Tag Archive | Richmond

A Christmas ‘Panto’ in Richmond and Hyde Park’s Winter Wonderland

Dec18

Thursday, December 18, 2008
London

My guests arrived when I was beginning to despair–close to noon. I had expected them at least an hour earlier, but used the time to finalize my own packing as well as seeing to the last-minute items on my To-Do List.

With little time to spare after we said our first Hellos, I ushered Jenny-Lou and her daughter Kristen to the underground station for our long ride to Hammersmith from where we changed lines to get to Richmond. I was afraid it would take us much longer to get there and was relieved when we arrived at Richmond with a good 45 minutes to spare. This left us time to pick up sandwiches from Tesco which we ate while overlooking Richmond’s spacious Green, right behind the bustle of the shopping area which is called The Quadrant. Then, ten minutes later, we were inside the theater, picking up tickets that were held for me at the Box Office.

No one was more surprised than I to find the theater packed to the rafters with the tiniest little school kids out on a field trip with their long-suffering teachers. Every seat was occupied and the little ones were squirming in their seats with excitement. Peter Pan was the perfect play for this age group–most under seven years of age. I had such a blast sitting in the midst of these lovely innocent angels and watching their reactions. From everything I had read about this typically British tradition of the pantomime, it is a highly interactive form of drama in which the audience participates fully, warning the hero and heroine about the approach of the ‘baddies’ who hide behind the rocks or shows their appreciation not just by clapping their hands but by stamping their feet as well and shouting till they’re hoarse. Bonnie Langford’s Peter Pan was wonderfully lively and her flying through the stage, though now technologically old-hat was still marvelous enough for the little kids to stare open-mouthed in amazement. As for Captain Hook, played by the one and only Simon Callow, he was superb and seemed to be having the most fun. I was delighted to find an old song I had learnt when I was myself in primary school, “We’re following the Leader” as well as, most unexpectedly, Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock” both featured in the show –the latter with slightly different lyrics!!! Overall, I had a superbly entertaining time at the theater and was glad that my very first British ‘panto’ was a resounding success. Jenny and Kristen loved it too and were as charmed as I was by the vigour with which the audience got involved.

Back on the Tube, we got off at Hyde Park Corner, which made it very convenient for us to visit the Winter Wonderland about which everyone has been raving. Each time I have passed by Hyde Park in the past few weeks, I have been attracted to the giant ferris wheel and the lights in the trees and the general mood of merriment that surrounds the park. Entry to the park was free, but as soon as we reached the first stall, we knew we were in for a rare treat. The Wonderland turned out to be a German Christmas Fair complete with food stalls, shops selling distinctively German Christmas handicrafts and a variety of awesome rides that were most unusual and extraordinarily tasteful. Jenny and Kristen went on the Big Scream Roller coaster and Kristen walked through the Maze of Mirrors. We picked up steaming hot Gluhwein (hot mulled wine) and hot chocolate for Kristen,and walked with our glasses as they warmed our hands effectively. Not that they needed much warming. After weeks of awful weather, it was unseasonably mild tonight which made our stroll in the park very pleasurable indeed. For dinner, we chose to eat a variety of items–all German, all carb-heavy. Kristen opted for bratwurst in a long toasted roll, Jenny was attracted to a plate of hot boiled potatoes seasoned with bacon and I chose a big bowl of sauteed mushrooms served with a garlic sauce. For dessert. we picked up a paper cone filled with crisp honey roasted cashew nuts and almonds–so yummy! We walked right to the very end of the fair to take in the bungie jumpers and the huge ferris wheel that was beautifully lit up and filled the entire area with a festive spirit.

When we’d reached the banks of the Serpentine, we turned around and talked towards the exit, then hopped into a bus that took us to Marble Arch from where we caught another bus that went along the lengths of Oxford and Regent Streets. This gave us all a chance to marvel at the holiday lights which everyone says are more spectacular than usual this year. Shoppers still crowded the streets and the stores and since everything is handsomely discounted, hopefully Christmas this year will not be as doleful as the economists predict.

