge Street and headed back to Amen Court. I had wanted a short rest before I left for my evening’s dinner appointment, but the NYU wild good chase had delayed me. So all I had time to do was freshen up and change and leave the house again for my 6. 45 pm appointment with Bande Hassan, Llew’s former colleague and now close family friend.
Dinner with a Dear Friend:
            I took the Tube to Marble Arch and met him at Portman Square as decided and we strolled the couple of block to the London Hilton Hotel where the famous Italian restaurant Locanda Locatelli is located. We were soon joined by Kiran, yet another of his invitees, and then we gave ourselves up to the fun and relaxation of a great evening in superb company with amazing cuisine. Service, as befits a great restaurant, was impeccable and my red prawn risotto with zucchini flowers were perfect. For dessert I had a chocolate fondant with a pistachio sauce center served with “milk ice-cream” while also nibbling on the selection of sorbets ordered for the table: passionfruit and apricot, strawberry, apple. Delightful! Indeed, Locanda Locatlelidoes not have its great reputation for nothing and we were fully satisfied.
            It was about 10.00 pm, when I bid goodbye to my host and thanked him for his generosity. He and Kiran walked me to the Tube and I was home by 10. 15 pm and in bed by 11.00 after what had been a day of purposeful agenda completion—but above all, a chance to meet my London friends without whom my stays in this city are simply not the same. I had started and ended my day with good friends and to me that was made it exceptional.
            Until tomorrow, cheerio!

A Day in the Kentish Countryside–Leeds Castle & Bearsted

Aug9


Thursday, August 8, 2013

Leeds, Kent
We could not have asked for a better day for gamboling in the Kentish countryside—I mean it was a beaut. All that oppressive heat and humidity of four weeks ago has given way to the lovely cool summer for which England is known—and, of course, it has to happen when I am getting ready to leave. Trust my lousy luck! Still, as the English say, Can’t Complain…so I will not!
            I did get to 8.00am Mast at St. Paul’s Cathedral with Cynthia (Michael was saying it), had a quick granola breakfast with lemony tea and was off on the Tube to Northolt where my friend Bash had instructed me to meet him. We were on one of our habitual jaunts into the country to which Bash always treats me because he has a car and is a very compliant driver. Over the years since I have known him, we have scoured Kent, the Cotswolds, Sussex, with Wiltshire thrown in for good measure. This time, I was excited as he was bringing along his new lady friend Kim and I was the happy witness to their new-found togetherness. Once I was introduced to Kim who turned out to be a fun person and very jolly compatible company indeed, we set off on our longish drive to Kent. We were headed to Leeds Castle where we intended to spend the day. I felt honored as both Bash and Kim had taken the day off from work to accompany me on this excursion.
Leeds Castle was Mobbed:
            A very easy drive on motorways throughout with just a few traffic glitches got us to Leeds castle by midday. I was simply stunned to see the number of cars in the car park—clearly Brits are enjoying ‘staycations’ this year as their weather has never been so warm and hospitable. And, as I said, today was blissful. We strolled from car park to ticket booth past glorious parkland for such ancient piles come with massive packets of land in real estate gifts that were bestowed long centuries ago by royal edict for services rendered.
            The entry fee was steep: 21.50 pounds per head—but it is valid for the year. So it makes sense to reach there at 10.00 am if possible to truly enjoy all that the day out at Leeds Castle can offer. And there is plenty. Apart from a Grand Tour of the Castle, there was the vast grounds in which to picnic—some very sensible people had brought along those typical English hampers that are so quintessentially a part of an English summer. There are golf courses, lakes on which large craft ply for the amusement of kids, trains that ferry passengers from ticket booth to castle entrance as the walks to and fro can be pretty exhausting, falconry displays and get this…even punting on the castle moat for a skinny 5 pounds. Had we arrived earlier and brought a picnic, we could have included this lovely activity in our agenda. But, of course, as always, we were hard pressed for time to fit it all in.
           
