Chriselle’s Last Day in London–Smithfield and the British Museum

May15

Friday, May 15, 2009
London

The day dawned all too quickly when Chriselle had to leave London and return Stateside. Cliches come to mind in such situations: All good things must come to an end; Every parting is such sweet sorrow, It’s not Good Bye but Au Revoir, etc.

For some reason, despite having gone to bed rather late, Chrissie awoke by 6. 30 and could not sleep any more. For another inexplicable reason, she feels horribly lethargic about 11. 3o am when she has this uncontrollable desire to curl up somewhere and go straight to sleep. Jetlag does funny things to people…

My next-door neighbors Tim and Barbara are leaving for Seattle this morning and we wanted to say Goodbye to them. Ringing their door bell produced Tim on his way out somewhere. A little later, Barbara rang our doorbell and we had a chance to wish her Bon Voyage and all the best on their Stateside rambles.

We ate our breakfast quickly–lovely Walnut Bread from Waitrose with Boursin cheese and Sainsbury Three Fruits Marmalade with English Breakfast Tea–I am so going to miss these British treats when I leave. And then we dressed to start our last bout of sightseeing. There was some parts of London I simply wanted Chrissie to see before she left.

The Smithfield Meat Market:
Top of the list were the new digs into which I will be moving on May 31–the penthouse is on Cowcross Street right outside the Farringdon Road Tube Station. We walked along there via Hatton Garden, the London equivalent of Manhattan’s Diamond District with its shop windows that winked and glinted at us as we passed by. Then, a quick right into Greville Street brought us to the building which, I noticed, was recently painted and refurbished. I had no real idea exactly where it was located the last time I saw it, but today, I noticed that it is right off a cute square called St. John’s Square which sits right across from the ornate and very beautiful Victorian Meat Market called Smithfield.

Chriselle who is a vegetarian did not fancy walking through it but she tolerated the short excursion on which we saw white-coated butchers and health inspectors in their white helmets still bustling around though most of the day’s activity had ended. Helmets? Why on earth would you need a helmet when working in a meat market??? At any rate, I have been promising myself an early morning visit to this place to see the butchers at work, the restaurateurs selecting their favored cuts of meat and the restaurants around (that specialize in big meaty breakfasts with large pints of ale–yes, at 8 am!). I must put that on my list of places to go and things to do…

The Church of St. Bartholomew the Great:
Across Smithfield Circle we went through the medieval gabled doorway that leads to the beautiful black and white checkered Church of St. Bartholomew the Great where we entered to find that we were meant to pay a fee for a visit or enter for free if we wished to pray. I have attended Sunday Communion Service at this Norman church and while its age (dating from the 12th century) is deeply impressive, and it does contain a sprinkling of memorials to a few famous Elizabethans, it is the black interior that is most interesting. Centuries of dirt and grime and dust seem to have seeped into the stone pillars that support the ceiling. This is how the interior of St. Paul’s Cathedral might have looked before its 11 million pound refurbishment. It was the best indication we could have had of what time can do to an architectural masterpiece and an ancient Gothic interior. After saying a few prayers, we left.

Checking out London’s Public Toilets:
OK, the next thing wasn’t really on my List of Things To Do, but I have to say that I have been curious and never really had the courage to check one of them out–the Public ‘lavatories’ of London! With Chrissie by my side, I finally plucked up enough courage to venture underground and check out the one in Smithfield Circle. We expected it to be stinky and water-logged and falling apart and Chriselle even turned up her nose at my suggestion that we explore it.

Imagine our shock when we found it spotless, odor-free, spanking new and clean and free to boot! How startled we were! Indeed both of us exclaimed that it was the kind of toilet we could use without hesitation and, next thing you know, we did! There was actually an attendant downstairs who sat in a small cabin watching TV. There were four stalls with brand new toilets, doors with latches and hooks all in order, small sinks (or ‘wash basins’ as the English call them) with running water and toilet paper and paper napkins were in abundant supply. How marvelous! The Victorian exterior with its turquoise painted iron grill work belied the modernity of what lay beneath and we were completely bowled over by something as simple as public toilets! What a great deal we can learn from the English!

A Bus Ride to King’s Cross for a Trip to Hogwarts:
Then, we were sitting in a bus that took us past the great old buildings of one of London’s oldest quarters to arrive at the red brick expanse of King’s Cross. One of my goals was to finish reading all seven Harry Potter novels before I left London and I have to say that this has prevented me from reading anything else since the end of January! I am now in the middle of the fifth one (The Order of the Phoenix) and Chrissie’s visit has halted my progress through its labyrinthine paths. It does not help that the books get more voluminous as the series marches on so that reading one of them is like reading three! Chrissie, on the other hand, read every one of the novels as they were published and saw each of the movies as they were released. Having such an ardent Potter fan on my hands, I simply had to take her to King’s Cross to see St. Pancras Station from where the Hogwart’s Express carries the students from Platform Number 9 3/4 to their School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Chriselle was excited but not overly enthusiastic. I could see that the non-stop sightseeing of the past 5 days had started to take their toll on her–that, I suppose, combined with the late nights and lack of sleep had served to take the wind out of her sails. But when we arrived at the station, she brightened up considerably. I discovered that due to construction activity, Platform Number 9 3/4 has been moved to another location to which Harry Potter fans are being redirected. Yes, we did find it, a few minutes later–the stone wall into which the luggage cart disappears and we did take our share of pictures as we attempted to evaporate into the wall! This is such a fun excursion for kids and we marveled at the sense of indulgence that allows the English to create a spot like this just to appease young readers.

Off to the British Museum:
Then, we were aboard another bus headed to Russell Square to see the Highlights of the British Museum. Though the approach with its Neo-Classical facade is really the best way by which to enter this hallowed institution, we took a side entrance along Montague Place which brought us directly into the Asian Galleries.

Now as anyone who has visited the British Museum knows, you can spend a month of Sundays in the place and not finish seeing everything. My list of Highlights was short and the items that I did want Chriselle to see are the most talked-about ones in the Museum as well as the most unusual. Oh and I made sure she saw the rather lovely Great Hall with its new Millennium structural additions.

Here is what I showed her during our visit:
1. The Easter Island Sculpture
2. The Rosetta Stone
3. The Parthenon Marbles
4. The Caryatid from the Erectheum on the Acropolis
5. The Temple of Nereid
6. The Sculpture Bust of Rameses II that inspired Shelley’s ‘Ozymandias’
7. The Assyrian Temple Carvings and Bas-Reliefs from Nimrud
8. Ginger–the Mummified Woman in the Egyptian Section
9. A Number of Mummies
10. The Portland Vase.

By the time we finished seeing these, it was 11.30 and the drowsiness that Chrissie has been fighting washed over her and she was ready to collapse. It was time to head home, so she could get started on her work with Fusion and start packing for her evening departure.

Getting Ready to Leave London (And the Kindness of Strangers):
With all the things that Chriselle is taking back to the States for me, she had two large suitcases and a carry-on strolley that made our journey to Heathrow pretty excruciating. We hailed a cab to take us as far as Holborn Tube station from where we intended to board the Piccadilly Line to Heathrow.

Everywhere we have traveled in London in the past week, Chriselle and I have been deeply impressed by the general sense of politeness that prevails here (especially among service personnel of any kind) among the general public. Numerous times people have stopped on the street while we were consulting our maps, to find out if we needed help. So I was not surprised when so many of them came forward to give us a hand with our baggage as we struggled to get it on the escalators and into the trains during peak hour rush! Poor Chriselle was battling huge butterflies in her tummy as she tried to think about the ordeal of carrying such heavy baggage back to the States. I owe her big time for the great big favor she has done me in taking so many of my belongings back home for me. At any rate, once we did get our baggage into the train (with a lot of willing help from other passengers), the worst of it was over.

Once at Heathrow, we found carts that allowed us to load our bags on them and push them to the Terminal for her American Airlines flight to New York. No, she was not overweight as we had weighed each bag before we left the house to make sure we stayed within the limits. Once she checked her bags in, she was left with a very light and easily malleable strolley and off she went. I have to say that it was my turn to go all emotional and I was teary as I said my goodbyes to her as we had one of the best weeks of our lives together, enjoying and exploring and sharing London like nobody’s business. Chriselle left with a great love for the city and I was so pleased that I was able to communicate this great passion that I have for London to her as well as get her to share in some of it herself. As we hugged, I quite forgot that in less than three months,I will be back in the States myself. So those cliches came back to mind again–about parting being such sweet sorrow, etc. as I saw her off at the Security gates.

I turned to leave and pulled out my cell phone to call her fiancee Chris who will be picking her up from Kennedy airport. We had a chat and I left and all the way in the Tube getting back home to Holborn, I kept thinking about how much we had covered in such a short space of time and how joyful was Chrissie’s reception of everything I had recommended she see. I know that she learned her way about the city and as she put it, “received a crash course in British history, culture, art and society” in the short time she spent with me. Considering that there were so many glitches and so many things that had to be sorted out in the process of planning this trip, I felt that it had been completely successful and I was very glad about the outcome.

Back home, I felt suddenly and deeply fatigued. I called Llew for our daily late-evening chat, then downloaded my pictures and began to edit them. When sleep washed firmly over me and I could shake it off no longer, I switched off my bedside lamp but not before I made a list of all the things I have to do tomorrow.

As the days slide by and the date of my departure from this flat approaches, I want to make sure that I stay on track with all the things I have to do and not feel overwhelmed at the very last minute.

With Chriselle–A Visit to Parliament and the V&A Museum

May14

Thursday, May 14, 2009
London

Another grey dawn broke over London as Chrissie and I prepared for yet another day of sightseeing. Having broken with my routine and not having found the time to go grocery shopping, I awoke (at 7. 30) to find that I had nothing in the house for breakfast–no cereal, no bread for toast, nothing. I graded a few papers in bed while Chriselle caught a few more zzzzs, then at 8 am, I woke her up and we got on with coffee. Thank goodness for Paul’s Patisserie just down the road that allowed me to introduce Chrissie to my favorite coffee shop and my special treats–an almond croissant and their inimitable hot chocolate.

The House of Commons and the House of Lords:
Having loaded up on the carbs, we were soon boarding the buses that took us to Parliament Square for the first item on our agenda today– a visit to Parliament. The House of Commons opened at 10. 30 am with a short ceremony that included a procession in which the Speaker of the House, Michael Martin, was led into the House by a Sergeant of the Arms who bore an impressive mace in her hand. His coat tails and short train were held by a pair of footmen. As they entered the Peers’ Lobby, a steward shouted, “Hat Off, Strangers!” and the bobbies sprinkled around the room took off their helmets and held them in their hands as the little procession passed us by with a loud and resounding tick-tock tick-tock that the heels of their shoes made as they stomped along the tiled floor! Ah, the pomp and ceremony of British traditions! The visitors lapped it all up especially the loud-voiced American woman who had a gazillion questions to ask.

