Tag Archive | Paris

The Jubilee Walk –Part 3

May4

Monday, May 4, 2009
London

When I awoke at 6.45 am today, the silence outside my window told me that it was a holiday. I had an early breakfast (went back to two slim slices of multigrain bread with Three Fruits Marmalade from Sainsbury and a cup of coffee–deciding to return to the carbs but go easy on them as I have reached my goal weight), then returned to my PC to start transcribing the interview I did with Dulcie Jacob. In-between I responded to email that keep trickling in as a response to the mass mailing I did yesterday to thank folks for their entries in my Golden Memories Album.

With the interview in the bag, I spoke to my parents in Bombay, then had a light lunch–a slice of pizza and an apple–and set off for Piccadilly and Knightsbridge to run a couple of errands. Holborn is such a commercial area that on a holiday there are so few residents here. Most of the businesses were shut and with some buses off the road, I entered the 242 to Holborn, then switched to a 38 that took me to Regent’s Street. I headed straight for the Visit Britain office to pick up the two London Passes I had booked for Chriselle and myself together with the 3-day Travelcards that will allow us to use the city’s transport system to get from one attraction to the next. With Chriselle’s departure around the corner, I am getting really excited about seeing her again.

I then hopped into an old Routemaster Number 9 bus from Piccadilly headed towards Knightsbridge and went straight to Harrod’s to buy some gifts for the French family with whom I will be staying in Paris next week. I know no better gifts to give people than something with the Harrod’s trade mark logo. It really seems to be very much appreciated and it so ‘London’ a gift. With that purchase safely in the bag, I got on the bus and returned home (but not before I tried out a few fragrances at the Jo Malone counter and gave myself a nice deep penetrating nectarine and honey mask with their Vitamin E and protein serum. I wiped it off after fifteen minutes with their rosemary and lavender toner. Lovely!

The Jubilee Walk–Part 3:
Back home, I deposited my buys, checked email and left my flat again–this time I was headed to Waterloo Bridge to continue with the Jubilee Walk–Part 3. It was an overcast day and the sun stayed stubbornly hidden behind a cloudy sky. The breeze was also pretty chilly and I wished I had worn a warmer jacket though my thick merino wool sweater served me well. London was left to visitors and Londoners today and it was clear to me how many numbers of people commute into the city to work. On a day when they are not required to be at their desks, the city appears empty. This was another rather interesting observation that I made.

My first stop was the National Theater Box office where I hoped to find some way to exchange some tickets I had purchased for another day. But since there was no way out, I will have to figure out some other way to resolve my dilemma. And with that, I began my walk at exactly
3. 45 pm.

The Jubilee Walk (Part 3) today all along the South Bank took me past some of the area’s most recognizable landmarks such as the National Theatre, of course, which I think is a terribly ugly building, the Tate Modern (another ugly building that is redeemed by the unusual lines of Wobbly Bridge (the Millennium Bridge), the Globe Theater which must be one of London’s most unusual structures, the OXO Building, the new City Hall (Sir Norman Foster’s handiwork that is very similar to the glass dome on top of the Reichstag in Berlin (same concept–a winding spiral staircase inside a glass dome), and Tower Bridge that is getting a new lick of paint (in preparation for the Olympics, perhaps?). The absence of the sun’s rays made it difficult to get good pictures but I did pose for a few and asked a variety of people to click for me.

One of the more interesting aspects of my walk today was the lifting of the Tower Bridge’s drawbridge that opened up to allow a sailing craft with a very tall mast to pass by under it. It was fun indeed to watch it rise and then lower itself so smoothly. Of course, all foot and vehicular traffic came to a standstill as everyone stopped to watch this fascinating and rather rare phenomenon. Needless to say, I clicked away hoping to see the drawbridge in various stages of operation.

Though for the most part, I have traversed these paths several times before, there were some aspects of this walk that were new to me. For example, I had never gone under London Bridge and I found it rather spooky and very reminiscent of the novels of Dickens. So it did not surprise me to find my notes pointing to the fact that Bill Sykes killed Nancy at this spot in Oliver Twist. The London Dungeon is not too far away and walking by it, I saw a brochure which indicated to me very clearly that this exhibit is not my cup of tea! I also passed through the Hay’s Galleria for the very first time–I had read about this place in one of my English Home magazines. Though it was less frenzied than it might be on a working day, it was fun to sit inside and rest my weary feet for a while.