A Brief History of Leeds Castle:
            The history of Leeds Castle is long and complicated—suffice it to say that it is mentioned already in the Domesday Book of 1076. It is named agfer Esledes, the original owner of the castle and property. Title deeds changed hands several times until Richard II becomes involved. Once in royal hands, the castle was extended and spruced up, Its most notorious owner was Henry VIII who gifted it to his first wife Katherine of Aragon who took occupancy and cozied it up. In the 18th century, it fell in the hands of the Fairfax family who eventually moved to Fairfax, Virginia. In the 20th century, when the owners were bankrupt, they sold it to an American heiress named Bailie who was subsequently made a Baroness. She hired the French interior decorator Stephane Boudin to modernize the place and make it livable. His touches are very distinct and her living spaces are the most warm and friendly.
From the medieval to the Tudor to the contemporary, a tour of the castle presents a fine contrast in exterior and interior decorating styles and a history, one might say, of the manner in which the rich and privileged have lived through the centuries. There is a medieval fountain, for instance, set in a gabled courtyard that is lovely and four carved marble busts of Henry VIII and his three children: Mary Tudor, Elizabeth I and Edward VI. There are red boxes containing official papers that were used in important international conventions such as the Camp David summit in 1978 as Leeds Castle was often used as the venue for such high-level meetings and negotiations. There is the oldest life-size equestrian sculpture in the world and a strong box that dates from medieval times. And, above all, there are the stunning views of the property and the moat from every window on every level that give the entire place a most glorious feel.
            And it is in the moat that the punting takes place. You can sit and allow yourself to be rowed in the bucolic environment past vistas of the castle and under arched bridges that must be simply fabulous. Alas, we did not have the chance to do that as we were simply starving by the time we finished touring the castle and had to get lunch urgently.
A volunteer guide suggested we skip the castle restaurant which was pricey and go instead to the Village of Leeds to a pub named The George Inn. We complied quite readily, took the train for 50 p per head, got back into our cars and headed to Leeds Village. We found The George Inn easily enough, poked around inside, ordered our drinks (Pimms, of course, as it was the perfect day for such indulgence) and then sat outside on the picnic tables under jolly red umbrellas to pig out on pub grub:  fish and chips (for me—can’t leave England without it), steak and ale pie for Kim and hot toasted sausage and caramelized onion sandwiches for Bash. Indeed it was a memorable lunch and we spent a grand hour lingering over it all.
Cricket on the Bearsted Green:
            My guide book 25 Day Trips from London had recommended that we do not miss Bearsted Village when we visit Leeds Castle and so I passed on the recommendation to Bash. We decided to forego punting on the moat at Leeds Castle and instead made our way to the car after lunch to go in search of Bearsted. It took some seeking as the Green which is the heart of the village is approached through a discreet side street. But find it we did and we spent the best couple of hours just lingering in this lovely gracious Kentish village which is the stuff of which poems are written.
            So all the elements that make the perfect English village are in place here: St. Mary’s Church, the village watering hole, a small but classy restaurant (The Oak on the Green), loads of Tudor style houses (some so higgledy-piggledy they could actually belong to the Tudors), and of course, the distinctive Oast houses of Kent in which hops were placed for drying to make Kentish beer. These were all very much in evidence and what’s more, they were all placed, as if by deliberate design, around a gorgeous Green—a vast expanse of green compound on which kids rode their bikes, played cricket with their Dads, mums walked babies in strollers and guys brought their dogs out for a run (one looked suspiciously like Ferris—I simply had to pinch myself to believe it wasn’t him!). The Green happened to be named after Alfred Myns, a Victorian cricketer who hailed from this village and as a left-hander had brought batting glory to these parts. The village sign bears a portrait of this cricketer playing the game on the Green in a top hat (which, my cricketer friend Bash informed us—he captains the Kenton Eleven team) was how the game was played in Victorian times when it was only the pursuit of Lords! How very interesting.
           
Tea in the Local:
            By them, as Kim put it, we could all murder for a cup of tea—and so in we went to the pub right behind us for a pot of Earl Grey. And how very welcome it was too! More chit chatting in a gastro pub filled with fresh flowers saw us while away some more time. When the village clock chimed seven o clock, we reluctantly raised ourselves up from the coziness of our sofas and returned to the car for the lovely drive home.
                Bash and Kim stopped briefly at Amen Court to say Hello to Cynthia and Michael before heading back to Harrow.
Dinner Chez Colclough:

            It was a quiet but companionable dinner: fish cakes with salad and hummus with ice-cream for dessert. After dinner, we sat with my PC so Cynthia could see some of my cruise pictures and then it was time to go to bed after an amazing day.
            Until tomorrow, Cheerio!