When all formalities were duly completed, including the taking of our pictures and the frisking of our bodies, we were led into the chamber way up on the top floor into the “Strangers Gallery”. The proceedings had already begun by the time we were permitted to take our seats. The topic of debate today was the issues of cyclists on London’s streets–a matter of deep annoyance to me, most of the time–with apologies to all you cyclists out there. They are allowed to use the bus lanes which means that the buses, that cannot overtake them, have to cool their heels (tyres?)while the slowest cyclists pedal away, clearly out of breath and stamina. The more important issues of the day such as the problem of the Sri Lankan Tamils (who were shouting themselves hoarse on the square outside the ornate building) and of swine flu were scheduled for later in the day–but neither of us had the patience or the intention to sit it out that long. Chriselle, however, enjoyed the proceedings as this was an opportunity, she said, for her to hear educated British accents, more of which she had hoped to hear in London–but was disappointed as the city has become so cosmopolitan that most visitors now hear pigdin English most of the time. I loved the easy repartee that was exchanged by the members on opposite sides of the floor–much of which was delivered with the dry sarcasm for which the English are so famed. When we had listened to the debates for about 15 minutes, we decided to move on–this time to the far more ornate House of Lords.

The approach to the House of Lords is also far fancier than the staircase we had used to get to the House of Commons. This one was richly carpeted in scarlet, the wallpaper in a loud striking print. At the top of the staircase, in another “Strangers Gallery” we were asked to sign an undertaking that we would not disturb the proceedings in any way. The seat of the monarch–a very impressive affair in gilt–was at the far end of the hall. I saw a couple of people on the floor wearing the powdered wigs of the British law courts—they were probably lawyers. Others lounged around the benches looking rather bored. I was not too certain what matter was being discussed as Chriselle decided that she’d had enough and thought it was time to leave.

So off we went down towards Westminster Hall, the only part of the Building that was not destroyed in the fire that ravaged them in the mid-1800s when the present building was constructed in Gothic Revival style. The Peers’ Hall is the most spectacular of the interior rooms with its rich carvings, ornate wall hanging, gigantic paintings, glittering chandelier, etc. Outside, in Westminster Hall with its impressive timbered roof, visitors can pause to examine the markings on the floor which point out the spots in which British royalty were laid in state at the time of their deaths. This room is the most historical with its references to convictions and acquittals (Thomas More convicted, Warren Hastings acquitted).

The Kyoto Garden in Holland Park:
Not too long after our interesting visit to Parliament, we hopped into another bus headed down Kensington High Street as I wanted to show Chriselle one of my favorite parts of London–the Japanese Kyoto Garden in Holland Park. I have discovered that not too many people know about this part of London–what I prefer to think of as my secret garden. Getting off the bus, we walked across Holland Park’s Main Lawn, entered the Brick Orangery where early spring flowers have faded already and summer beds are in the process of being planted and into the Japanese Gardens. We were starving by that point and found the perfect spot to sit and have our picnic lunch–tuna and sweetcorn bagels–on the stone steps that spanned the pool formed by the short waterfall that left a soapy swirl all around us. To our delight, gorgeous peacocks and peahens kept us company, strutting their exotic plumage around for our pleasure. We took many pictures of the fabulous wildlife that included a grey heron and many pigeons.

The Victoria and Albert Museum:
It was not long before we headed towards a bus stop to get to the Victoria and Albert Museum but not before we made a slight detour to Waitrose where I stepped in to buy muesli to send off to Llew with Chriselle who flies to New York tomorrow. I also found some Walnut Bread which I quickly snapped up (as I find it around so rarely). Our bus arrived soon after and we found ourselves seats, changing at Cromwell Road to another bus that took us towards the V&A.

In-between taking in the Highlights, I made a call to bid goodbye and Bon Voyage to my brother Roger who was leaving Bombay for the States with his son on a 2 week holiday. Chriselle and I spoke to the two of them and to my parents who happened to be at Roger’s flat. Then, I took Chriselle on a tour of the most significant pieces in the museum (which has also started to feel like home). These were the items we examined (not necessarily in this order):

1. Dale Chihuly’s Chandelier in the main lobby.
2. Zaba Haidi’s glass sculpture at the main entrance.
3. The Tudor Bed of Ware
4. The Tudor Armor
5. The Rococo Room
6.The Nicholas Hilliard Miniatures
7. The Rafael Rooms with the Sistine Chapel Cartoons
8. The Arbadil Carpet
9. Tipu’s Tiger
10. The Jade Drinking Cup of Shah Jehan
11. The Gold Throne of Maharana Ranjit Singh
12. The ivory furniture in the South Asian Gallery.
13. The Vivienne Westwood Watteau Gown.
14. The Catherine Walker designed Hongkong Gown for Diana
15. The Terracotta Sculpture entitled ‘Innocence’ by Drury
16. Rodin’s ‘John the Baptist Preaching’
17. The Cast Court with Trajan’s Column, Michelangelo’s ‘David’ and ‘Moses’.
18. Raphael’s ‘The School of Athens’
19. The Jewelry Galleries
20. The Jeringham Silver Wine Cooler
21. Constable’s studies for ‘The Haywain’
22. ‘Breathless’ by Cornelia Parker
23. The Poynter, Gamble and Morris Cafe Rooms where we treated ourselves to Afternoon Tea.

We made our way out of the V&A Museum through the central quadrangle with its serene pool and lovely balconies and galleries that emphasized the elegance of Victorian design. Chriselle told me that she loved the museum and could see why some visitors might consider it even better than the National Gallery. In its wealth of decorative arts, it outshines the National which focuses exclusively on paintings and sculpture.

Then, we were on the bus again headed home and catching up with our respective work assignments. Chriselle logged on and did some work, I continued grading my papers after I brewed us a pot of tea which we sat sipping slowly as we completed our work. I also packed up two small cases with my things that I wanted Chriselle to carry back to New York with me and all of this took a lot of time and focus. I now feel confident about moving my own things quite easily to my new digs at Farringdon at the end of the month for I have pruned my possessions down considerably and am left only with the clothing I will need for the next two months. The bulk of my books and files will be mailed back to America in the next couple of days. I have already started to feel curiously light and as soon a Chriselle leaves, I shall turn my attention to packing up my things and putting myself into Moving Mode.

A Night on the Town:
Chriselle had also made plans for us to go out with a few friends of hers and after she and I had both showered, we welcomed Ivana and her friend Rosa to our apartment. After we had taken a few pictures, we set out for the evening, walking first to Great Queen Street where we had a few drinks and appetizers in the Great Queen Street Bar where a friend named Emma extended her warmth and hospitality to us. The basement bar was awfully noisy with a group of four young women who shrieked their way through the evening until we could take it no longer and decided to move on–this time deciding to eat at an Indian restaurant called Masala Zone where we were joined by Chriselle’s friend Rahul. Over traditional Indian chaat and thalis, we chatted some more and after midnight, with the more energetic among us electing to go clubbing, I caught the bus and returned home after what had been a very interesting but rather tiring night.

Supertour at St. Paul’s Cathedral and Exploring Southwark

May13

Wednesday, May 15, 2009
London

London slumbered under leaden skies this morning, though, thankfully, the rain stayed at bay. Wearing warm cardigans to ward off the chill, Chriselle and I set off after a cereal and yogurt breakfast to explore St. Paul’s Cathedral. Though I have been there for several services throughout the past 8 months, I hadn’t taken a formal guided tour and was waiting to share that experience either with Llew or Chriselle. So I was very pleased indeed when my new English friend Bishop Michael Colclough, Canon-Pastor at St. Paul’s and his wife Cynthia, offered me a complimentary guided tour anytime I wanted one. With Chriselle currently visiting me, it seemed like the perfect time to take them up on it and we had one fixed for us for 10. 45 am.

We arrived at the Cathedral to find it swarming with visitors–both inside and out. Tour groups, several of whom comprised students from around London and across the Channel, filled the vast nave of the church. At the Visitor’s Desk, I was ushered to the one run by the Friends of St. Paul’s, an organization of Volunteers (mainly women), who are trained to give guided tours. This Supertour took us to parts of the Cathedral not usually open to the public and we felt privileged indeed to take it at our leisure in so special a fashion.

We were told by our guide, Fiona Walker, that it would last an hour and a half and were ushered right away to a side Chapel–dedicated to one of the many formal ‘Orders’ that comprise aristocratic English life. I do not believe that even a lifetime would be adequate in helping me acquire enough knowledge to decipher the complex system that prevails in military and royal circles int this country. What I did admired in this chapel was the royal seat that only the monarch can occupy, the marvelous wooden carvings by the Tudor carver Grindling Gibbons (whose work I can now easily recognize), the many colorful banners and standards and crests and coat of arms that symbolize one’s family history.

We then moved to the massive oak doors in the very front of the church and learned a bit of history at that point including the part played by Sir Christopher Wren in the design and construction of this, perhaps London’s most distinctive landmark. At the door, we also saw how dark the interior looked until the massive cleaning and renovation was carried out through a vast endowment (11 million pounds) granted to the cathedral by the Fleming family, the same one from which was born the James Bond author Ian!

Next we were led into one of the twin towers that looks down Fleet Street and we were quite taken by the beautiful staircase with its small and very low steps and the ironwork that climbs all the way to the very top. These steeples house the bells that toll each hour and produce the marvelous music on important days. I once heard them chime a heart stirring tune on Palm Sunday–was it last year? The entire city seemed to reverberate to the melody produced by those tolling bells. Yes, they do bring to mind John Donne’s stirring lines:

“No man is an island, entire of itself…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” (Meditation XVII)

Interestingly, there is a rather strange looking sculpture of John Donne in the Cathedral–strange because the poet appears all shrouded in a linen sheet and standing on an urn. It was the only object in the entire Cathedral to escape the Great Fire of London in 1566 because it was hit by a falling object and fell straight down into the crypt from where it was rescued when the embers and ashes were being cleared. And he appears in this shroud because Donne had actually worn the garment in which he wished to be buried while he was still alive–perhaps to get the feeling of how he might appear before his Creator at his Resurrection!

Onward we went deeper into the Cathedral, passing by the grand monument to Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, and there we learned a bit more British history. Chriselle is beginning to “connect the dots” as she puts it, in that she is making connections between the guy who inhabited Apsley House and the hero of the Battle of Waterloo! It wasn’t long before we paused under the central dome to admire the Byzantine style mosaics done by Salviati, an Italian, whose work was inspired by the Italian churches. The dome also contains the magnificent paintings done by James Thornhill–yes, the same artist who painted the famous Painted Hall in Greenwich. Chriselle loved the trompe l’oeil quality of the paintings in the dome which appeared as if the inside was covered with columns and pillars. We saw primary school kids lying flat on the floor right under the dome and staring at it–I bet this is something they will always remember. Years from now, when they bring their own kids to the Cathedral they will say, “You know, when I was a little boy, I came to this church on a school field trip and lay down right there on my back and stared up at the dome!”