A little later, I was crossing ornate Tower Bridge and finding myself on the other side where I followed the Jubilee Route that took me to St. Katherine’s Dock with its yacht wharf and its restaurants. Back in the vicinity of the Tower of London, I posed for a picture with an obliging Yeoman Guard (one of the Beefeaters) with Tower Bridge in the background and then stopped to take a close look at Traitor’s Gate and tried to imagine all the unfortunate souls who were led to their deaths through this entrance (Sir Thomas More and Anne Boleyn, for instance). How wretched they might have felt!

At this point, I passed a kiosk run by Paul’s Patisserie and since their hot chocolate is my favorite in the city and the wind was so biting, it felt good to nurse the paper cup in my frozen palms as I sipped the elixir slowly. At this point, my quest for a bus to get back home took me through a most convoluted route past the Guildhall that I was seeing for the first time until I found one that could get me to my doorstep.

By the time I reached home at 6 pm, I was starving but my email kept me busy as did a call from Llew. I was able to eat dinner (a cup of asparagus soup, Scotch egg, and my Pear Salad) only at 8 pm by which time I was dreaming of a refreshing shower and a good long and very deep sleep.

Baisakhi at Trafalgar Square and The Jubilee Walk (Part 2)

May3

Sunday, May 3, 2009
London

I awoke at 6. 15 am to the realization that it was my Dad’s birthday today. Given the time difference between London and Bombay, it would be best to call him at 8 am. But then, since it is a Sunday and I’d be getting ready for church at that time, I thought it best to call him just before I left for the 9 am mass.

Between taking a look and responding to my email and proofreading this blog, it was almost 8.30 am before I got out of bed, washed and dressed and left for the 9 am mass at St. Etheldreda’s Church at Holborn Circus. I did call my Dad and had a brief word with him, my Mum and my brother Russel before I left my flat. Mass was through at 10 am when I got straight home to eat my breakfast. I have lost about six and half pounds in two weeks on my low-carb diet but I have to say that I am craving sweets and feel a deep sugar deprivation. Still, I managed to fight the urge to eat something sweet and opted instead for eggs, bacon and sausages with coffee.

Then, I sat down to transcribe the interview I had done with Marion Holley a couple of weeks ago and found that it went rather quickly as her responses had been brief. Since I did not stick to a definite questionnaire with the Holleys, I had to fit their comments into the questions I usually pose to my subjects. It was close to 2 pm when I was all done with it and ready to email it to my office to be printed.

Baisakhi with London’s Sikh Community:
It was another beautiful day in London and realizing that the Punjabi holy day of Baisaikhi was being celebrated at Trafalgar Square, I dressed and decided to take a peep at it and when I was done there to get to Great George Street to continue Part 2 of the Jubilee Walk. The bus dropped me at Trafalgar Square which was already jammed with Indians, mainly Sikhs. There was a stage erected and a musical troupe was singing some spiritual songs. On one end of the square were a number of food kiosks where free Punjabi vegetarian food was being distributed. I joined the throngs and received a plastic spoon, plate and paper napkin before the food was doled out to me: a helping of chole, a paratha (which I declined–too high in carbs), a samosa filled with peas and potatoes and a bottle of spring water. Other than the samosa which contained potatoes, I guess I didn’t too badly on the carb front. When I finished my lunch (while seated on the parapet that faces Africa House), I walked down Whitehall towards the Horse Guards Parade. I crossed the Parade Ground and arrived at the point at which I had ended Part 1 of the Jubilee Walk yesterday.

The Jubilee Walk (Part 2):
Part 2 took me to Parliament Square and then to the doors of Westminster Abbey. These, of course, are parts of the city that I have often traversed both on foot and numerous times by bus. Still, it was fun to follow the silver disks set in the pavements and to read the notes that give a brief history of each of these famous landmarks. It was exactly 2. 30 when I began my walk and by 2. 45, I was crossing St. Margaret’s Green and arriving on the opposite side of the street and entering the Millbank Gardens where I had never been before. I saw August Rodin’s sculpture The Burghers of Calais for the very first time in its London setting–I have seen other castings of the same sculpture at the Rodin Museum in Paris many years ago and, of course, there is another version in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Petrie Court.

The Thames flowed placidly by on this clear and very pleasant afternoon. There was a slight breeze that picked up occasionally making me zip up my light suede jacket and tie my silk scarf more closely around my throat; but, for the most part, I was very comfortable temperature-wise. In the same park, I saw a the Buxton Slavery Abolition Monument with its interesting enamel decoration and conical shape and then on I went across Lambeth Bridge.