When the bus arrived at Aldwych, we jumped off and walked the short distance along Waterloo Bridge to get to the South Bank where I had heard that a Continental Market was on. However, by the time we arrived there, it was winding down and the stall owners were calling it a day. It was time for us to think about getting home. My guests had arrived from the New Jersey and were starting to feel the difference in time zones get to them.

Back in my flat, Jenny and I sat down to chat for a bit over cups of tea before I made up the sofa bed for them in the living room and we decided to call it a night. It had been a memorable day and I was pleased that I had their company as I covered two more Must-Do items on my holiday list–a London pantomime and the Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park.

Now I must turn my own thoughts homewards and start to think of all the things I need to do to get well and truly ready for Christmas in Connecticut.

Looking Back Over Four Months in London

Dec17

Wednesday, December 17, 2008
London

I fell in love with London a long time ago–22 years ago to be precise–and I have never felt any differently. If anything, the past four months have deepened my attachment to this city. It is a funny feeling–to be a Londoner and a visitor at the same time. Despite the fact that I have worked here, the last four month have felt like an endless vacation.

Yet, so much water has flowed under the Thames since Llew and I hauled our eight suitcases out of the cab that balmy summer’s night in August. Even though I have scoured the furthest reaches of this city so thoroughly that I ended up with an inflammation of my plantar fasciia, I still feel as if I have only scratched the surface. Every night before I fall asleep, I think with wonder about all the things I will do the next day. As Robert Frost wrote, I literally feel as if I have miles to go before I sleep!!!

So what have I accomplished in nearly four months? Well, I have taken about 6 self-guided walking tours that introduced me to corners tucked far away from prying eyes and quarters whose cobbled streets are hoary with history. Clubs and pubs, churches and cathedrals, sprawling parks and secret gardens, museums and art galleries, colleges and libraries…I have been there, done that, and felt fiercely fulfilled. I started a systematic study of the collections in the National Gallery and, before my feet gave way, completed my perusal of the Sainsbury Wing. In the British Museum, which I visited often, I saw the remnant highlights of so many ancient cultures. I also ‘did’ the Tate London, the Geffrye Museum and the National Portrait Gallery and will keep the Tate Modern and the Victoria and Albert Museum for next semester.

Professionals entertained and delighted me everywhere I went through theater and opera. In the Globe Theater, I marvelled at the Shakespearean magic of the verse and the virtuosity of the players. I saw celebrity actors whose names have shone often in lights–Dame Aileen Atkins and Ian McDiarmid, Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders and Vanessa Redgrave. Not just were these thespians quite splendid on stage but the venues in which they performed were equally astonishing–from the Vaudeville Theater at the Strand to the historic Drury Lane Theater, each interior was a masterpiece of design and decoration hinting at the fact that, over the centuries, a visit to the theater was a glitzy occasion indeed.

As for cuisine, what a long way London has come. I have tasted Vietnamese pho and Turkish mezes, sampled the variety to be found on a thali and in the sleight of hand of Italian chefs who have a magical way with pasta. The foodie in me was deeply satisfied by the culinary offerings of every curve of the globe. I had thought that being alone in the city, I would probably never eat out at all. How pleasantly surprized I was to receive invitiations from new friends and generous neighbors who took me out to meals that were superlative as well as entertained me in their own domains with their own home-cooked signature dishes–not to mention the friendship provided by my colleague Karen and her husband Douglas, foodies both with a connoissuer’s palate to boot. I have eaten candy from a bygone era with names like honeycomb and eclairs and rum bonbons; as for my inner chocoholic, why, it was more than pleased by truffles flavored with honey and strawberries, lavender and coffee in Hope and Greenwood’s old fashioned shop as much as it was tantalized by the offerings of the more pricey French and Belgain chocolatiers.