More detail and more history followed at the memorial to Lord Nelson, considered by many to be England’s greatest hero. The guide went into detail in talking about his relationship with Lady Emma Hamilton and the product of that alliance, a female child, “named”, she said, then paused for effect, “poor thing, Horatia!” Right opposite the Nelson monument is one to Cornwallis and I paused to tell Chriselle that he was the same one who met with a stunning defeat under General George Washington in York when trying to vanquish the rebel colonists in North America. It was probably as a punishment that he was sent off to India where he masterminded the defeat of Tipu Sultan of Mysore at Seringapatnam and, in doing so, somewhat redeemed his fallen image!

Then, we were at the altar, admiring more Grindling Gibbons’ caved choir stalls (each more breathtaking that the next, in oak and beech) and gazing upon the baldachino or altar canopy which looked to me curiously like the Bernini one in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. We saw also the ‘Cathedra’ or Seat which the Bishop occupies and which turns a church into a cathedral–it must contain a seat for a Bishop which means that a Bishop must be attached to the permanent clergy at the church.

And then we climbed down into the crypt where we saw more memorials, the most striking being the ones to Wren, Wellesley and Nelson in their striking sarcophagi. Nelson’s, in grand black granite, is particularly striking and I was not surprised to learn that it was, in fact, designed and created to hold the mortal remains of Cardinal Wolsley (pronounced ‘Wool-zy’) who was Henry VIII’s right hand man until he fell out of favor with the King for not bringing him the Papal annulment of his marriage to Katherine of Aragon. He was sentenced to death but, mercifully for him, died a natural death before he could be killed. He certainly was not permitted such a grand coffin and, in any case, the possessions of all state prisoners went directly to the Crown–which explains how Henry got his greedy hands on Wolsley’s finest buildings including Hampton Court and Whitehall Palace (of which now only the Banqueting House survives). The sarcophagus lay forgotten somewhere until the body of Nelson arrived from weeks of preservation in brandy–for Nelson really ought to have been given a burial at sea. However, since he was such an extraordinary hero, an exception was made in order to grant him a state burial. His body was preserved in alcohol, brought to London, this sarcophagus was resurrected for the occasion and the nation had a chance to mourn collectively for the death of a great hero who fell on the HMS Victory (now docked in Portsmouth) and whose blood-stained clothes are in the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich.

Climbing up to the Dome of St. Paul’s:
When the tour ended, we were told that we should not leave the cathedral without venturing up into the dome. I was doubtful about my ability to undertake such strenuous physical exercise since I am still recovering from plantar fascitis; but with encouragement from Chriselle, I rose to the challenge and off we went. 117 steps later, we were in the Whispering Gallery looking down on to the black and white checkered floors of the vast cavern below us. It was just stupendous! Of course, Chriselle and I had to try out the whispering capabilities of the acoustics of the space and discovered that we could, in fact, hear each other clearly though we stood on opposite sides of the dome. I was reminded very much of the interior of Brunelleschi’s dome in Florence and the magnificent painting on the inside of the dome by Vasari which one can see at very close quarters if you have the energy and stamina to climb the 500 odd steps to that height.

Then, another 115 steps took up to the Stone Gallery which encircles the outside of the dome and provides views of the rooftops of London. Yes, we saw the river (rather murky on this grey day) and the London Eye and the gilded statue of the Goddess of Justice atop Old Bailey and a host of other landmarks as well as the red brick of the Prudential Assurance Building that is just a block away from my building on High Holborn.

We circumnavigated our way around the dome then made the descent with Chrissie holding on to me all the way down as she felt a little dizzy. Then, because we were right in the area, I suggested a walking tour of the Southwark area instead of trying to get into a bus to Knightsbridge. Chrissie had made drinks and dinner plans with two friends of hers and wanted to get home for a bit of a rest as she has a severe backache when she exerts herself too much physically. I have to be grateful that my own stamina has remained untouched by plantar fascittis and but for the fact that I have to rest more than I used to, I can continue my daily walking routine without interruption.

Exploring Southwark:
So over Wobbly Bridge we went, the breeze feeling very unpleasant around us given the lack of sunshine. Past Shakespeare’s Globe we strolled, arriving under Southwark Bridge where we hastened to the Borough Market as I wanted Chriselle to get a sense of its delicious activity. Alas, it is not open fully on a Wednesday though a few stalls cater to the luncheon needs of the local working populace. We walked quickly on to The George, the city’s only galleried pub, where we took in the quaintness of the Elizabethan space. Then, we returned to Borough Market for a late lunch: a large helping of Thai Green Chicken and Seafood Curry served over steamed rice. It was dished up piping hot and was deliciously spicy and just what the doctor ordered on this rather chilly day.

Inside Southwark Cathedral:
On our way back to the Embankment, we paid a short visit to Southwark Cathedral that dates from 909 AD–in particular to visit the sculpture of Shakespeare and the lovely stained glass window right above it that provides glimpses into his most famous plays. This allowed us to play a little guessing game together before Chriselle made her three wishes–you are permitted three wishes every time you visit a church for the first time (at least that is what my mother told us, many years ago).

We also took in the brightly painted medieval memorial to John Gower and saw the lovely stone carved altar with some gilding on a couple of its statues. This had been under scaffolding when I had visited last March with my friend Amy, so it is great to see the impact that all this refurbishment has on the space. While we were taking pictures at the Shakespeare memorial, a lady came up and told us that there is a charge for taking pictures!!!Can you imagine that? We told her that we were unaware of the policy and she said that we’d have to pay if we took another. Of course, we had finished our visit by that point and were on our way out–but I have to say that I find these rather materialistic policies of these churches not just irritating but rather offensive.

Off to the Tate Modern:
Then, we were walking along the Thames Embankment again, making our way to the Tate Modern where I wanted to show Chrissie two things: the extraordinarily concept that converted the Hydroelectric Power plant into a Modern Art Gallery and the silver installation by Cornelia Parker entitled Thirty Pieces of Silver. She was already far more tired than I was and since modern art is not something that either one of us can truly engage with (though I understand it intellectually), we went directly to the Parker gallery to admire her work. It involved the flattening of about 1000 pieces of silverware under a steam roller. These were then arranged in thirty lots that are suspended from the ceiling on steel wire. The idea is so remarkable that it is worthy of examination for just this reason. Needless to say, Chriselle was quite speechless and didn’t quite know how to react to this…but then that is exactly what Modern Art does to me. I find myself quite lost for words!

We decided to get on the bus and head home as Chriselle badly wanted to rest. I, however, continued on towards Oxford Circus as Marks and Spencer is having a sale on lingerie and I needed to buy my stock before I return to the States. I discovered that my size was not available but if I carried on to their Marble Arch branch, they could take an order from me there. I pressed on, and another bus ride later, I was at the bigger branch placing my order and told to return after May 22 to pick it up. I will be in France at that time but on the day I get back, I can rush off back to Marble Arch to get the discounted price. Along the way, I discovered that Selfridges has been renovated and is now devoid of the scaffolding under which it was shrouded for so many months while it received a deep cleansing in time for its centenary celebrations. There are lights and yellow decorations all over it and I believe the store is worthy of a visit–so I shall try to get there when I find myself under less pressure.

Another bus took me to my office at NYU where I had to do a bit of photocopying before I send off some receipts to New York for reimbursement.

Back home, I found that Chriselle had left the house to meet her friends. This left me time to attend to my email, have my dinner and sit down to write this blog before I got down to grading a few papers and taking a shower before bed.

Museum Hopping, Pub Crawling, Seeing Felicity Kendall at the West End

May12

Tuesday, May 12, 2009
London

Chrissie is slowly getting into the swing of London life–and loving it! I an thrilled at her reactions for I am certain she will now leave part of her heart in this, my beloved city!

I awoke at 7. 30 am–possibly the latest I’ve woken up in a year! Sat grading a few papers while allowing her the luxury of a long lie-in. When she did awake after 9 am, we hurried through breakfast (pain au chocolate with tea for her, cereal with yogurt and then coffee for me) and then we were off.

The Wonders of the NHS:
It was while we were at the bus stop that my cell phone rang. It was my GP calling from his clinic (or ‘surgery” as they say here) on Red Lion Street to find out why I had called earlier that morning. I told him that I needed a prescription filled for my thyroid deficiency and that my American medical insurance company was unable to help as they do not ship medications outside the USA. I wondered if he could write me a prescription which I could get filled locally. I could not believe how willingly and promptly he responded. A few questions later, the job was done. All I had to do was go by the clinic, pick up the prescription, have it filled out at a local pharmacy and then apply to Aetna Global (my American medical insurance company) for a reimbursement. The doctor was courtesy personified and I stood amazed by the ease with which he catered to my request.

Right enough, ten mintues later, after Chriselle and I had walked down to the clinic, I had my prescription in hand. Later in the day, at Boots, the pharmacist took a look at it and informed me that I was entitled to an exemption–this meant that I did not have to pay for it at all! I told her that I needed the medication desperately as my supply would soon run out. She gave me more forms and told me to take them to the clinic, have the doctor sign them and return them to her for a reimbursment! The thing about British bureaucracy is that though it is infuriatingly long-winded, it really does work! Don’t you just love that about the British? For me, the wonders of the NHS will never cease and I truly believe that the American President who manages to create a national health service in the US will truly leave his mark on history. Mr. Obama, are you listening???

Browsing Through Persephone Books:
I just had to take five mintues to introduce Chriselle to one of my favorite places in London–the Persephone Book Shop on Red Lion Street. I told her the story of its founding, a tale she loved. How amazing, she said, that the movie Brief Encounter would inspire a viewer to obtain reprinting rights for the kind of feminine fiction that was produced in that era (the 1920s to 1950s). The paperbacks are beautifully produced in a uniform grey with end papers that are based on contemporary wall paper and fabric designs. And each one comes with a matching bookmark! If you wish to have the book gift wrapped, the wrapping is always a fushia pink tissue paper and the raffia binding includes the book mark which can then double as a gift tag! How very clever! Someday I shall write a blog about my favorite London things and Persephone Books will be right at the top of it!

More Highlights at the National Gallery:
Then, we were hurrying to another bus stop to catch a bus to the National Gallery to finish seeing the remaining Highlights on the curator’s list. I provided background information on such iconic paintings as Constable’s The Haywain (readers of my blog will recall that I had actually visited Suffolk and stood on the very spot on the banks of the River Stour which forms the backdrop of this enchanting painting).

The Haywain at the National Gallery

Placing myself in Constable’s Landscape

She loved Turner too–though she professed less of a fondness for the Impressionists whose hazy depictions of reality she finds rather trying. We recalled and laughed over a line from Seinfeld in which Jerry’s father, on viewing a work by Monet, states that he believes the artist painted without wearing his glasses! Through the Gainsboroughs and the Stubbs and the Gaugins and the Seurats we traveled, taking in the magnificence of the Baroque interiors of the Gallery as well as the superb mosaics on the floor at the grand main entrance with its twin urns filled with arresting spring flowers.