I had never been across Lambeth Bridge before and when I arrived on the South Bank of the Thames, I discovered Lambeth Palace. I had never even heard of Lambeth Palace and I wondered again how many palaces there are in this city. Right next to Lambeth Palace is the Church of St. Mary’s, Lambeth, a beautiful stone church with a flat clock-faced tower–the kind I find so evocative of the English countryside. Well, guess what? This church is not a church anymore–it is a Garden Museum! I read a notice board that explained that its conversion to a garden museum prevented it from being demolished! The museum was closed (being a Sunday) but I was able to stroll through a most charming garden that was already in full bloom.

A Garden in Shades of Pink and Purple:
I just cannot get over the fact that spring comes so early to England and then progresses so rapidly! At this time of year, daffodils are just making an appearance in New England gardens on the North Atlantic coast and it would not be until mid-June that I would see the lush growth that has already taken over the perennial flower beds in this museum garden. These beds were just gorgeous to behold and I took an endless number of pictures of plantings that had been ingeniously designed to feature a lavender color palate. There were marvelous giant irises in the softest mauve and the deepest purple. There were lovely aliums rising tall and stately in the middle of the beds. Magenta and pink flowers whose names I do not know combined with the shades of purple as did a profusion of white bushes. The design was so superb that I marveled at the talent of the gardener who had conceived of these combinations. Though the notes informed the visitor that this was a particularly difficult part of the garden to plant and maintain, you certainly could not guess that fact. I enjoyed this garden so much that I spent a few minutes on a bench near an iron fountain that wasn’t playing but which brought a nice focal point to the landscape.

Then, I was crossing the road and walking for a long while along the Albert Embankment taking in the sights of the Houses of Parliament across the river and all the time approaching the London Eye. This is a particularly quiet part of the river walk and is a marked contrast to the other side that you arrive at after you stroll under Westminster Bridge.

Below Westminster Bridge:
From this point on, the activity becomes rather frenzied as the crowds thicken. Again, this is a part of the Embankment that I have never walked through and I was amazed at how many tourist attractions are crammed in its vicinity. There is the London Aquarium, the Museum of Movies (there was a Charlie Chaplin double on a balcony above entertaining the crowds below), and, of course, this is the boarding point for the London Eye. This was one attraction I have not been on and really did want to do; but I figured I would do it when Chriselle got here and now with her change in program, I don’t think there will be time for me to fit it in. I shall certainly do it with Llew when he comes back here in July.

So on I went, after I took a few pictures of the London Eye and this time I was headed towards Waterloo Bridge–a section of the South Bank that was simple chockful of street side entertainers all along the border of the Jubilee Gardens. There were singers and dancers and musicians, jugglers and costumed characters of all kinds. They vied for attention and the competition was stiff. I realized that with the weather having changed for the better, these guys will now be out in droves entertaining the flocks of tourists who pay good money just to pose with them.

I went back the British Film Institute and the Hayward Gallery and the National Theater and by then it was 4. 30 and my feet had had enough for the day. I climbed the stairs, found myself on Waterloo Bridge and took the bus back home.

A Productive Evening at Home:
At 5 pm, when I reached home, I was hungry and my craving for sugar hadn’t abated one bit. I decided that I just had to give in, having been so good for 2 whole weeks–so I ate a scone with clotted cream and strawberry jam and a pot of Sainsbury’s hazelnut yogurt and I felt replete. This certainly satisfied my sweet tooth but probably did extreme damage to my metabolism that hasn’t had to process sugar for a long while. OH well!!! I refuse to feel remorseful about giving it to temptation. Since it was such a late tea, I decided that I would not probably have myself a dinner tonight.

At this point, I spent more than an hour of the evening doing something I have been meaning to do for a whole year–send out Thank you notes to all the folks who had walked down Memory Lane with me last July when Chriselle had sent out requests for items for a Golden Memories Album for my birthday. I had imagined that this would take much longer than it actually did and now I can’t understand why I waited for such a long time to send out these messages.

I sat to make a few calls to my relatives and friends and then decided to do something else I have been meaning to do for a long while–have myself a long soak in the bath tub. Now that I have to vacate this flat at the end of the month, I want to savor all its pleasures and I began by running a bath and pouring a few drops of fragrant Pomegranate Noir bath oil in it by Jo Malone. Then I lit myself a grapefruit scented candle, dimmed the lights low, found a copy of The English Home magazine and gave myself up to the delights and comforts of a long and very leisurely soak.