Talking about cuisine, marketing has become for me the high point of my week. Never having shopped at street markets previously, I have become addicted to the one on Leather Lane where I buy my stock of Greek dolmas and mozzarella cheese, sun dried tomatoes and pesto. In the Food Halls at Harrods and Fortnum and Mason, I have been seduced by the novelty of steamed puddings with peculiar names: sticky toffee and spotted dick; by jams such as rhubarb and ginger and three fruit marmalade; fruity flapjack biscuits and ginger and orange cookies laced with chocolate have enticed me incessantly and become my ‘tea’ accompaniments; even the crisps have exotic flavorings such as Thai red chilli and roast beef with mustard, barbecued chicken and garlic with lemon grass; I have tasted elderflower wine and lavender honey, little tubs of potted shrimps and smoked salmon pate, artisinal cheeses from every farm in the country and Stiltons studded with apricot and ginger, dried dates and candied oranges. For breakfast, I have eaten sausages with strange names like chipolata and Cumberland and I can never decide which ones are tastier. And then Yuletide brought its own share of irresistible treats: mulled wine and mince pies, I discovered, are every bit as scrumptious as they sound. And when I have felt homesick for a curry, why, the likes of Marks and Spencer, Sainsbury and Tesco have been only to happy to oblige my native tastes with their offerings of Lamb Rogan Josh and Prawn Vindaloo, and Chicken every which way you can imagine–Makhanwalla, Jalfrezi, Korma and Tikka Masala! I am ashamed to say that I have almost stopped cooking, so eager have I been to sample local delicacies…and I have rarely been disappointed.

It is hard for me to believe that only a few miles within Greater London lie quaint villages that border the placid Thames, each characterized by snooty estates and picturesque ponds with trailing willows and hungry mallards. At Old Isleworth, I visited magnificent Syon House and Park. I gazed upon gold-fringed trees at Richmond Hill and enjoyed the view that Mick Jagger gazes on daily from his own bedroom window; while at Richmond Park I looked upon huge herds of deer roaming freely in the watery autumn sunshine. At Barnes, I crossed the sprawling haunted ‘Commons’ that gave me the creeps.

The second best part of being in London was discovering the bus system and the wallet-friendly Monthly Pass that took me to parts of the city that I never knew existed. I had always love the Tube but I have now developed an affection for those lumbering red double deckers as well. I went to Ealing and Greenford, Harrow and Acton, Shoreditch and Stratford and even to Essex in the course of my research–parts of the city that were distant yet cost me mere pennies per mile covered.

The best part of being in London, however, has been the new friends I have made who reached out their hands so warmly in friendship. For a country whose people (at least in the States) have a reputation for reserve that has been politely referred to as European sang-froid, I have found the English deeply welcoming and genuinely eager to share their homes and their hearts with me. My next-door neighbors, Tim and Barbara have been an incredible blessing as has Milan who lives down the hall. Janie Yang who introduced me to her artsy friends has always been there for me. Cynthia and Bishop Michael Colclough showed concern when I was laid up at home and then provided me with a stack of tickets to so many marvelous cultural evenings at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Chriselle’s colleague Ivana has been a fun conpanion on walks in Chelsea and Battersea. I find it impossible to believe that four months ago I did not know any of these folks at all. As for living alone in the city (a prospect that offered its own load of concerns), I need never have worried. Between my concierge Arben and our janitor Martha, I am waited on hand and foot and I feel throughly pampered by their care and attention.

Like Bill Bryson and Susan Allen Toth and other travel writers who fell under the spell of the city, I too am quite besotted by London and I can’t wait to resume my rambles come the new year.

More Of the BL’s Treasures and Christmas Shopping on the High Street

Dec17

Wednesday, December 17, 2008
London

With most of my packing done, my laundry all folded away and placed in my suitcase, I put together the documents I needed for the Membership Renewal and set out for the British Library. It was such a gorgeous day…yes, I did actually say that! A gorgeous day in London in the winter is as rare as rare can be, so I was determined to enjoy it to the fullest! I didn’t have to wait too long before my documents were scrutinized, passed muster, an ID photograph clicked and my new 3-year Readers Card placed in my hand.

I set off straight away to the Riblat Gallery to see the rest of the Treasures of the British Museum (half of which I saw yesterday) and spent about an hour scrutinizing the cases devoted entirely to spiritual and religious manuscripts. Every religion was represented from Sikhism to Shinto. I saw ancient Bibles, including the Guttenberg Bible and Gospels, including the Lindisfarne Gospel. There were Persian illuminated manuscripts, Moghul ones, Maratha and Deccan ones, Sanskrit ones, Hindu and Jain texts–some in the shape of tortoises and cows. All of it was deeply fascinating. There was also a whole room devoted to the Magna Carta and I’d like to go back again, sometime in January perhaps, to study that carefully.