The National Portrait Gallery:
Then, because the National Portrait Gallery was just next door, I suggested we take in the Highlights there as well and we headed straight to the top floor to get a peek at the Tudor portraits many of which were by Hans Holbein. This is certainly my favorite part of this museum for the paintings never fail to bring alive for me the intrigues of the era about which we chatted as we took in the serious faces depicted in oil on canvas. We walked quickly then through the rest of the galleries, pausing occasionally to take a look at more contemporary canvases such as those of Charles and Diana by Bryan Organ soon after their engagement, Judi Dench by Alessandro Raho and Salman Rushdie by the late Bhupen Khakar. No, we did not give the Gallery the length of time it deserves. We merely hurtled through the rooms to get an idea of the variety of personages portrayed within as well as the multi media forms in which they are depicted. It was at this point that I began to feel sorry that my stint in London is drawing to a close (though I still have nearly 3 months to go). I feel a certain comfort in knowing that these institutions are just down the road from where I live. Once I cross the Pond and return home to Connecticut, I know I shall miss dreadfully their nearness, their sheer accessibility.

In and Out of Harrods:
Out on the sidewalk, we sat and people-watched as we ate our cheese and cucumber rolls, then walked quickly to Piccadilly to catch a bus to Knightsbridge as I wanted to return to Harrods to buy some more gifts and claim another free London Pass holders gift–this one based on a purchase that Chriselle would make. She, poor dear, wanted to get home and take a nap before logging on to begin work. I managed to twist her arm to accompany me, she easily agreed and off we went. We were literally in and out of Harrods and back on the bus home in the next hour–though the traffic can get frustrating when you have deadlines to meet and the bus just lumbers sluggishly along!

While Chriselle worked at her laptop communicating with New York and the rest of the world, I sat grading student papers. It was peaceful and quiet in the flat as we each worked separately but still together-an atmosphere that made Chriselle remark: “What a nice life you have created for yourself here in London, Mum. I feel so envious!” She wished she could stay longer and soak in some more of it, but we are doing rather well in terms of how much we have managed to pack into her visit so far.

The Last Cigarette at the West End:
At 6. 15, the two of us closed shop and left for St. Martin’s Lane where we were meant to pick up free tickets that had suddenly landed in our lap to see The Last Cigarette at Trafalgar Studios, a play by Simon Gray that stars Felicity Kendal. Now apart from the fact that American TV viewing audience know her well through the many re-runs on American PBS TV stations (Good Neighbors, known as The Good Life in the UK and, more recently, Rosemary and Thyme), I know Felicity Kendall through my Bombay connections for her late sister Jennifer was married to Bollywood actor Shashi Kapoor and their children, Kunal, Karan and Sanjana are active in the Bombay theater scene through their family-owned Prithvi Theater at Juhu which I used to haunt during my college days in Bombay and in my later life as a Theater Critic for The Free Press Journal. So I was doubly pleased to see her on stage in real life.

The play was deeply absorbing and ingeniously staged. Three individuals (Kendall, Jasper Britton and Nicholas Le Provost) play a single individual, a writer, who is deeply addicted to nicotine and has received the news that he has malignant tumors on his lung. With just 18 months to live, the play is constructed around a monologue in which he talks about the influences that drew him to tobacco even though it killed both his father and his mother. In quite a brilliantly conceived production that demanded the utmost split-second timing in terms of delivery of lines, the three persons on stage blended into one being echoing each other’s movements and mannerisms rather wonderfully–though as Chriselle pointed out (with her astute and trained histrionic eye), that Kendall’s fussing with her hair detracted from the masculinity she was meant to portray and struck a rather odd note.

A Late Night Drink at our ‘Local’:
It was about 9. 30 when we left the theater, took a bus towards Ludgate Circus and decided to go to my ‘local’–Ye Old Mitre Pub at Hatton Garden–which dates from 1532 as I really did want Chriselle to see it. We ordered our drinks (a light beer for her and a Guinness for me) and sat ourselves in what we believed was a quiet corner of the quaint little pub. All went well for the next ten minutes until we were joined by a old man called Charles who was nice to talk to and rather friendly and interesting. It was when his anonymous friend joined us that things got more hairy and I have to say that I did not fancy being forced to make conversation with a stranger who had already had one too many!!! Chriselle later told me that my face spoke volumes of my irritation at his unwelcome company and it was not long before we bid them goodnight and beat a hasty retreat!

Back home, Chriselle wanted me to watch an episode of Arrested Development, an American TV series that she has been watching and having brought the DVD over, we did watch an episode before we both fell asleep about 11. 30 pm.

Harrods, National Gallery Highlights, In Fusion’s London Office

May11

Monday, May 11, 2009
London

Since both Chriselle and I were reeling with exhaustion (she worse than I), she had a long lazy lie-in this morning leaving me to start grading my students’ final papers while sipping my lovely Lavazza coffee. I was glad we had decided to take it easy after three whole days of go, go, go.

Buying Gifts at Harrods:
When we did leave to add a weekly bus pass each to our Oystercards, it was about 10. 15 am. Changing three buses and fighting horrendous traffic all the way to Knightsbridge, we arrived at Harrods which I was keen that Chriselle should see and because I needed to buy some gifts for my French friends in Lyon whom I shall be seeing next week on my trip to France. I was delighted to discover that the free gift available to London Pass holders (with purchase of items 25 pounds and over) was a very pretty bone china mug with the Harrods logo all over it! Chriselle also bought her New York colleagues some Harrods mementos and with our purchases all packed, we set out to discover the store. I led her to the Diana and Dodi Memorial in the basement and then on to the stupendous Food Halls which are among the best in the world (the only other store that comes close is KadeWe in Berlin whose Food Halls on the topmost floor left me salivating helplessly). Chriselle was suitably impressed (just as I thought she would be) and because it was almost 1 pm by then, we used the lovely loos downstairs and hastened out.

The Highlights of the National Gallery:
A short bus ride later, during wich we ate our tuna and sweetcorn bagel sandwiches, we were at Piccadilly and headed on foot towards Trafalgar Square to see the Highlights of the National Gallery. Using Marina Vaizey’s 100 Masterpieces of World Art, I led her through the modern Sainsbury Wing and the older, more ornate part of this marvelous receptacle of art works stopping to comment on Vaizey’s text as she examined the work and de-touring occasionally so I could show her my own favorites such as the gallery containing the work of Venetian Renaissance artist Carlo Crivelli (which left her speechless, just as I thought it would) and The Four Elements by Joaquim Beuckelaer. Despite spending almost two hours in the Gallery, we did not finish examining the 12-odd works that I hoped to introduced her to–but by then she had seen several significant ones and was bowled over by them–such as Jan van Eyck’s Arnolfini Marriage, Hans Holbein’s The Ambassadors, Piero della Francesca’s The Baptism and Bronzino’s Allegory. She also loved the El Greco (Christ Driving the Traders out of the Temple). I was disappointed that owing to renovations Paolo Ucello’s The Battle of San Romano is currently not on view, while most disappointing of all was the removal of my very favorite work in the entire museum–Pieter de Hooch’s Courtyard of a House in Delft (which is probably on loan to another museum at the moment). Tomorrow, we shall return and I shall show her a Constable, a Turner, a Gainsborough and a couple of French Impressionists that are particularly noteworthy. As for me, that National feels like my second home (in the same way that the ‘Met’ in New York has done for years). I walk around its galleries as if they were my own domain and no matter how many times I pass by the treasures hanging upon those walls, they never fail to stir the deepest excitement within me.

Off to Elephant and Castle:
But Chriselle had to return home so that she could pick up her laptop from my flat and head off to Elephant and Castle to the office of Fusion Telecommunications, the London branch of the company for which she works in New York as she needed to get into a conference call with her colleagues. We took a bus there that wound us past Waterloo station. Her colleague Ivana picked us up from the bus stop and led us to the premises.

While they busied themselves at work, I attempted to contact my American medical insurance company (Aetna Global) to find out how best to fill my prescription medication and have it shipped to me here in London. It was several phone calls and a good half hour later that I discovered that drugs cannot be shipped outside the USA. I will now need to call my local London GP, obtain a prescription from him, get it filled in a local London pharmacy, save the receipt, mail it off to Aetna Global and wait to be reimbursed. I am hoping I will have my pills in the next couple of days as I do not have extensive supplies left!

I took the bus back home (making the sudden discovery that the 45 runs all the way from Elephant and Castle to High Holborn over Blackfriars Bridge and the back of St. Paul’s Cathedral) and then set to work. I first made a call to my colleague at NYU-Paris to find out details about my bit of a global assignment on which we are currently working as a team. Then, I sat to fill out an Excel spreadsheet that Llew had prepared and emailed to me that details my travel and commuting expenses for NYU reimbursement. These need to reach my New York office by the end of this month. I cannot believe that I have to attend to this sort of administrative ‘stuff’ whilst I am in the midst of grading term papers! Time flew and when next I glanced at my wristwatch, it was almost 7.30 pm as I should have guessed from the rumble in my tummy. Chriselle had returned home unexpectedly early and continued working in my living room as I worked on my PC in my bedroom–stretched out out on my bed which is my preferred working position!

A Very Productive Evening:
By 8.00pm, I served myself a plate of dinner (penne pasta with grilled vegetables and a salad) as Chriselle had made dinner plans with Ivana who would be arriving to pick her up later on. With my hunger satisfied, I began to pack up my books. Now that teaching is all done for the academic year, I will be shipping my books and files back to the USA in the next couple of days. Chriselle will also be taking a suitcase and a half back home for me and in the midst of everything else with which I am dealing, I’m also making decisions about what to send back! Hopefully, in the next couple of days, I will feel more clear-headed. With four boxes packed and many books and files already boxed, I felt as if I had done a substantial evening’s work.

Ivana arrived soon enough, Chriselle left with her, I did a bit of cleaning and tidying of my flat, then escaped into the bathroom for a lovely invigorating shower, after which I sat to write this blog. I would like to grade some more papers before I fall asleep but that will depend on whether or not I have any energy left after I have done the proof reading of this installment.

London Pass with Chriselle–Day Three

May10

Sunday, May 10, 2009
London

Both Chriselle and I awoke around 7 am today having had difficulty dropping off to sleep. Still rather jetlagged, she was groggy in the morning. Knowing, however, that I did want to catch the 8 am. Communion Service at Westminster Abbey, she was quick on the uptake and within a half hour, we left my flat for the short walk to Fleet Street from where we took Bus 15 to Westminster Abbey while the rest of the city was still sound asleep.

Communion Service at Westminster Abbey:
The service was quick, quiet and rather sparsely attended. What made it special, however, was not just the female celebrant (a rather unusual sight for Chriselle though something I have become accustomed to in England) but the fact that the church was just splendidly decorated with flowers in breathtaking vignettes, each of which depicted a creative theme. We discovered, at the very end, from the female vicar, that it was the result of the work of the members of the National Association of Flower Arrangers who come in once a year to transform the Abbey entirely. At any rate, it made a magnificent backdrop for Chriselle’s first church service in the UK and I was glad she had a chance to see this sight.