Then, I got ready for bed, for I was feeling extremely dehydrated after my soak. I wrote this blog, checked to make sure I had no more email from my students who are looking for feedback on their final essays… and then I finally fell asleep.

In Search of Burberry and The Jubilee Walk (Part 1)

May2

Saturday, May 2, 2009
London

I awoke at 4. 00 am today (groan!!!) and I could not sleep after that. So, I switched on my bedside lamp and began reading The Order of the Phoenix for an hour. At 5. 30, I felt sleepy again, dropped off (thank goodness!) and then awoke at 7 am.

Email, calls to India (to my brother Roger and my nephew) and I was ready to make myself some coffee. Holborn was silent as a graveyard (as it usually is on weekends). This weekend will be quieter than usual as it is the long “Early May Bank Holiday” (whatever that means!) weekend and I guess most people will have travelled out of town. I carried a tray with my coffee and other paraphernalia to my bed and began to work on a revised itinerary for Chriselle’s trip.

There were numerous calls to make. I phoned Bishop Michael at St. Paul’s to reschedule the tour of the Cathedral that he had set up for us this morning as well as our afternoon tea plans at The Wolsley Hotel and then the Backstage Tour at the National Theater. I also booked tickets for us to see Romeo and Juliet at the Globe Theater and finally I booked our 3-day London Pass which includes 3-day Travelcards because they are being offered at a special May Day 10 % discount rate and I figured I might as well take advantage. What with all this stuff to do, I could only have my breakfast at 11 am (eggs and bacon and sausages–yes, still low-carb).

Buying a Trench coat at Burberry:
By then it was almost 11. 30 and with the sun shining so beckoningly outside, I decided to do something I have wanted to do for a long while–get to the Burberry Factory Store in Hackney to buy myself a new trench coat. This was definitely something I wanted to take back home to the States and having done some research, I discovered that rates are best in this factory outlet. Though it is quite a hike into Hackney, I figured that with my bus pass, I could get there quite easily. Besides, there is a direct bus that goes from right outside my building (the 242) all the way to the far side of the East End.

And then since I was going to Hackney, I figured I would also visit Sutton House, a National Trust property that is not very well-known. Using the internet, I found directions to the venue and off I went. The bus trundled along within a few seconds of my arriving at the bus-stop. En route, I graded a bunch of student essays–so the ride was very productive for me. We passed the busy Bank of England area and went further and further into Shoreditch, past the Geffrye Museum and into an area that I had never traversed before. Before long, I was at Hackney Central mainline station and on my way to the Burberry store.

This part of London is entirely different from anything I have seen so far. First of all, it is all rather run down. Secondly, I passed a series of auto body shops that ran parallel to the railway line. Auto mechanics were the only people on this entire road. Thirdly, the population demographic had changed completely and I realized that I was right in the heart of Black Britain–there were loads of people with Caribbean accents all around the place–many recent immigrants among them. The bus stops were teeming with people and there was no sign of a queue of any kind.

I was amazed at how many people were at the Burberry store before me! It turns out that there was a big Sale on–now whether this sale was only for this weekend or has been on for a while, there was no telling. Many of the racks were all cleaned out–which probably means I had arrived at the tail end of it. The space is large and the amount of items to be perused was rather confusing. I did manage to find the racks that held the khaki trench coats that I wanted and in a few minutes I found one in my size–thank goodness they have American and European sizes listed on the labels–this made it easy for me to find the size I was seeking. The price was right, the fit was good, the decision was made. With my coat under my arm, I went looking for a scarf in their signature beige tartan and, guess what? I ended up buying the very last cashmere one on the shelf!!! These were exactly the two things I had hoped to find and as soon as I spotted them, I swooped on them and headed to the till. There was a long line ahead of me–people were buying clothing as if it were going out of style! Thousands of pounds worth of merchandise changed hands before my eyes as the line inched forward slowly. Then, with my buys safely in my possession and the VAT refund slip helpfully filled out by the sales clerk, I was on my way.

The National Trust’s Sutton House:
I asked for directions and in about ten minutes, I was at Sutton House, my next port of call. This is a really nondescript building clad in dark brick with a rather sombre look to it. Once inside, I found it rather empty. There was an assistant in the shop and a small cafe at the back (with very reasonably priced eats and drinks), a small courtyard garden that was quite delightful with its climbing vines and potted flowers. And then my tour of the house began.