But retail therapy beckoned and since I haven’t shopped on the High Street at all since I first arrived here, and with so many gifts still to be purchased, I decided to hit Oxford Street and join the throng of Christmas buyers. I did find some very stylish things indeed for Chriselle and something that I hope Llew will like and then for me…though I did not intend to buy myself anything, it was just irresistible. In the HMV store, where I stopped to buy some audio visual material as gifts, I spied the entire Inspector Morse Collection, yes all 33 episodes of the series at less than 1/3 the price. The Complete Works normally cost 200 pounds and I was certainly not willing to pay that. But when I saw that it was specially priced, for a limited time only, at 65 pounds, well I have to say I succumbed and snatched it up.

My museum jaunt and my shopping spree tired me out and so I stepped into John Lewis (where the Christmas decorations are spectacular) and in the Coffee Shop, I ordered a pot of Fresh and Fruity Herbal tea which I sipped slowly with honey at a window seat while overlooking a lovely garden that stands behind Oxford Street. The skies were a clear beautiful blue and I had to pinch myself to believe that I was actually gazing out of a London window on a wintry day at such an uplifting sight. When I had quite lifted my spirits, I stepped out again and took the bus back home.

Some more packing was accomplished as I had to fit in the luxury Christmas crackers I bought to take home to Southport for our Christmas table. Then, when I was fairly sure that the 50th Golden Jubilee Commemorative tea set that I found for 10 pounds in a charity shop in Scotland was well wrapped and reasonably secure in my suitcase, I sat down to watch Reservation Road which Love Film.com has mailed me despite the fact that I have suspended my account for the month that I will be traveling.

And, I could not have watched a more appropriate film. I mean two days before I am back in picture-perfect Southport, I watched a movie that was set on the Connecticut coast. It prepared me for home and made me realize how much I’ve missed it. Last summer, when my neighbor Trish Donovan and I were on one of our daily morning constitutionals in Southport village, the entire Trinity Churchyard had been closed to the public as a film unit was in town shooting at various locations around the harbor. Trish had informed me that the name of the movie was Reservation Road and I had vowed to see it at that time.

The plot kept me spell bound. It is based around a hit and run accident that take places one dark night. A little boy is killed in a flash and the driver, who hesitates for just a little while, meaning to stop, then thinks better of it, drives away. The driver happens to be Dwight, a lawyer (played by Mark Ruffalo) who ends up taking on the case when the father of little Josh (played by Joaquin Phoenix) goes out to seek justice. As in almost all the movies I’ve seen and stories I’ve read about couples who attempt to resolve loss after the death of a child, the marriage goes through a dark patch as the father becomes obsessed with finding his son’s killer. With some superb acting and direction, the movie pulls at the viewer’s heart strings. You want justice for Josh’s parents but because you know that Dwight is not a bad guy and is dealing with his own set of emotional issues (a messy divorce and the shared custody of his son), you don’t want him to get caught either. It is certainly a movie worth seeing and one that I think I can include in my course on Grief-Management in Cross-Cultural Fiction. Be prepared to be reminded of another movie with the same theme also set on the North Atlantic coastline–In The Bedroom, which was based on the short story ‘The Killing’ by Andre Dubus III which is set in Maine and was shot in Camden.

Connecticut formed the perfect backdrop for the film. Not only is it cinematically spectacular, but the quiet suburban lifestyle is shattered by the turmoil created by this tragedy which succeeds in destroying so many lives. I can’t wait to tell Trish that I have seen the film, though I am sure she would have seen it herself by now.

And now with only two days to go before I arrive in Southport, I am looking forward tomorrow to the arrival of my friend Jenny-Lou and her daughter Kristen from New Jersey. We have tickets for a Christmas ‘panto’ (short for ‘pantomime’) in Richmond–Peter Pan, with Simon Callow (one of the country’s best-known actors playing Captain Hook). It should be a really good second last day of the year in the UK.