A Visit to Westminster Cathedral:
Then, because we were so close to it, I suggested we make a visit to Westminster Cathedral, the Catholic church down the road whose Byzantine style architecture, both inside and out, make it quite stunning indeed. Mass was almost ending when we walked in, which allowed us a few minutes to pray quietly for my mother (since it is Mother’s Day today in the USA). Chriselle did think the church was special and completely different in style and structure from the Gothic Westminster Abbey from which we had just emerged. It is becoming increasingly astounding to her, as we traverse the city, how brilliant is the architecture of each structure we pass and she said to me, just this morning, “Mum, I see what you mean. Every time we round a corner, my eyes feast upon yet another striking building that I feel compelled to explore”. I think she is slowly beginning to understand why I have always nursed such a passion for this city.

A quick visit to Starbucks saw us emerge with mocha lattes that were superb in our empty stomachs until I made an idiot of myself by dropping a large quantity of it all the way down my grey cashmere cardigan while in the bus on the way home. Fortunately, we were only a few meters from home and I was able to rush to my sink and get the worst of it off within minutes.

It was during breakfast that Chriselle wished me a Happy Mother’s Day and presented me with a truly beautiful card whose words were deeply moving primarily because it seemed as if she had written the printed words in them herself. Ever since she has been a young teenager, Chriselle has managed to find me cards that have seemed deeply relevant to that special phase in my life and this year, with me spending so much time away from her in London, the words in the card reflected perfectly well her feelings at being so distant from me. It was a poignant moment indeed and I was close to tears–both at the depth of her feelings and her candid and very lovely expression of them. I thank God for her and bless her and feel profoundly enriched by her presence in my life, especially since I have spent most of the last year on my own. Indeed, if I was delighted to have Llew with me at Easter, I thought it was superbly significant that I had Chriselle with me on Mother’s Day and I felt as if a very special Providence had brought us together at this time.

The Tower of London:
With breakfast done (toasted rolls with Boursin cheese and coffee), we set out on our adventures for the day, heading again to Fleet Street to catch a bus to the Tower of London. To our great good luck, one of those lovely old Routemasters came trundling along, allowing us to climb to the upper deck on those old-fashioned spiral steps (as in the Bombay buses) and take our seats in the front. It was not long before we got off at the Tower, but not before I pointed out to her the remains of the old Roman Wall of what was called Londinium.

The lines at the Tower were daunting but we were relieved to discover that London Pass holders could go directly to the entrance where we joined one of the Beefeaters (Yeoman Guards) on a guided tour of the main attractions of the vast complex that comprises the Tower. As usual, we were informed and entertained by these well-trained folks who took us through some of the most important and grizzly parts of British History as we moved from one courtyard to the next. Highlights, of course, include Traitor’s Gate (through which so many political prisoners accused of treason were led to the Tower), The Tudor courtyard in which the ravens with trimmed wings are plentiful (folklore has it that when the ravens have all flown away, the White Tower will collapse), and the block upon which so many historical figures including Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey were executed.

When I had last visited the Tower, 22 years ago, the original wooden block had remained in position evoking an eerie sense of the gruesome executions that had taken place upon the spot. On this visit, we found a sculpture by Brian Catling with a lovely few lines engraved all around a glass disc that said:

Gentle visitor, pause awhile
Where you stand
Death cut away the light of many days
Here jewelled names were broken
From the vivid thread of life
May they rest in peace while we walk the generations
Around their strife and courage
Under these restless skies.

A rather lovely way, really, of remembering those personnages from history who, in most cases, met an unjust death.

It was time then, for us to join the eager hordes queuing up at the entrance to the Tower that contains the Crown Jewels. Walking through the many rooms that took us deep into the chamber with its steel reinforced doors where the most precious Jewels are kept, we saw three short films, all of which depicted the occasions upon which the jewelled signs and symbols of the British monarchy were used. Everyone gasps, of course, when they see the Cullinan Diamond in the sceptre and the Koh-i-noor diamond in the crown of the late Queen Mother. But there are emeralds and rubies and sapphires the size of small eggs that are just as stunning and in beholding the magnificent workmanship of these items, we felt as if we had received our money’s worth.

A visit to the Princes Tower showed us more crowns and scepters and maces and trumpets and all such other items associated with the coronation of England’s monarchs. Chriselle,whose knowledge of British history, is rather hazy, is slowly beginning to put them in chronological order as she discovers bits and pieces of their colorful lives. It is a great deal to drink in at one go but she is slowly processing it all and asking me a lot of very relevant questions.

The last thing we needed to see at the Tower was the White Tower itself, one of the oldest parts of the building which is currently playing host to a special exhibit on Henry VIII rather appropriately entitled Dressed to Kill. We saw a large amount of contemporary armor but I was disappointed as I had hoped to see some of his courtly robes–none of which have survived, I suppose. Still, over all, we saw a variety of items in the Tower that could easily have allowed us to spend the entire day there if we had done the tours at leisure.

The Tower Bridge and Exhibition:
A call home to my mother in Bombay to wish her for Mother’s Day punctuated our day after which we sat on a bench eating our lunch time sandwiches as we were starving again. Then, having rested our rather aching feet, we set out in search of the City Cruises Pier to catch the next ferry to Greenwich. When we discovered that the next one was due to leave 45 minutes later, it was Chriselle who suggested we use the time to walk over Tower Bridge.

The London Pass allowed us to enter the Tower Bridge Exhibition and we then treated ourselves to the next half hour learning about the ingenious engineering that went into its design for the Bridge needed to satisfy the sense of aesthetics of the Victorian cohort that was involved in granting the commission for its construction as well as the ability to sustain human and vehicular traffic while opening up to allow for the passage of tall ships. A tall order indeed!

When construction began, teams of divers dug into the soft clay that is the base of the River Thames and the construction of the two posts began. Two short films that we saw before and after crossing the east and west walkways, 142 feet over the river, introduced us to the intricacy of design and scientific precision that allowed for its construction as well as the creation of the mechanism of the drawbridge. From the walkways, we had views of the city stretching all the way down the curving Thames to the glass and concrete skyscrapers of Canary Wharf and the O2 stadium at Greenwich as well a the domes of Sir Christopher Wren’s National Maritime College. It was truly a marvelous tour and we are so glad we found the time to take it. The tour also included a visit to the Engine Room but we were worn out and needed to make our way to the boat in order not to miss the next sailing.

Thames Cruise to Greenwich:
We did not have the best guide on our way to Greenwich. I have taken this cruise before (in September with my students) when I had found the commentary quite compelling. Still, Chriselle who listened carefully, laughed a great deal at his jokes and found him amusing. What made the cruise special for me was the incredible weather–indeed we could not have asked for a better day to mess around on a river! The last time I had taken this cruise it was cold and rainy and miserable and today, it was spectacular. We bought ourselves a cold beer on board and split the bottle as we enjoyed the sail and when the domes of Greenwich came into view, we made our way down to the pier to be able to get off as quickly as possible.

Our first stop was the National Maritime College which allowed Chriselle to take in the grandeur of Wren’s architecture and notice his indebtedness to the classical structures of Greece and Rome. In this space, I made sure she saw The superb Painted Hall by Thornhill where the frescoed ceiling and walls are supposed to be second only to the work of Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel. Right opposite is the Chapel where the plasterwork on the ceiling is so stupendous that it is reminiscent of the Jasperware produced by Josiah Wedgwood in his factories at Stoke-on-Trent. Chriselle loved every bit of these buildings and took a number of pictures. By this point, however, she was feeling rather beat having been on the go for three whole days and not quite having recovered from jetlag.

The Royal Observatory and the Prime Meridian:
Still, she decided that we should bravely press on and pass the Queen’s Palace in front of the Park where the Royal Observatory is located. We were struck by the tourist crowds everywhere though a lot seemed like local folks enjoying a Sunday in the Park with their Kids! At the Royal Observatory, we made a bee-line for the Prime Meridian and had to take some funky pictures which standing astride it with our feet in alternate hemispheres. We decided to skip a look at the vast variety of clocks that were on display here and take a breather instead in the park were we spent a long while resting and relaxing and massaging our aching muscles while watching picnicers enjoying their strawberries and cream, their pasta salads and chilled beer.

When we felt ready for the next bout of walking, we set out again–this time we nipped into the National Maritime Museum as I did want Chriselle to have a look at the uniform of Lord Nelson which became bloodstained at the Battle of Trafalgar where he was wounded and passed away. Having seen this exhibit, as well as Lord Frederic’s gilded barge, we made our way outside and basked again in the golden sunrays.

At the pier, Chriselle had a horrid experience having stopped to sample some spreads and condiments from a market stall. She picked up what she thought was a sun-dried tomato only to discover that it was a pickled jalapeno pepper that had her hyperventilating though she spat it out almost as soon as she popped it into her mouth. The fortunate part was she had asked me only a second before if I wanted to share it with her and I had declined! What a good job I did! The next thing I know I was plying her with chocolate that I found in my bag and ten agonizing minutes later, she returned to normal!

We took the stairs then that led us to the Greenwich Tunnel, passageway that runs under the River Thames, another remarkable feat of late Victorian engineering (built in 1902) that I wanted her to experience. Over on the other side, after a short ten minute walk, we took the elevator up hoping to catch the Docklands Light Railway to Green Park where we had Afternoon Tea reservations at The Wolsley Hotel–we thought it significant that since it was Mother’s Day, we could have Tea together in this grand place.

Only by this stage, Chriselle felt seriously out-of-sorts and we decided we would perhaps abandon our plans. What finally nixed it for us was the dislocation of the rail network that closed the DLR down, put us on the Tube (Jubilee Line) at Canary Wharf where we discovered that we could only go as far as London Bridge and, what was worse, the Piccadilly Line wasn’t running either. That was it!

Dinner with Tim and Barbara:
We got off at King’s Cross and took Bus 45 and got back home where Chriselle crawled straight into bed and went off to sleep. Two hours later, after I had dealt with my email and tried to reschedule my visit to Paris, we dressed and went over next door to my neighbors’ flat. Chriselle was keen to meet Tim and Barbara about whom she has heard so much–both from me and Llew! In keeping with his reputation for hospitality and generosity, Tim opened a bottle of Harrod’s bubbly and passed around grilled and marinaded artichoke hearts–delicious! It wasn’t long before we were invited to stay for dinner–pepperoni pizza and steamed asparagus, the latter impeccably seasoned with lemon juice and sprinkled with grated parmesan. It went down a treat. With chocolate cheesecake, Tim’s own homemade strawberry sorbet and fresh strawberries, we had a truly fine meal and the company of two of the most interesting friends I have made in London. As always, Tim and Barbara entertained us with their jokes and stories and it was with difficulty that we tore ourselves away from their flat and called an end to the evening.

We promise ourselves a less strenuous day tomorrow but are pleased that we made the best possible use of our London Passes–something that we would recommend without hesitation to anyone planning a visit to London for the first time.