Sutton House is a Tudor building that was built by one Ralph Sadleir in the middle of the 1500s. He was a close confidant of the King and played a major role in the politics of the reign of Henry VIII being involved in the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538. As a nobleman, his home boasted some of the trappings of the day that pronounced status and power such as the oak wood panelling that is still to be found in many of the rooms. My very favorite pattern of Tudor panelling called Linenfold Paneling is evident in the Grand Room on the ground floor. The carving on the wood looked like folded, or more correctly, pleated cloth. I had been most taken by this feature of interior decor at Hampton Court Palace about five years ago when Llew, Chriselle and I had spent the day there. Little did I think that I would have the chance to see it again–and this time I was delighted because I was able to take pictures of it as well (something that is forbidden at Hampton Court).

My self-guided tour took me upstairs into a few more rooms that boast more carved panelling and some paintings including one of Sadleir and his later 18th century descendants painted by a female portraitist called Mary Beale–a rather unusual find as women portraitists were so rare at the time. There were other rooms in the house (A Georgian Parlor, for instance and a Victorian dining room) but other than its age, there was really nothing that this property can boast and I wondered why the National Trust even bothers to run it (since not many people bother to visit it).

On the floor at the very top of the house, while I was inspecting a large mural that was presumably painted by squatters who had taken over the house during its transition into the care of the National Trust, I heard a buzzing sound (as if made by a bumble bee) and then a rustling. I have to say that I panicked as there was no one else in the room with me and no one around on that floor at all. My mind went immediately to a ghost as so many of these old London homes have resident ghosts in them and the last thing I wanted was to feel someone or something brush past me or tap me on the shoulder! I got the heck out of there as fast as I could and decided that if I am going to explore any more of these National Trust properties, I had better go to homes that are crowded with visitors. These deserted, even neglected, properties might be filled with interesting antiques and night hark back to fascinating epochs of history but they do give me the creeps!

A short walk later, I was back at Hackney Central and boarding the 242 bus home. My papers were graded on the bus and with a stack under my arm, I got back home to have a very late lunch (it was 4 pm and I was hungry but contented myself with a cup of soup and a salad). I spoke to Llew on the phone for a few minutes, then sat to rewrite my interview with Henry Holley–it required a great deal of restructuring to fit my questionnaire format and proofreading before I could send it off to my office for printing. By the time I finished, it was about 7 pm and with daylight still streaming through my bedroom window, I decided to set out on another one of my ambitions while in London–the Completion of the Jubilee Walk.

I had intended to do this when Chriselle came here but now with her plans having changed, we will not have the time to do it together and with the weather so perfect and my feet feeling much stronger, I figured I could complete it in the next few days before Chriselle’s arrival. So I picked up the Map and my bus pass and set out while the evening was still young.

The Jubilee Walk–Part One:
The Jubilee Walk is a 14-mile walking path that snakes over Central London’s most significant sights. It was created in 1977 in the year of the Silver Jubilee of the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. If you have seen silver disks every so often set into London’s pavements and wondered what those are…well, they mark the path of the Jubilee Walk. There is a crown in the center and the cross set in it always points in the direction in which the walker should proceed. There are several walkers, I understand, who just about do the entire walk in a day–while others do it over a period of a few days. I decided to do it in about 5-6 installments.

The bus took me to Leicester Square where the walk begins. Since the evening was so perfect, there were scores of people in Leicester Square and for the first time in my life, I actually noticed all of its many interesting features. I have to say, somewhat ashamedly, that I had never noticed the sculpture of Shakespeare right in its center! Nor had I noticed the one of Charlie Chaplin close by! There is a bust of Hogarth at one of the gates. Probably I did not notice these before because I had never entered this park. All I have done is skirt its periphery or make my way to the half-price theater ticket booth at one end

This time, armed with my camera, I took several pictures and then made one more discovery. Just as there are palm prints set in cement outside Grumman’s Chinese Theater in Hollywood, California, so too there are palm prints cast in metal all along one side of the Leicester Square Park. The palm prints, of course, belong to eminent contemporary British actors such as Kenneth Branagh, Emma Thompson, Hugh Grant and Colin Firth not to mention Pierce Brosnan, Roger Moore and Sean Connery (James Bonds all!). Gosh, I thought, this walk is going to open my eyes to things I have passed by a gazzillion times and never noticed!