House of Lords, Banqueting House and “Wicked” at the West End

Nov14

Friday, November 14, 2008
London

Prince Charles turned 60 today and in his official birthday portrait, I realized with a start how much he has aged. Another Charles was very much in our thoughts as Llew and I toured the Banqueting Hall this morning…but let’s begin at the beginning.

BBC’s Breakfast Show reminded us repeatedly that it was “an unseasonably mild day for this time of year” and not intending to waste a minute of it, we set out on a self-guided walk entitled “Wanderings In Westminster”–what would we do without Frommer’s 24 Great Walks in London? We fuelled up well on a carb-heavy breakfast (Waitrose’s Muesli, Walnut Bread and Sainsbury’s Three Fruits Marmalade) and set out, somewhat lightly clad, much to our regret, for the day turned progressively cooler and we were freezing by the time we got home at 4 pm.

Still, the day started out beautifully and on the Route 11 bus from Fleet Street, we enjoyed inching our way slowly to Westminster Underground Station from where we launched into our rambles. First stop, The Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. We have, of course, admired those buildings often and from many angles–even on memorable landings into Heathrow airport at the crack of dawn. But never had we visited the interiors–simply because we always thought it involved a huge song and dance. Permission had to be obtained from local MPs, appointments had to be made, etc. etc. Well, we couldn’t have been more wrong. A jolly policeman at one of the security posts informed me quite simply that all I needed to do was walk a few meters ahead to a gate where entry to the House of Lords could easily be obtained.

Llew and I stared at each other in astonishment. Though a visit to Parliament was very much in my plans before I returned to the USA, neither one of us expected to tour the hallowed premises this morning. So, we couldn’t get over our good fortune when we were marched in through innumerable doors and heavy security gates that involved the taking of our pictures and the presentation of visitors passes, not to mention personal frisking and a surrender of our personal property, before we were permitted to enter. Since only the House of Lords was in session today, we were admitted into the ornate chamber that contained the even more ornate throne on which the monarch sits during her rare visits to the House. Immediately, we were struck by the similarity of these interiors with those of the Houses of Parliament in Budapest, Hungary, which had been modelled entirely on those of the UK and sits serenely upon the Danube. The elaborate decoration on walls and ceilings, floors and pillars that included gilding and sculpture and paintings left us unable to decide exactly on what we should focus. Best part of all was the long and somewhat forbidding Westminster Hall with its timbered ceiling and stone walls–the only part of the buildings that remained intact despite a catastrophic fire in the mid-1800s. It was here that we walked through the pages of funereal history, here that Thomas More appeared before the tribunals to plead his case before being sentenced to death, here where kings and queens have lain in state upon departing this life. It is hard to fathom how closely the stories of British Parliament are connected with the stories of royalty until one enters such august interiors and breathes the very air of solemnity that prevails.

We were seated in a queue until enough space was found in the galleries to accommodate us. When our turn finally arrived, we were ushered up a spiral staircase into the “Stranger’s Gallery” where antiquated notices on the wall informed that any form of participation would be considered “out of order”. Ha ha ha. As for the proceedings, there was a rather tedious presentation of an EU Committee Report on the increase of organ supply in the EU. A couple of people responded to the report, others shook their heads in a learned fashion and others looked plain bored as they sprawled in their seats in rather undignified a manner. I thought I recognized the Goan MP Keith Vaz who is somewhat unmistakable with his bald pate, glasses and cheerful smile–but I could be mistaken. He could well have been Swraj Paul for all I knew! Still, it was fascinating for us to watch the UK government at work and to see for ourselves the sort of scenes one has seen endlessly on TV over the years. What amused us was the sale of “House of Lords Apple and Raisin Chutney” in the gift shop together with more appropriate items such as 2009 pocket diaries and Christmas ornaments featuring the portcullis of the building.