London Pass with Chriselle–Day Two

May9

Saturday, May 9, 2009
London

The weekend dawned in Holborn with its customary silence as the legal world ground to a two-day halt. Chriselle and I showered, ate our breakfast and set out as quickly as we could taking buses to Kensington and passing through most of the important sites along the West End that I pointed out to her.

The Albert Memorial and the Royal Albert Hall:
Our first stop was the Royal Albert Hall where, with our London Pass, we were entitled to a one-hour long tour of this famous auditorium upon whose stage everyone who is anyone has performed. Discovering that it would not start for another half hour, we walked outside, crossed the main road and arrived at the ornate and very beautiful Albert Memorial with its gilded sculpture of Prince Albert surrounded by more sculptures representing four of the world’s continents (Asia, Africa, America and Europe) and a stunning frieze upon which was depicted a multitude of personages from the worlds of science and industry, arts and technology. It was indeed a monument worthy of a king and spoke volumes of the stupendous love and devotion that Victoria had for her beloved Albert. Chriselle was as deeply moved by the depiction of an elephant (for Asia), a camel (for Africa), a bison (for America) and a bull (for Europe) as I was and was deeply struck by the thought that went into the creation of this marvelous piece of work.

Across the street, the round contours of the Royal Albert Hall were equally striking especially as it is set in the midst of Albert Court which is surrounded by the Royal College of Organists, the Royal College of Music, etc. each building of which is more beautiful than the other. I am thrilled, so thrilled, to find that Chriselle is reacting to London’s architectural grandeur with the same delight with which I have reacted for years–how fabulous it feels to be able to share this sense of wonder with her. She wanted to take pictures of so many of these courtyards and we requested ever so many passers-by to oblige us.

As for the tour, it was worth every second of our time as the guide took us to so many hidden corners of the Hall. It was, in many ways, a behind-the-scenes look at the mechanics of putting so many grand productions on stage from musical entertainment, to interviews, to the BBC Proms, etc. It was not long before we were led into the auditorium itself where the crew were getting set for a performance of Verdi’s Requiem later that evening. Our reaction on first setting eyes on the interior was one of the utmost wonder for the Hall is so large, so richly furnished and so beautifully decorated that we were lost for words and could only gasp. Seated right next to the Queen’s Box, indicated by the presence of a crown right above it, we could only imagine how it must feel to actually be a spectator in this amphitheater-like enclosure.

From here, the tour took us to the Private Rooms where the monarch meets the performers and is introduced to them. This allowed us to sit on some of the seats used by these ultra famous personalities. The tour ended with a short film which summed up a great deal of what we had seen and it was with a sense of deep satisfaction that we left the Hall delighted to note that we had just seen one of the greatest spaces of public performance in the world.

On the Bus to Kensington Palace:
A quick bus ride later, we were striding through Kensington Gardens where late spring flowers were valiantly hanging on to their ribbons of color. The gorgeous morning had lured a number of strollers and joggers to the park while other lazed or basked in the warm sunshine. Arriving at Kensington Palace was a first time for me and I was inevitably reminded of the sea of flowers we saw outside its gates, ten years ago, when Princess Diana who occupied and lived in the palace after her divorce, passed away.

The ground floor was devoted to an exhibition of clothing in the Edwardian era and took us through the etiquette involved in the Debutante Ceremonies that were part of the formalities of upper crust life in that era. A room was devoted to some of the formal dresses worn by Diana during her lifetime including the famous black velvet number in which she had bogeyed with John Travolta at a formal White House dinner in the Reagan era.

Once we left the ground floor behind, however, and climbed the grand staircase that led to the upper storey, the place truly began to look like a Palace with each room more glorious than the next. We learned a lot about the various members of the royal family through the centuries that called this Palace home. For me, the most moving room was the bedroom in which Queen Victoria was awoken at the age of 18 and delivered the news that she had just become the new Queen of England! She had loved Kensington and it was with a very heavy heart that she left it for the last time to take up her new residence at Buckingham Palace as Queen. By now, you have probably guessed that Queen Victoria has been my favorite British monarch for ages–actually ever since I red Antonia Fraser’s biography of her more than fifteen years ago! To walk through the rooms in which she was born and lived as a teenager was deeply poignant and I was moved almost to tears. Also pretty wonderful to behold was the wood carving of Grindling Gibbons whose work I first grew to love at Hampton Court Palace a few years ago. Gibbons specialized in the depiction of fruits and flowers. I was struck, therefore, by his depiction of human faces on a skein that adorned a mantle in one of the rooms.

Kensington Palace has lovely gardens surrounding it as well as a lake with a wide promenade–reminiscent of the landscapes of Capability Brown. By the time we had toured the Palace, we were ready for a cuppa and thought that the Orangery would make the ideal place to take a break. Seated in the pretty interior with its marble sculpture and fresh flower arrangements, we sipped our Darjeeling with lemon and then made our way towards the Tube station at Kensington High Street in order to get to Warwick Avenue.

A Canal Cruise to London Zoo:
It was our intention to board Jason’s Canal Cruises to London Zoo–indeed it would have been a treat as the cruise takes one at a very leisurely pace along Regent’s Canal in a 100 year old narrow long boat that is painted in vivid red or stark black. When we arrived at the pier, however, we discovered that the last cruise for the day had left fifteen minutes earlier. Now had we not stopped to sip that tea, we might have made the cruise–but then I guess you can’t do everything!

At the Zoo:
Deciding to take the bus instead, we made our way to London Zoo–another excursion for me after 22 years. I do remember when I had last been there, the pandas were the big attraction and indeed I had seen a pair of them. Now the pandas are no longer around, but Chriselle and I had such a blast crossing the Regent’s Canal on one of the bridges and making our way into the zoo in the midst of a vast number of kids who were caterwauling all around us with their harassed parents scrambling all around them.

We spent the next two hours having such a wild time–there was the most amusing gorilla in the world, a true show-off who put on such a display of antics as to have us all in splits. We saw lions and tigers, penguins and pigs, birds of such colorful plumage and so many other creatures as to leave us enthralled. We truly wished we could have spent a much longer time in the zoo but I had to run an errand–I had some graded papers to deliver to NYU and we wanted to grab some dinner before we hit the Globe Theater for our performance later than night of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

So off we went, on the bus to Baker Street and from there, we took yet another bus to Tottenham Court Road to arrive at Bedford Square where Chriselle was able to see our beautiful campus building as well as peek into my basement office that I have so grown to enjoy. We did not linger long, however, as we did want to get some dinner and since the South Indian restaurant called Malabar Junction was close by, we went there and requested the wait staff to serve us as soon as possible. With a delicious paper dosa, appam and vegetable coconut curry, we had ourselves a very good meal indeed and were able to head off to the theater for the next part of our evening.

Romeo and Juliet at the Globe Theater:
Having had the experience of sitting in the galleries last September when I had watched A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I decided that this time we would be groundlings. Tickets purchased for five pounds a piece took us to the groundlings area where we spent the next hour having a truly grand time. This play was especially significant for Chriselle as she had played the role of the Nurse many years ago while in high school and knew every line by rote. Though we were both beat and had spent most of the day on our feet, we found the energy to stand for the next two hours and watch a wonderful production of Romeo and Juliet. It was only at the intermission that Chriselle told me how badly her back was aching and that she had really had enough for the day. We left, fifteen minutes later, after taking a rest during the intermission and made our way across ‘Wobbly’ Bridge to St. Paul’s Cathedral from where we took the bus back home. All along the way, we talked about the play and discussed the performances of the various characters.

Despite the fact that our day was long, neither one of us was able to get to sleep right away and after some more chatting, we finally called it a day.

London Pass with Chriselle–Day One

May8

Friday, May 8, 2009
London

Chriselle’s main concern was getting her laptop up and running to enable her to work for a few hours in the evenings. When I was unable to connect her to my wireless network, I asked Tim next door to help. He kindly came in at about 9am and got her sorted and with that, the great weight lifted off her mind and she was able to turn her attention to breakfast (toast with marmalade and tea–as she has a marked fondness for tea) before she showered and we were able to get out of my flat by 9.45 to begin our London sightseeing.

The day dawned gray and drizzly. Disappointed, we dressed appropriately and, armed with our brollies, prepared for a wet and breezy day. Good job our first stop was The Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace where I was keen to see those special treasures that her Majesty holds for the nation in her sanctum sanctorum. Chriselle had decided to gamely so along with my plans for the next 3 days as she has the next week to explore London according to her special likes.

The Queen’s Gallery:
Since we both have the 3-day London Pass and 3-day Travelcards, I have chosen sites that I have not yet paid to see–in a attempt to make fullest use of the passes. The Queen’s Gallery maintains a timed entry (allowing just a few visitors to peruse the collection at any given time). We were lucky to be admitted in immediately (at this time of year, that is not unusual, I believe) but were disappointed to hear that the Royal Mews is closed on Fridays. We might not be able to see the collection of carriages that are part of the pomp and pageantry of British royal life.

After going through security (every art gallery and basilica is beginning to feel like an airport these days), we passed through a massive set of doors and faced a really beautiful stairway whose balustrade was adorned with skillfully gilded metal tassels. Once we arrived at the landings, we were given audio guides and ushered through another set of doors that led us to the two large rooms that comprise the Gallery. Paintings and objects d’art (mainly in the form of ornate cabinets) change periodically as do the special exhibits. Like the Queen, who is a famed collector, I have a great fondness for painted porcelain, especially the kind made in the Sevres factory outside Paris in France. So I was disappointed to discover that the gallery is in a state of transition at the moment for a special exhibit on these works which will start later this month.

However, the works we did see in two rooms were truly impressive and made the visit worthwhile. Of special note, were a number of scenes of Venice by Canaletto, four gigantic works by Peter Paul Reubens (mainly collected by Charles I and later Queen Victoria), a few portraits of Charles I and his wife Henrietta Maria painted by his court painter Anthony Van Dyke, a really beautiful portrait of Queen Victoria as a little girl by her drawing tutor (whose name I wish I could remember) and–this was the highlight of the visit for us–a number of jewel-studded items gifted to the royal family and The East India Company by India’s erstwhile Maharajas during the days of the Raj. I was pleased to note that most of them were gifts and not ‘plunder’ to which the British Raj fancied itself entitled. Even so, the size of the emeralds in a pearl-studded belt had to be seen to to be believed and the pair of diamond drop ear-rings and matching brooch that were gifted to the late Queen Mother were another stunning aspect of the items on display.

The Changing of the Guard:
Since the collection was rather small (even though very significant), we were still able to catch part of the ceremony of the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace where, we found that, mercifully, it had stopped raining and we were actually able to see some activity in the the large court yard. Indeed, by the time we crossed the street in front of the sculpture of Queen Victoria, the sun made an appearance and we were able to get pictures with blue skies in them! It made Chriselle remark that if you don’t like the weather in London, you can wait for five minutes–it really was a quick-change artist!