Careening Around Canary Wharf and Charterhouse

Aug7


Wednesday, August 7, 2013

London
            Having woken up by 6.00 am and launched straight into my work, I did not wish to break off at 8.00 am to attend Mass. I, therefore, continued to stay at my computer until almost 9.00 am—which was three solid hours of work—before I went downstairs to join Cynthia for breakfast. I enjoyed her delicious porridge with tea and then it was time for me to start my packing particularly since I wished to see how I am doing with weight restrictions. About an hour later, having sorted my possessions and decided how best to divide them between my single bag and my hand baggage, I got ready to leave. There were a few places I wished to go to and a few places I wished to see before the day was through.
Church-Crawling:
I did the equivalent of a pub crawl this morning in that I did a church crawl. Having found the Wren and Hawksmore churches closed yesterday, I made one more attempt to enter them today. My first stop was the Church of St. Stephen Walbrook where I had the chance to take in Sir Christopher Wren’s prototype for St. Paul’s Cathedral. It is true that going by the plain exterior of the church with its single spire, one would never imagine that the interior could be quite so gorgeous. And it was superb. The inside of the dome is embellished with fine plaster tracery work. There is a grand altar reredos and a pulpit in dark carved wood and the altar, designed by none other than Henry Moore is a solid marble slab which some describe as a lump of cheese. Large powerful Greek pillars hold up the structure whose Neo-Classical principles of design and decoration are simply splendid.
            This church is also famous for the fact that its former Vicar, one Chad Varah, initiated the institution of the Samaritans, an organization that provides assistance to people in despair. They are taught to simply ring the number that used to be “Mansion 9000” when it was founded. The number took the caller straight to a live person on the other end who would then talk the caller out of the desire to commit a desperate act. The Samaritans still do their incredible work today and have saved several lives in the process. But it all began in this church which used to be the official church of the Lord Mayor of London (as Mansion House, the Mayor’s official residence is next door). The original telephone used to initiate this mission of mercy is kept in a glass case in the church.
With this mission accomplished, I crossed the street and entered the church of St. Mary Woolnoth which was designed by Wren’s pupil, Nicholas Hawksmoor. It was also open and I had a chance to take in its interior which sported the main features of the typical Anglican church. But clearly, in this case, it is the exterior design that is striking.
Careening Around Canary Wharf:
       I had never been to Canary Wharf other than to pass it on the DLR train when headed to Greenwich. Having heard so much about this part of London, I decided to take the Tube to get there and to wander around and explore a bit. For the uninitiated, Canary Wharf became the center of London’s banking industry, a few years ago, when they moved from the overcrowded City to this bend on the Thames. The largest banking enterprises are here—they were swiftly followed by the journalism industry that abandoned Fleet Street (apparently, the 18thand 19th century buildings were no longer able to sustain the vast amount of wiring and cable laying that digital technology demanded). Hence, the move to new state-of-the-art premises.
            Well, as might be expected, Canary Wharf is like the Nariman Point of Bombay or Hoboken in New Jersey—areas that have sprouted like mushrooms in recent years to accommodate the thrust of commerce and industry ever upwards. It is a maze of sky scrapers—all glass and chrome, but not at all a concrete jungle because clever landscaping prevents it from such terrible degradation. Instead, there is a vast artificial lake, well spaced out promenades, wide open patios for enjoying good weather and an excellent network of transport channels that make it very easily accessible. I browsed among its many restaurants because folks who work here (generally having deep pockets) need to eat—hence Carluccios, the Slug and Lettuce, One Bar, etc. are all located in this space. I could easily have spent longer lingering among its many malls, but I had to get on with my day, so I bought some caponata and a lemon tart from Carluccios for my lunch and hopped back on the Tube to get back home.
Off to NYU and SOAS for Meetings:
            Back home, I picked up another lot of papers, books, files and photocopied material that I needed to mail back home to the States and got on the bus to drop them off at NYU. I did not have much time to linger, as I had a meeting with an anthropologist at the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London to talk about drafting a proposal to the British publishers for my book. The meeting took place in the Staff Common Room on the first floor of the building in which I have often attended meetings and performances in the basement auditorium in the years gone by.
            When the meeting ended, I returned to NYU and spent the next couple of hours working steadily as well as preparing my box for mailing with the help of the porters Mo and Mark who are always so accommodating to me.
In the Footsteps of Carthusian Monks:
            My next port of call was what is known as Charterhouse near Smithfield Market. I had forgotten how exactly to reach it, but by hopping on a 55 bus, I remembered that I ought to get off at St. John’s Lane (one of my former haunts when I had lived at Cowcross Lane near Farringdon Tube station). I walked through the ancient St. John’s Doorway that had once seen knights ride through it on their way to the Holy Land and then I was at Smithfield Market and entering the vast property of Charterhouse.