Delighted at the unexpected opportunity to take in the experience of touring the Parliament Buildings together, Llew and I continued our walk. We passed by old and practically unknown parts of London tucked away behind the Parliament Buildings such as the home of T.E. Lawrence of Arabia and St. James’ Church on Smith Square before we arrived in Dean’s Yard and the school in which Ben Jonson, Christopher Wren and Sir John Gielgud was once pupils and from then on to the Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms. We’d have liked to have toured those too but time and my feet did not permit us to wander around at leisure. I decided to save that treat for another day.

Instead we crossed Birdcage Walk to enter St. James’ Park which looks totally different in its autumn avatar. Though most of the leaves have fallen already, there was a golden glow reflected in the duck pond where we saw magnificent black swans with vivid red beaks and grey mallards with orange beaks fight for crumbs. Then, we were crossing the Horse Guards Parade to arrive at the Banqueting Hall where we spent the most fascinating hour with audio wands that took us in detail through the history of the building, its spectacular Hall decorated with the ceiling paintings by Peter Paul Reubens that reminded us of England’s troubled Civil War years, the victories of Oliver Cromwell and the tragic execution of Charles I.

Needless to say, we found Reubens’ work compelling and were able to study the panels carefully through mirrored tables on casters that allowed them to be wheeled across the vast room so that the tiniest details could be scrutinized. Depicting the glorious reign of James VI of Scotland who became James I of England (father of Charles I), and the union of two great nations through the crown that sat upon his uneasy head (he was fiercely Catholic in a nation that had become staunchly Protestant), Reubens used classical mythology to glorify the king–the Goddess of Learning Minerva features prominently in the design as do fat and cheeky putti–cheeky because they had bulging cheeks and rotund bottoms! I marveled at the thought that it was within this room that the elaborate masques of Ben Jonson of which I had learned so much during my History of Literature classes, were once performed with even the King and the Queen taking part. The audio guides gave us such a wealth of insight and perspective on the many ways in which this single room affected the annals of history. No wonder Llew and I were absorbed for over an hour as we listened intently and gazed in awe.

The building is no less renowned for the architectural genius of Inigo Jones who was deeply influenced by the grandeur of Italy following a visit to the country and upon returning to England was determined to include, for the first time ever, Doric, Ionic and Corinthian columns in his work–forever leaving his mark on London’s landscape. Prior to his time, only the half-timbered buildings of Elizabethan and Tudor architecture had prevailed. Jones’ desire to introduce the classical lines of Andrea Palladio to England paved the way for the magic of Christopher Wren who was to follow a century later. I was thrilled that we visited this grand mansion–something I have long been meaning to do–and that we indulged in the opportunity to see a part of the city that few tourists visit.

We left feeling deeply moved by the poignant fate of Charles I on a day when another Charles, the man who will be king, celebrated his diamond birthday while waiting to ascend the throne. I have been told that when he does become King, he plans to change his name as the Charleses who preceded him to the throne have met with such morbid fates.

We were out on the street then in a day that seemed to have turned suddenly frigid and as Llew spent the afternoon resting at home, I caught up with telephone calls and made some more bookings for theater tickets in the spring. I am thrilled to have found practically the last available tickets to see Judi Dench in Madame de Sade and Jude Law as Hamlet, both at the Wyndham Theater. While Llew took a nap, I also managed to get tickets for a traditional British Christmas pantomime, Peter Pan, which stars Simon Callow (one of my favorite British actors) as Captain Hook in a version that will be performed in Richmond. My friend Jenny-Lou Sequeira from New Jersey will be here to spend a few days with me just before Christmas with her daughter Kristen and we thought she would especially enjoy this children’s show.

It wasn’t long before Llew and I were on the bus again headed for the Apollo Victoria Theater to see the musical Wicked–finally! Chriselle had seen this show on Broadway years ago when it first opened and had not stopped raving about it. The title refers to The Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz and the story of this play precedes Dorothy’s arrival in Kansas and her meeting with her co-travelers on the yellow brick road in the famous ruby slippers. Those, Wicked inform us, happens to belong to the Wicked Witch’s crippled sister, Nessa.