Down The Mall we walked, still feeling jaunty and full of energy, past the back of St. James’ Palace. Needless to say, I kept up a running commentary as I pointed out the sights to her, amazed myself at how much I now know about London. Crossing The Mall, we entered St. James’ Park (at which point we received a call from Llew on my cell phone–which, miraculously, I heard–just getting ready to start work in the States) and since, for some inexplicable reason, both of us were already starving, we found a bench overlooking the duck pond (where we were instructed not to feed the “wild fowl”–a term that would never have been used in the States), we ate the sandwiches I had prepared at home before setting out.

I have to be rather creative with meals, as Chriselle is a vegetarian. I, therefore, threw in everything I could find in my fridge–which this morning comprised, multi grain bread with mayonnaise, parmesan cheese and a pear (that I sliced and drizzled over with balsamic vinegar). Even I was surprised what a delicious sandwich this made. With our feet well rested, we started off again.

The Horse Guards and the Banqueting House:
Our next destination was the Banqueting House (as I was keen for Chriselle to see Peter Paul Reubens’ ceiling as commissioned by Charles I in memory of his father James I who is the main character in the centerpiece medallion). This meant that she had the opportunity to pass by the Horse Guards and click pictures with them–a matter that called to mind much earlier visits to the city when she was just nine-years old, in the company of my brother Roger.

The short film we saw on the ground floor of the Banqueting House introduced her to the history of the place. I, of course, had just seen the film two weeks ago, when my friend Loreen was visiting from Connecticut. And I realize again how little this building is visited and how important it is–architecturally (it is the work of Inigo Jones who revolutionalized English architecture after his return from Italy where he was influenced by Andrea Palladio), historically (it was from this building that Charles I was led to his execution) and artistically (it is the only building in the world that has Reubens’ ceiling paintings in situ. Chriselle gasped when she saw the ceiling for the first time after we had climbed to the first floor and was entirely engrossed in the commentary that we heard on audio wands. It was interesting to note the items that she wanted to photograph and, in a way, it was fun to see these places through her fresh and fascinated eyes.
The Churchill Museum, the Cabinet War Rooms and the England at War Exhibition:
Our next stop was the St. James’ Park end of Whitehall where I had been waiting for Chriselle’s arrival to visit the underground Cabinet War Rooms–this, I believed, would be the highlight of our day. And I was not disappointed. It was my student Kristen who, last semester, had told me how incredibly fascinating it had been to her and how I must not miss this attraction. Having never seen these rooms before, I did not intend to leave London without visiting them. I was glad that Chriselle was as enthusiastic as I was and, before long, we found ourselves underground in the world of the 1940’s that somehow brought to my mind the setting and ethos of the British detective series Foyle’s War.

The first room that greets visitors is the one used throughout the war by the Cabinet War Committee among whom the names of Churchill and Clement Atlee were the only ones familiar to me (Atlee succeeded Churchill as Prime Minister after the War and presided over the transfer of power at the time of the Independence of India). I had goosebumps while looking at the wooden swivel chair that Churchill used in the middle of this gathering. Everything has been left exactly as it was on the last day the room was used and it was strangely evocative of the inter-continental intrigues of that epoch.

The rest of the warren of underground rooms showed us the quarters of the many chiefs of staff and their administrative assistants–all of whom had cramped rooms, furnished in a utilitarian fashion with banker’s lamps in each room, maps on the wall–many still tracing the progress of important mid-century military campaigns–and even the room used by Mrs. Churchill–which, in a single seater sofa, was the only piece of furniture with a floral print! It stood out oddly in that stark environment. Also interesting was a copy of Picture Post of that era with a rather rare feature inside depicting the First Lady in her domestic milieu inside 10 Downing Street–a sort of early version of People or Hello magazine!

It was interesting to see Churchill’s engagement book that contained signatures of George VI and the current Queen entered in 1942 (long before she became Queen) and it occurred to me afresh (a fact that the film The Queen had brought to my attention) how many Prime Ministers have served during her reign! What a history of the century she encompasses within her own 80 years!

What was also interesting to me (if somewhat annoying) is the knowledge that while the rest of the country (indeed the rest of Europe) staggered under severe rationing laws, “making do” for years on end, Churchill wined and dined like a king, his daily menus comprising several courses including Beef Wellington and gallons of rich port wine and expensive bubbly! Ah, the privileges of the powerful.

Another really amazing aspect of this exhibit is a trans-Atlantic telephonic conversation that we could listen in to between President Truman of the US and Churchill discussing the progress of Himmler across Europe and the strategy designed to stop him. The accents, the diction, the style of expression, the odd formality that existed between these two so-called ‘close friends’ was antiquated and, therefore, deeply amusing, but it gave me goose flesh again to actually hear their voices and listen carefully to the stress and concern contained within them. (“No,no,no,no,no,no,no, we can’t do that. Especially when it is Himmler we’re talking about”). This is easily a place in which one could spend a whole day and I am not surprised that Kristen found it so compelling. I am so glad I finally saw the circumstances in which the fate of Europe and the world was decided and I am so gratified that these rooms have been preserved in this fantastic manner (thanks largely to the Imperial War Museum) as a gift to future generations.

Jewel Tower:
Since we were doing really well for time and the weather had suddenly turned so appealing, we decided to walk towards Parliament Square and see Jewel Tower which is run by the English Heritage and is open to London Pass holders. Llew and I had taken a self-guided walking tour entitled “Royal London” that had once guided us past this rather squat tower opposite the Houses of Parliament–but since we hadn’t climbed it then, it made sense for us to ‘cover’ it on this outing.

Passing by the exterior of the Houses of Parliament, I pointed out to Chriselle the Visitor Entrance to the sessions in both Houses and suggested that she return next week to sit in on one of them. The friendly copper outside informed us that the next sittings of both Houses will be on Monday and Tuesday from 2. 30 till 10 pm and Chriselle decided to return on Tuesday. I was also able to point out to her the “Sovereign’s Entrance” at the side which rather tickled me because while the rest of the world has the right to walk into Parliament and overhear the debates, the reigning monarch does not–he/she must knock on the ceremonial doors and request permission to enter–a custom that harks back to the days of the Magna Carta when the sovereign interfered too much in the running of Parliament–I know that I am putting this rather simplistically and there is a more complicated piece of history here that is worthy of recounting and I must look it up online.

The Jewel Tower itself is named for the fact that the Tower which was constructed in the reign of Edward III (mid 1200s) housed the royal wardrobe, part of which included the jewel- encrusted crown. 44 steps take visitors to the top along a winding spiral stone stairway that was reminiscent to me of Delhi’s Qutub Minar (at a time when visitors could climb all the way to the top, as a little girl, I had been way up there) and to Chriselle of the fairy tales she had read as a child–chiefly Rapunzel! The small exhibit upstairs was not noteworthy and after we took in the views of busy Parliament Square below us, we descended.

The Cavalry Guards Museum:
Chriselle did not need to get home until 5 pm when she needed to log on and connect with her New York team to get some work done. This, we realized, left us enough time to see the Cavalry Guards Museum which is also included in the London Pass and which faces the Horse Guards Parade. This rather small exhibit showed us the livery used by man and horse and the role played by these ceremonial guards with whom the public has posed for decades. It is the plumes, the swords, indeed the regalia, that give British royalty so much of an aura. The stables in which the horses are well looked after (we actually saw two rather quiet ones taking their rest) are also on exhibit and we could walk past the stalls and take all these sights in. Because these spaces are rather compact, however, they did not take too long to peruse and we were out rather sooner than we expected.

By Tube to Apsley House:
With time still on our side (it was only a little past 3.00 pm), we decided to take the Tube to Hyde Park Corner to see Apsley House (which I had toured a few years ago but which I was keen for Chriselle to see). This stately mansion with its beige facade dominates the circle around Wellington’s Arch and has always been one of my favorite London manors. It was gifted by a grateful nation to Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington (whose much less-liked and less-popular brother Richard had been the Governor-General of India) upon his victory at the Battle of Waterloo that ended the dynamic campaigns of France’s Napoleon across Europe. Since it was situated at the very point of entry into the city, it’s address was simply No 1 London–an address it still retains!

Inside, the visitor is given an audio guide which allowed us to negotiate our way through rooms that were crammed with paintings and sculpture beginning with the towering one of Napoleon by Antonio Canova in the landing on the ground floor that leads up to the marvelous Robert Adams’ designed stairway. The floor had to be reinforced with a supportive pillar beneath it to take the massive weight of this marble sculpture that presents a young and very athletic Napoleon in Roman guise complete with spear in his hand and sandals on his feet. It is an immensely striking sculpture and one whose image has stayed with me from my last visit to this room.

Wellesley was a master general (some would say the best England has ever had) with a gifted aesthetic side to his personality and he amassed a multitude of paintings, many so significant that the Long Gallery contains works by Old Masters that would make the National Gallery envious! There were Carravaggios and Canalettos from Italy, Jose Riberas, Velasquezes and Murillos from Spain, Jan Steens, Peter de Hoochs and Breugels the Elder from among the Flemish cohort and indeed a number of English artists including Van Dyke –all of which would take another age to see in detail. For me, the highlight of this mansion is the sterling silver centerpiece on the Dining Table that runs along its entire length–a gift from Portugal to Wellesley as the defeat of Napoleon had been a joint venture between England, Spain and Portugal. We enjoyed our visit here very much indeed and though Chriselle was concerned about the time and ensured we left there by 4. 30, she had a very pleasant visit indeed.

Back on the Tube, I showed her how to use it (so that she can find her way around the city on her own once I leave for Paris and find her way back to my building on the Central Line). Though I was quite wiped out by the time I reached home, she logged on to her computer, while I set off for Bedford Square to pick up the sheaf of papers that my students have left for me to grade as their semester winds down and final exams begin next week. It is a profoundly busy and stressful time for them and as my grading work begins, I am still trying to fit in as much time with Chriselle as possible.

Duet for One at the West End:
Back from campus, I managed a very short nap as both of us would be going out again for the evening. I had booked us tickets to see Juliet Stevenson and Henry Goodman in Tom Kempinski’s Duet for One at the Vaudeville Theater and when we got there by Tube at 7. 30, we were just in time for a performance that swept us off our feet with its histrionic virtuosity, masterful direction and excellent script.

Indeed it was a marvelous night at the theater. Though Stevenson’s role as Keira Knightley’s mother in Bend It like Beckham had first brought her to our attention, it was in this play where she played a violinist afflicted by multiple sclerosis and battling the ghosts of her past, that we realized how gifted an actor she is and how wide is her range. Indeed, she was superbly supported by Goodman who, in a much quieter portrayal as her therapist, also had his occasional outbursts that brought vitality to his role. Indeed, we could not have had a more memorable night in a London theater.

A Night Out on the Town for Chriselle:
Throughout the evening, Chriselle had been on my cell phone with her friend Rahul whom she had once known as a child in Bombay. He moved to London to work for a hedge fund and she was renewing contact with him after years. He invited her to spend the evening out with his friends and taking the bus to St. Paul’s from The Strand, I dropped Chriselle into his hands and took the bus back home as I was seriously pooped and couldn’t wait to hit my bed.