            The name Charter-house comes from Chartres in France from where the first Carthusian monks originated. By the 1100s, they had reached this location and set up a monastery complete with priory church and cloisters—monks cloistered themselves from the world and once they entered the monastery had no more contact with the secular world.
            Through my friend Bishop Michael, I was able to join a tour group that was led by a Brother known as Douglas Ellison. He was introducing himself to a group of about 20 visitors who had arrived from various venues. A brief history of the Carthusiasns brought us to the founder, a knight named John de Many of the Middle Ages who is still well remembered and honored in these premises. The history then swung to the Tudor period when the original medieval buildings were pulled down and a fancy Tudor mansion was built complete with Great Hall (used then for dining and still used for the same purpose) and a chapel—both of which we visited on the tour. The interior of the chapel is filled with commemorative tombs, etc. to one Thomas Sutton who founded the Charterhouse School for Boys with which some very prominent names are associated—such as John Wesley, founder of the Methodists; Lord Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scouts and William Makepeace Thackeray, the novelist, all of whom were students at this school. The coat of arms of the Sutton Family which includes a species of dog similar to a grey hound, are to be found everywhere.
There were also references to the four Carthusian monks who were horribly treated during the Reformation for defying Henry VIII’s edicts. They were led away from the monastery (after the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1538) to Tyburn where they were hung, drawn and quartered—a really horrific way to die. Each year, on the anniversary of their martyrdom, they are remembered at an ecumenical service that includes the Catholic clergy, in the premises. I was told that a red rose is laid on the ground to represent each of the martyrs who died that awful day. Needless to say, they were only four of the several thousands of monks and priors who refused to accept Henry VIII’s new laws and perished. Sir Thomas More, perhaps the most famous of the lot that defied Henry, was also briefly a student at this school and indeed when one tours the Tudor buildings, one very much expects to see him turn a corner.
            We were taken into the Grand Hall both upstairs and down. The buildings also suffered severe bomb damage during the War and were effectively restored and refurbished, so that many different architectural styles are evident as well as layers of stone work that are different with every passing age. It is a vast space with many different courtyards (the Master’s Court, the Wash House Court, etc). Part of the ancient Norman cloister still remains, but it is in a very unfinished state. There are 41 brothers living on the premises today under the leadership of a Master and in the presence of a Preacher (one Hugh Williams, a friend of Michael’s, who came out to say hello and greet me which was very sweet of him indeed). The tour was very enlightening and told me a lot about the place and the manner in which it has evolved over the centuries. The boy’s school eventually moved to Godalming in Surrey (where it currently exists as a very exclusive fee-paying private school) leaving the space free for the contemporary brothers. Since the place does not receive any government funding and depends entirely on grants, it is trying hard to link with the Museum of London to publicize the place (which is used for the shooting of many period films) and to attract private tour groups to take in its many interior and exterior charms. I have to say that though I enjoyed every minute of the tour, it was tiring as it went on for almost 2 hours.       
Dinner at Maze by Gordon Ramsay:
            I got back home to Amen Court by bus and took a short rest before getting ready for my evening’s plans. I was taking my host friends Michael and Cynthia and Rosemary (Roz) to dinner to thank them for being so generous with their hospitality towards me while I was a guest at their home. It was indeed a small gesture but the only way by which I could show my appreciation to them. We had 6. 45 pm reservations at Maze, the upscale restaurant by Gordon Ramsay where I had taken other friends only a few days ago. We took the Tube to Bond Street and then walked five minutes to Grosvenor Square where we were seated and awaited Roz who arrived about ten minutes later.
            Well, the food was fantastic and my guests enjoyed it enormously. We each chose a total of four courses—savory and sweet–and with the conversation flowing around the table, we made friends with our waiter Naveen who turned out to be a Catholic from Mangalore. The food was really excellent and the presentation and service simply superb. We thoroughly enjoyed it and before we could quite grasp the fact, it was almost 10. 00 pm.
A Bus Ride Through the London Night:
            We ended our evening with a bus ride on a double decker No. 11 bus that allowed us to enjoy the City by night with all the lights illuminating the many monuments of the capital. Roz gave us a ride in her car to Victoria Road where we were able to hop into a bus going home. Buckingham Palace and the Victoria Memorial were beautifully lit as were Westminster Abbey and Big Ben Tower. The renovation of the Cenotaph on Whitehall has been completed and the monument glows in a golden light. Trafalgar Square’s fountains are no longer blue for the new heir to the throne—they spout water in different colors. The Strand was vibrant with throngs just emerging form the theaters opposite the Savoy Hotel or from the restaurants of Covent Garden. Sitting upstairs we had box-side views of the proceedings down below and it was great seeing the city from this perspective at night when electric light added magic and mystique to this most architecturally stunning of urban landscapes.
            We were home by 11.00 pm and ready to call it a day.
Until tomorrow, cheerio!                     