Chriselle, of course, knows The Wizard of Oz rather well having acted in it as a Munchkin years ago while still in high school. Llew and I enjoyed it but were not unduly impressed. While the sets and costume were spectacular, the music did not appeal to either one of us. Amazingly, the theater was full with not a single seat available and though we were perched high up in the Stalls, the opera glasses for which we paid a very reasonable 50 p allowed us to see the actors up close and personal. Though poor Llew has been afflicted by a horrendous cough that has kept him awake at night and made the viewing of the show rather dismal for him, I did cheer him up at the interval with that most British of theater traditions–a cup of double chocolate ice-cream that comes in a cup with its own spoon cleverly attached to the cap! Far from annoying his throat even more, the ice-cream seemed to soothe it and he was spared a coughing fit for a good half hour after he enjoyed this treat.

We were out into the cool night air soon enough, looking for a bus that would take us back home to Holborn. Passing down Oxford Street, we realized that Yuletide has arrived in London as strings of lights hang in chandelier-fashion above the roofs as the buses pass under them and the department stores seem to be vying with each other in the dazzling spectacle of holiday lights that adorn their premises. It is a great time to be in London and we are soaking it all in.

A Word About Poppies

Nov12

November 11, 2008
Athens-London

At the stupendous, breathtaking Olympic Stadium in Athens, as so often happens on vacation, a young man came up and requested us to take his picture against the five world rings that dominate the spectator stands. He happened to be Bolivian, on holiday in Athens from Paris where he is posted for a year on work–talk about globalization! There I was in Athens, originally from India, now based in the USA, on holiday in Athens from London where I am posted for a year on work. The similarities were striking!

He told us he was out and about on a long weekend in France where the nation is celebrating Armistice Day–November 11, 1918 was when the First World War ended. And I am reminded of the ceremonies in London that I have seen year after year on TV during the BBC World News in commemoration of Remembrance Day (as it is in known in the UK). For years I wondered why the BBC reporters and its guests wore a brilliant red favor in their lapels for a couple of weeks in November. Then, at the Cenotaph, a monument in London that I have yet to seek out and find, Tony Blair would lay a red poppy wreath as war veterans hobbled forward or were wheeled in their chairs to the front, all decked out in their military regalia. We have no such ceremonies in the States to mark this date–probably because we were not involved in the intrigues of World War I.

However, a few years ago, when my mother Edith was visiting the USA, I had taken her to the traditional parade to mark Memorial Day (last weekend in May). There, on the cheering streets of our local home town, Southport, Connecticut, she watched fascinated as people waved the star-spangled banner and floats laden with vivid red poppies passed by to the enthusiastic waves of elderly men and women whose clothing was covered with poppies fashioned out of red construction paper. My mother was enthralled, indeed almost teary-eyed, as she watched. “Look at all those poppies”, she said. “That takes me back to my childhood. When we were children in school, we celebrated the end of the War with these poppies that were sold as favors in Bombay. In fact, we used to make these poppies ourselves, out of red crepe paper! Everyone bought a poppy and wore them in their lapels. I haven’t seen anything like this in so many years”, she marvelled.

So it was in my mother’s honor that I bought a poppy, two weeks ago, while I was with Dorothy Dady in Richmond. It was with pride that I wore it in my lapel for a couple of days before Llew arrived and we left for our Greek Odyssey. Karen, my colleague at NYU, saw me walk into our office with the poppy on my coat pocket and asked me, “What’s with this thing? I see so many people wearing it here.” I explained the significance of the Poppy Appeal about which I had heard on BBC TV only two days previously. Every single BBC reporter and guest had worn the poppy and I was so delighted to be a part of this tradition during my year in London.

So many thoughts coalesced as we crossed Western Europe last night–albeit at thirty thousand feet above sea level–en route to the UK. It was Armistice Day in Europe–Poppy Day in London–and my mother Edith, in whose honor I purchased and wore a poppy, turns 77 tomorrow in Bombay. I cannot wait to call her and tell her about my small tribute to the many nameless brave and courageous men and women whose contribution to the War Effort continues to be recalled here in the UK on Remembrance Day. I was only sorry that I missed the ceremonies in London as I would dearly have loved to be a part of the rituals of the day in person on English soil.