Then, I followed the crown discs and walked alongside the National Gallery where Baisakhi (a spiritual festival of the Punjabi Sikhs of North India) is to be celebrated tomorrow. I saw kiosks set up all over the square and thought I should go across for some Indian food. At each point, during the Jubilee Walk, the map I was carrying gave me details about the history and importance of the place and I quite enjoyed discovering new facts about each venue.

In The Mall, I passed under Admiralty Arch and the statue of the Duke of York on its towering pedestal and then I was walking alongside St. James Park (London’s oldest, I discovered, created in the mid-1500s) while the Mall was created in the mid-1600s. Most of the flowering trees are at their peak now and soon foliage will cover every branch and give every corner of this city a completely different look. I arrived at Buckingham Palace at the end of the Mall and discovered why it is so called. It started its life as a simple town house that belonged to the Dukes of Buckingham and I believe that the first British monarch to inhabit it was Queen Victoria!

Around St. James’ Park I went. The light was starting to fade away at about 7.45 pm and I had to hurry with the pictures I composed. There was a profusion of lovely spring flowers in the beds around the sculpture of Queen Victoria as past the grand gates I went and noticed so many lovely perennial flower-beds in the Park that sported an abundance of spring color as the azaleas have started to bloom in hot shades of pink and red and orange. Very striking indeed!

This time, I turned and walked the length of the Birdcage Walk and rounded the corner to arrive at the Cabinet War Rooms (which I hope to visit on the London Pass once Chriselle gets here) and the sculpture of Lord Clive of India dominating the grand steps that connect the two impressive buildings. Before long, I was passing the back of Number 10 Downing Street, the residence of the British Prime Minister since the mid-1700s, and found myself at the Horse Guards Parade where a number of stands have been set up around the periphery. I asked a friendly bobby what they were in aid of and he told me “Beating the Retreat and Trooping the Color”. I had no idea what either of these things meant and he explained that they were ceremonies associated with the Queen’s Birthday in June. He also told me that tickets are available and that I could purchase one if I went online. I made a mental note to find out more when I got home.

By this point, I was tired, it was 8. 30 and dusk had fallen. I could not longer take any pictures and I decided to stop and continue the Walk tomorrow. I reached the nearest bus stop and caught the buses that brought me home at a little after 9 pm for my dinner of fried cod (M&S) with a salad that I fixed with everything I could find in my fridge (romaine lettuce, feta cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, fresh apricots, and a dressing of mayonnaise, mustard, olive oil, salt, and pepper. I watched Masterchef At Large on UK TV’s Food channel (in which there is a contestant called Michelle who, I suspect, is a South Indian Christian probably from Mangalore or Goa. She has been churning out a variety of typically Indian dishes–minced meat cutlets, Hyderabadi biryani and shrikhand with fresh mangoes. She has made the list of semi-finalists, so naturally, I am now rooting for her).

Then, at 10 pm, I sat down to bone up on my French (in preparation for my forthcoming trips to Paris and Lyon in France in the coming weeks) and sat down to write this blog. I finally felt sleepy at about 11. 30 pm and decided to call it a day. Hopefully, I will not wake up at 4 am tomorrow morning!

A Stroll Around the Serpentine in Hyde Park

May1

Friday, May 1, 2009
London

Awaking at 6. 30 am today, I was filled with dread wondering if I am slowly returning to my schedule of a 5 am wake time. I really do hope not. I tried hard to fall back to sleep, but it simply didn’t happen and, fifteen minutes later, I sat up to read some more of The Order of the Phoenix. I turned next to email and drafted a response to Chriselle to try to figure out how best to work around her new London travel plans. At 9 am, I showered, breakfasted and at 9.45, I left home for my meeting with one of my students who wished to interview me as part of his final ethnographic assignment. This was done at 12 noon by which time I was able to go up and see Yvonne for a while to resolve some tax issues.

I stood at the bus stop on New Oxford Street for a full 10 minutes before I began to suspect that something had gone wrong with the service. Not a single bus had passed by in all that time, which is most unusal, as there is normally a bus every minute. Then, someone passed by our bus stop and told us that there was a May Day March that had caused suspension of bus service for an hour or two. I walked home then and was in my flat by1. 30 pm when I had my lunch (a salad and a cup of broccoli cheddar soup).