Being a Sloan Ranger in Chelsea and Knightsbridge

Aug6


Tuesday, August 6, 2013:
London
Being a Sloan Ranger in Chelsea and Knightsbridge

            My day began with 8.00 am Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral that I attended with my friend Cynthia whose husband, Bishop Michael was saying it. It was the feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord and was, therefore, said in the special American Chapel in the back of the cathedral—a chapel that was created by the people of Great Britain in appreciation of American effort in World War II and in memory of the Americans who died giving their lives for the defence of Europe. It was a very moving service indeed after which we met a couple of folks from Kerala—one was a Roman Catholic priest from the Bronx in New York, Fr. Jose; and the other was his nephew Shibu John, a scientist with Royal Brompton Hospital in London. Michael ended up inviting the two of them to his place for breakfast so we spent some time over porridge and toast and tea chatting with them. Today was also the morning I decided to go out and get my special breakfast from Paul’s—almond croissant with a hot chocolate (as only Paul can make it). Such yumminess! I carried it over to Amen Court and had it while Cynthia prepared breakfast for her unexpected guests.
           
Off to Chelsea:
            After breakfast, I sat working for a couple of hours. Then, Cynthia and Michael and I set out for Chelsea by Tube to see the flat into which they will soon be moving. We stopped at Trinity Church en route at Sloan Street to pay a visit—it is a beautiful Arts and Crafts Church with stained glass windows by the Pre-Raphaelites William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones. We spent a little while in prayer after which we stopped briefly inside the Jo Malone showroom for a sample spray. It was then time for us to get to the flat and survey it. Michael and Cynthia were so proud and happy to show me their new place. It is a gorgeous flat, bright, light, spacious and yet not overwhelming. They are indeed deeply blessed to have it. We sat and had a cup of coffee together and then I was off, leaving them to get back home.
Becoming a Sloan Ranger:
            I spent the next few hours doing one of the things I most love to do when I am in London—dallying on the King’s Road and browsing through its thrift shops for antique jewelry and vintage finds. On and off the 22 bus I stepped, stopping off at all the stores that are my usual haunts. And I rode all the way to the Mary Portas shop at Parson’s Green. Indeed it was my lucky day because I found a genuine Sadler’s Brown Betty teapot, an antique hand painted porcelain cup and saucer to add to my collection, an interesting necklace with twin interlocked hearts and a set of four Swarovski crystal candleholders that were all splendid buys. Indeed, as Cynthia put it, I did very well with my vintage browsing. It was also great to simply slink around Sloan Square and Sloan Street like the Sloan rangers of the 60s. Interestingly, I did actually enter the Vivienne Westwood store—the very place from which the designer made her daring debut in punk fashion that heralded the arrival of punk culture. It is a rather iconic store and I was glad to be there.
Off to Knightsbridge and Harrods:
            I could hardly believe that it is the last week of my stay here in London and I have not yet entered Harrod’s. Had I gone there as soon as I arrived, I might have had a glimpse of their half-yearly sale. There were no sales, alas, but I was there specifically to buy a Christmas pudding to carry off home and I was pleased to have a first shot at their newest stock that has just come in. I also bought a box of biscuits for my friend Bina to whose place I was headed in the afternoon. Harrodsalso gave me a chance to browse a bit in its famous Food Halls, took in its gift sections and then left.

Dinner with Friends in Harrow:

            On the bus across the street I jumped only to get off at Green Park Tube station from where I took the Tube to Euston. I was headed to Harrow to spend the evening with my childhood friend Bina who has lived in London for 25 years with her husband Naveen. At Euston, I followed the signs to the Main Line Overground trains and reached Harrow at 5. 15 pm after dozing off a couple of times on the train! Bina was waiting for me in her car at Harrow and Wealdstone station and off we went to her place.
            We spent the rest of the evening, as always, chatting and catching up. In a short time, Navin arrived and joined us for dinner. Bina and I always have a great deal to say as we go back a long way having first made friends when we were but 13 years old. Our friendship has stood the test of time and it is always a delight to meet up with her and her family in London.
            Dinner was vegetarian as Bina sticks to a non-meat meal on Tuesdays—we had rice and dal with chick peas and a mixed vegetable. By the time we were done with her delicious meal, it was 8. 45 and I was ready to leave. They dropped me back to the station and I took the fast train to get back to Euston from where I got to St. Paul’s on the Tube.
            Cynthia and Michael were admiring and envious of my buys and keep wondering how I am possibly going to carry these loads off to the States—frankly, I am wondering too! I had a bowl of vanilla ice-cream with chocolate sauce and Michael’s homemade flapjacks before I excused myself and went up to bed.