The Riches of Richmond

Oct27

Monday, October 27, 2008
Richmond and London

Exactly a week after I first began foot exercises, I awoke feeling a looseness in the muscles of my calves and hamstrings which, I hope, is a positive sign. My body clock woke me at 6 am, leaving me a whole hour in which to catch up with email and send out Diwali messages to my Hindu friends all over the world for whom the Goddess of Light and Wealth, Laxmi, will be arriving at the start of another New Year.

With breakfast done, I began to get myself organized for my trip to Richmond to meet Dorothy Dady, a second-generation Anglo-Indian photographer in the UK whose interest in her community led her to publish a splendid coffee table edition entitled Scattered Seeds: The Anglo-Indian Diaspora.

It was a long and complicated journey by Tube–first the Central Line to Notting Hill, then a change to the District Line to Earl’s Court from where I got a train going forward to Richmond. Dorothy arrived a few minutes later in her spiffy black car and drove me through the beautiful suburb of Richmond to a local pub called the Lass ‘O Richmond Hill past some of the most expensive real estate in the area including the home of Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall that overlooks a bend in the River Thames. The pub was atmospheric in the extreme with a low beamed ceiling and furniture that was shiny with use. We settled down to chat over coffee and hot chocolate and Dorothy began to speak candidly and thoughtfully about her life as an Anglo-Indian in the UK. I am amazed how much I learn with each interview that I conduct and how many insights I gain by exposing myself to a variety of individual experiences.

Before she dropped me back to the Station, Dorothy was kind enough to drive me around the famous Richmond Park, the largest expanse of park land within London. This was the stomping ground of King Henry VIII and his sporting pals who hunted deer in these environs. So it was with delight that I spied huge herds of deer all over the Park–deer whose pictures I clicked every so often. Autumn leaves were scattered in crinkly dried carpets along the walking paths where people led their dogs on leashes or pedalled on their bikes. It was a lovely morning, brisker than it has been these past weeks, and I was grateful for the cashmere scarf that I pulled on before I left my flat. Once we were outside the park, Dorothy took me past the Thames at Richmond Hill once again so I could take a few more pictures of the gold that has tinged the tree-tops and made the season glow.

Then, I was on the Tube headed back to the city. My legs, though still feeling shaky beneath me, seemed to stand the journey stoically and except for the last ten minutes when my right foot began to ache, I did okay. Back home, I pampered them a little with a warm water soak and an application of the ibuprofen gel before I curled up in bed to catch up with my email. But within a couple of hours, I had to leave again to attend a meeting at NYU’s campus with Fred Schwarzbach, our Dean who is visiting London from New York.

Before I arrived at the meeting, however, I popped into Boots to pick up the Dr. Scholl Gel Arch Supports that I had special-ordered yesterday. I am hoping that they will bring my aching feet much needed relief and will speed up my healing process.

Walking rather slowly from Tottenham Court Road, I arrived at our Bedford Square campus where we had a nice dinner meeting with wine and beer, sandwiches and wraps, at which several of our faculty members had a chance to interact with each other. Beth Haymaker, our Study Abroad Coordinator was also present and when she and Fred heard about my diagnosis, they both told me that they have heard of this condition rather frequently and that it is fully curable with time and patience. Both of them told me that I am looking at approximately two months of discomfort but that it will slowly disappear. I was so heartened by their prognosis that I gladly welcomed Fred’s suggestion that we adjourn after the meeting for a drink. My colleague Karen Karbeiner joined in and the four of us gathered at the Museum Tavern right opposite the British Museum where over a half pint of Guinness and some red wine, we talked shop for a long while before moving on to lighter subjects.

I caught the bus back home and because it was dark and I am still unfamiliar with the bus stops, I got off, by mistake, one stop before I intended! Still, this allowed me to pop into M&S Simply Food for some milk before I arrived home to indulge in another foot soak and ibuprofen massage.

Of course, I could not sleep without giving Llew an update on my condition and it was while I was almost nodding off that we called off and said Goodnight. I realize that with Daylight Savings Time, it is now getting dark by 5 pm and when my wrist watch shows 11. 30pm, it is actually past midnight. Ok, time to call a halt to my musing!