By 2 pm, I was transcribing my taped interviews with Henry and Marion Holley that I had done a couple of weeks ago in Windsor. I really struggled with the transcript as the tape had picked up a ton of background noise from the restaurant in which we had sat eating lunch and chatting at the same time. It was with the greatest difficulty that I managed to finish the transcribing by 4 pm at which point, since the buses had started running, I decided I needed to get out again for some air.

I also had to return my books to the Holborn Public Library, so off I went and when that errand was run, I hopped into the 38 bus that took me to Hyde Park Corner. It was a particularly warm day and with only a light jacket on, I had boarded the bus after having crammed a few term papers into my bag. My idea was to get to The Serpentine, the lake in the midst of Hyde Park to which I had never been, and to do some grading after strolling for a bit by the lake side.

In about a half hour, I was there and asking for directions and following my map, I arrived at the Serpentine. The lake is so large, it amazed me. I had never been there before and the scene before my eyes was just delightful. Boats were scattered all over the lake–some row boats (which reminded me of a scene in As Time Goes By in which a macho Lionel tries to show off his rowing skills to a very amused Jean but succeeds in merely taking the boat for a spin and getting them nowhere!) and some paddle boats that were making much greater progress across the lake.

The sky was cloudy and since we were about an hour from sunset, the dying rays made colorful streaks in the sky. Ducks paddled by the banks, joggers and cyclists were on the tracks and a bunch of strollers walked airily by every so often. It was so lovely, I could have sat there forever. However, with the breeze having picked up, I felt rather chilly and was soon pulling my jacket more tightly around me. Interestingly, I was grading a pile of essays on John Constable and his world–Suffolk and the impact of nature on his art. My students had done well overall and I was very pleased with their work as well as the beauty of nature spread out before me in the simple pleasures to be had on the lake.

In about an hour, with all my papers graded, I closed shop, put them away into my bag and walked back towards Knightsbridge to take my bus back home from Hyde Park Corner. In just a minute, I boarded it and some 45 minutes later, I was home. It had been a lovely outing and I was so glad that I was able to tick one more item off my To-Do List in London (“Stroll Around the Serpentine!”).

Switching on my PC, I discovered from my email that Chriselle has decided to come to London after all even if we get only 4 days together. I will leave for Paris on schedule (mainly because I have to attend a symposium at NYU-Paris next week) and she will continue to stay on in my flat and spend a few days discovering London on her own. She is trying to see if one of her friends, currently in Belgium, is free to join her here–in which case she will have company while I am away. At any rate, she has a few friends here who, I am sure, will also make sure she has a good time.

Llew called me and I updated him on her plans, then I sat and ate my dinner (salad with Chicken Kiev from M&S) and then decided to write this blog before restructuring my itinerary for Chriselle’s visit.

A Visit to Primrose Hill and the Cittie of Yorke Pub

Apr30

Thursday, April 30, 2009
London

I did not do anything very exciting today which, I suppose, is just as well as I had so much work pending. I awoke at 7.00 am which pleases me no end, but at the same time, I am no longer able to get done all the writing I used to when I awoke at 5 am! So I am now losing two productive hours of work!!!

I spent the entire morning transcribing an interview I did with one of my subjects last week. I started at 10.00 am and by the time I finished with it and was able to send it off to my work email address to be printed, it was almost 2 pm at which point I stopped for lunch.

The drizzle which had wet the place this morning had stopped by the afternoon and with the skies bright again, I could not resist the thought of getting out and about for a bit–I had, after all, been chained to my PC for the entire morning. So I had a shower and hopped on to a bus from Holborn and took a drive and then a long walk in Primrose Hill, a part of London of which I had heard so much and wanted very much to explore.

Primrose Hill is just north of Regent’s Park. I wasn’t exactly sure how to get there, so I hopped off at Camden Market and walked all along the periphery of Regent’s Park. This brought me to the very pretty Regent’s Park Tow Path along the Regent’s Canal–a lovely space filled with houseboats on the water. I took a few pictures and continued my walk, asking for directions as I went along. Finally, about 45 minutes later, after going by the entrance to London Zoo, I arrived at Primrose Hill. This area is mainly residential and has become very upscale in recent years what with a few English celebrities having moved here. I thought I would find some nice stores in which I could window shop, but all I saw were a few coffee chops and a large number of estate agent’s offices. There were some interior decorating stores that I browsed in, but apart from that, well, nothing much and I was disappointed.