She woke me up at 3 am to tell me that despite the fact that I had given her a key, the magnetic tag would not open the door of our building downstairs. I dressed quickly and went down to open the door for her and at 3. 15, we were both back in bed again at the end of what had been an astonishing day for her in every possible respect.

Welcome Chriselle! And Jubilee Walk–Part 5

May7

Thursday, May 7, 2009
London

After a whole week of glorious sunshine, it felt kind of odd to wake to a grey day–thankfully, not a rainy one. Most of my morning was spent cleaning my flat–and a thorough job I did of it too, even if I say so myself. Between scrubbing my sink and my granite counter tops, washing the bathroom and vacuuming the whole house, I had the whole place shipshape in a couple of days and sat back to enjoy the glow!

Email and the editing of another chapter for the anthology on Anglo-Indian Women took up the rest of the morning. I stopped for lunch briefly, then returned to finish the editing and revision of the piece before I curled up for a short nap.

When I awoke it was almost four and I decided to take on Part 5 of the Jubilee Walk. Hopping into the 55 bus that ran along Clerkenwell Road, I got off at Old Street, then made my way on foot to the Museum of London where I resumed the route. Today’s segment took me through parts of the city I have grown to know very well and love very much from St. Paul’s Cathedral and Ludgate Hill to Fleet Street where the memorial plaque to Edgar Wallace was very moving indeed. Past a couple of old churches I went, turning right on to my own Chancery Lane of Bleak House fame and then presto, there I was on my own street–High Holborn–with my building staring at me across the road. I am so delighted to know that the Jubilee Walkway goes right by my road–it feels special to live on a road that is considered important enough to be placed on this historic route.

Then, I cut right through Red Lion Street to arrive at Theobald’s Road–this, of course, is my own stomping ground and parts of the city that I know like the back of my hand. This was a good time to nip into the Holborn Public Library to see if I could find Lonely Planet’s France to carry with me to Paris next week. And yyyessss! It was there! With it safely under my arm, I walked towards Bedford Square to my office on campus where I managed to photocopy a great deal of the book that will be of use to me. Unexpectedly, I met my colleague Karen who shares my office and I sat chatting with her for a while before I remembered that I had to rush off to pick Chriselle up from Heathrow airport.

Back on the bus I hopped, got home, had a shower and then I was off. I took a couple of buses as far as Hammersmith and changed to the Tube from there arriving in Heathrow bang on schedule–only to discover that the flight had come in early and that she had cleared Immigration is no time flat! Chriselle had reached the Arrivals area already where we had a loving reunion before I whisked her right off into the Tube for the ride into the city. Needless to say, we chatted non-stop on the one-hour long ride to Holborn from where we walked home.

Chriselle loved my flat and the quiet sense of serenity that fills it. She says it looks to her “like a hotel that feels like home”–which is really the best compliment she could pay me. Despite her long flight across the Pond, she was full of beans and had so many stories to share with me.

Then, because she was hungry, she decided to eat some of my home-cooked pasta and a salad that I fixed for the two of us. She tried to get online using my wireless system but was unable to log on and that made it impossible for her to get a bit of work done as she had intended to do. Giving up for the time being, we shall try to see how she can get online tomorrow.

It was well after 1.00 am that we finally decided to go to sleep–still leaving a great deal to talk about tomorrow. ..

‘Brief Encounter’ Gresham Lecture and More Jubilee Walk

May6

Wednesday, May 6, 2009
London

Phew! What a busy (and very productive) day I had! I am trying so hard to get as much work out of the way before Chriselle arrives tomorrow so that I can devote all our time together exclusively to her. I read about 25 pages of The Order of the Phoenix in bed as soon as I awoke at 6. 15 am, then checked and responded to overseas email (a lot of mail has arrived from India even before I am awake and a great deal comes in from the States towards the end of my London day) before I washed and ate my breakfast while watching Breakfast on BBC!

At 8.00 am, I transcribed my interview with Florence Daly, then revised my chapter for the new anthology on The Anglo-Indian Woman which, I have just heard from the publisher Blair Williams, is to be co-edited by my friend Margaret Deefholts and her daughter Susan. And a better editor than Margaret it would be hard to find, so I hope Blair knows how fortunate he is that she has agreed to take on this monumental task–because only a writer knows how much work an editor has to put into getting an anthology out!

When that was done, I graded a bunch of papers on ‘Issues in Contemporary British Politics and Culture’ and truly enjoyed reading my student’s responses to a lot of the topics to which they’ve been introduced during their year in London. By then it was almost noon–time for me to stop for a shower, a light lunch (pizza and cheesecake–OK, not so light!) and then I left for Gresham College to attend another free lecture.

This one by Roger Parker, Gresham Professor of Music, was on the film Brief Encounter and the recurring role played in it by Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto Number 2. Now I had seen this movie only a couple of months ago and had found it charming but awfully dated. I was curious to see what Parker had to say and in the few extracts he showed from the film and his very enlightening commentary, I learned to ‘look’ in a rather different way at the film–through the eyes (and ears) of a musicologist. I found him a very engaging speaker indeed with a delightful sense of humor to boot and I was sorry to hear that this was his last lecture for the season because he seems to be a much-loved member of the lecturing cohort. Darn! I so wish I had gotten to know about these lectures earlier.

It wasn’t long before I caught the 341 bus from Gray’s Inn that took me to Fleet Street from where I hopped into the Number 15 and off I sailed to the Tower of London to resume the Jubilee Walk. To my good fortune, it was one of those old Routemaster buses which, when I get to ride in them, I always consider an unexpected bonus. It was going to be Part 4 for me and I felt curiously energetic.

The Jubilee Walk Part 4:
This bit took me through a part of London I had never seen before–the East. It is the very heart of London’s Financial District (its Wall Street, I guess you could say) and at the very start of it, I passed by Monument, the 201 foot tall pillar whose height is of much significance. You see, the Monument was erected to mark the horror of the Great Fire of London and its height is exactly the same as the distance from the bakery in Pudding Lane where the fire is said to have originated in 1666 destroying most of the city and reducing it to a heap of ashes. The only upside of this disaster was that the plague was finally eradicated from the city as the carrier rats were drowned in the River Thames in their attempt to escape the flames.

Recently refurbished, the monument glows with a sort of inner light that is hard to describe. The beautiful bas-relief at its base has been stripped of centuries-worth of dirt and grime and the crowning ornament at the very top of the pedestal is glowing with the new coating of gilt that it has recently received. It is possible to climb the 311 steps to the very top to receive stunning views of the city–which today I was sorely tempted to do as it was such a clear day. But I decided not to get sidetracked from my goal (which was to traverse a good part of the Jubilee route) so perhaps I shall keep this challenge on hold until July when my friend and travel companion Amy Tobin is intending to come from the States to spend a few days in London. We had climbed the 500 odd steps to Brunelleschi’s Dome in Florence in March of last year–so I guess we can try to repeat that feat this year at the Monument–if I can twist her arm to do it with me!

Then, I was tramping the pavements again following those silver disks and arriving at the crossroads where The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street aka The Bank of England made her imposing presence felt in the center of a traffic island. It is here that a very striking structure marks the Jubilee Walkway. A conical shaped marker provides the information that I am standing in one of the busiest parts of the city of London. Each day, I read, 350,000 people commute into this area to work. And at night, there are only 5000 residents left here. That explains why on the Bank Holiday Weekend, this area was as dead as the dodo! There was just no one here! I was astounded. I mean, can you imagine, up there in all those countless offices are 350,000 people hammering away at their computers and keeping the (rather sluggish) wheels of the economy turning!

When I finished marvelling at that fact, I turned my attention to the Neo-Classical edifice that is the Bank of England. Ever since I worked at the Reserve Bank of India (following my dad into the institution in which he worked for 40 years) when right out of college and while reading for my Masters in English at the University of Bombay, I have wanted to visit the Bank of England. Little did I know that I would have to wait for so many years, nay decades, before that dream could be accomplished. But no, I did not go inside. I had to content myself with an exterior visit and a few souvenir pictures before I set out again, this time arriving at the equally imposing Guildhall.

It was here that I introduced for the very first time to the Guildhall Art Gallery. I had no idea that such a place existed. And when I popped inside, after I had taken in the medieval building that for a moment made me think I was back in Bruges in Belgium, I discovered that entry was free to “residents of the City”. Now since I live on High Holborn, I am a resident of the “City”; but, of course, I wasn’t carrying anything on me that would proclaim this fact. I mean who goes around carrying any kind of document that contains one’s address? Well, OK, maybe if you drive a car, you might have your driver’s license with you. But otherwise, I can’t imagine that many people might have such a document in their wallets.

At any rate, the security guard, a fellow-Indian from Poona, who was delighted to discover that I was originally from Bombay, informed me that after 3. 30pm entry was free. He suggested I visit the Clock Museum on the opposite side of the quadrangle for free and then return in 15 minutes time. I had, by then, decided that the Guildhall Art Gallery probably deserved a visit all its own and resolving to push off, I made a mental note to return–perhaps on a rainy day!

So I set off again, this time following the route towards the Barbican which I discovered is a mammoth complex that has been created in the midst of a glass and concrete jungle that can be terribly perplexing if one doesn’t have a good map. Indeed, I was in a part of the city that I had never seen before surrounded by modernist architecture–all towering skyscrapers and glinting window panes–that were not my cup of tea at all. It was rather thankfully that I found my way out of the maze. By then I was tired and spying a Waitrose tucked away in a corner of Beech Street, I nipped in for some rum and raisin ice-cream and decided to look for a bus to take me back home. It was only a few minutes before I spied both a bus stop and a 55 that came trundling along to take me along Clerkenwell Street which I recognized immediately from one of the self-guided walking tours I had taken a few months ago–and then, presto, there I was at the intersection of Gray’s Inn Road and only a few yards from home.

A nice cup of Earl Grey (make that several!) with lemon and a touch of honey and a slice of Victoria Sandwich Cake and I was ready to grade the rest of my papers and transcribe yet another interview with John Stringer who is easily the most fascinating Anglo-Indian subject I have yet interviewed in England. Not only did he have extremely unconventional views which he expressed with a delightfully wacky sense of fun but he had the privilege of meeting both Mohandas Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru in his lifetime and he told me about these with the utmost animation. When that was done, I returned to some more email correspondence which is flowing in copiously as my students are sending me the outlines of their final research papers for approval.

I had started working at my computer at 5.00 pm and it was after 9 .00 pm when I stopped to eat my dinner (Chicken Kiev and a salad) while watching New Tricks on the Alibi channel. By 10.30pm, I was in bed, having brushed and flossed my teeth, hammering out this blog and getting ready for my last night alone at home before Chriselle joins me.

Tomorrow at this time, Inshallah, I shall have picked her up from Heathrow and brought her home to my flat. I am counting the seconds until her arrival.