Back home, I was getting ready for my meeting with a friend named John with whom I would be visiting the Cittie of Yorke pub that is in my very building and boasts the largest bar in all of London–in fact, it is so large that one book describes it as being “more of a baronial hall than a pub”. It also proudly states that it serves beer from Yorkshire’s oldest brewery.

But just as I was getting ready to meet up with John, Chriselle called me about a change in her dates for her visit to London and now as things stand everything is still up in the air. Since her time here will now overlap my proposed dates for a visit to Paris, I am trying to see if I can get her a Eurostar ticket to join me in Paris on the Chunnel train. This is assuming the folks in France can also accommodate her at their Paris apartment in addition to me.

Oh well… I guess we will all have to take these changes in our stride. I am happy for her as the reason for the change in her plans is that she has rather suddenly landed the part in an important commercial in the States and is looking forward to her role in it. I am really glad for her and I am now keeping my fingers crossed that everything will fall into place and that we will spend quality time together no matter where it might be.

John did ring my doorbell on schedule and we did spend a very pleasant evening together talking about my research and our mutual interests. Over a glass of white wine, he gave me many ideas and suggestions for more places to explore in the vicinity of London and I am looking forward to covering all of them.

I reached home an hour later and spent most of the evening trying to resolve the issue of dates and flight timings and that sort of thing. I was quite wrung out mentally by 10. 30 and fell asleep after brushing and flossing my teeth.

An Anglo-Indian Interview in Southall and Dinner with Friends

Apr21

Tuesday, April 21, 2009
London

My day began at 6 am when I awoke and continued reading The Order of the Phoenix. Then the emailing began and I was kept busy attending to that while also juggling the grading of a batch of draft essays I received from my students. Breakfast followed–a high protein affair (as I am trying to lose some weight) with my frittata and bacon and sausages with decaff coffee. A quick shower and I was out of the house by 12 noon taking the Tube to Northolt and a bus to Southall to arrive at the home of Johnny Bartels who had agreed to become part of my inquiry into Anglo-Indians in the UK.

It turned out to be a very interesting afternoon as Johnny was full of marvelous stories that made me laugh out loud on occasion. It is amazing but having interviewed close to thirty members of the community, I find that no two stories are alike and each person provides me with life stories that are startlingly different. I am having such a great time doing these interviews that while I will be relieved, I will also be sorry when they are completed.

As in the case of most of the Anglo-Indians I have met in the UK, Johnny was warm and outgoing and hospitable. His wife was away but she had made sure there were enough ‘snacks’ for me–samosas and pakoras with chutney, cheese and ham sandwiches and cake all served with coffee! How very kind and generous! Unfortunately, I had to tell Johnny that I had started a low-carb diet and could not eat many of the things he spread out before me. He told me that had I given him more notice (I had made the appointment with him more than two months ago and had confirmed a few days ago!), his wife would have cooked me “a proper Anglo-Indian lunch which you do not get in any of the restaurants”, he said. Well, I appreciated the thought, but it is obvious to me that these folks make appointments with me and promptly forget about them!!!

Back home on the Tube, I got off at Holborn–one station earlier than my stop at Chancery Lane–so I could get a Lebara Top-Up for my cell phone and walk to Lincoln Inn’s Field where I sat for an hour and graded papers as the day was just gorgeous. The cherry trees were in full bloom and their soft petals had already begun to paint the lawns a soft pink. While I was at it, my cell phone rang. It was my high school classmate Charmaine, visiting London for a few weeks, inviting me to join her at a friend’s place for dinner. It was all very informal she said and her friend said that I was most welcome.

Well, I accepted the impromptu invitation and walked home to freshen up. Charmaine arrived at my door about a half hour later and we continued chatting nineteen to the dozen as we were meeting after 35 years and had so much distance to bridge. But then it was time for us to walk to Theobald’s Road, just 5 minutes away, where we arrived at Sushil’s home. Within no time at all, we were deep in conversation. Sushil served us some wine, then attended to the dinner that he had fixed himself–meat curry and rice with dal and raita. I declined the rice but ate everything else and enjoyed the home-cooked Indian meal.

Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, Sushil invited me to join Charmaine and him in Paris for four days this coming weekend. He was driving there, he said, and all I had to do was pack an overnight bag and be at his place by 9 am on Thursday. We would drive to Folkeston from where the car would board the ferry that would take us to Calais from where we’d drive to Paris where he owns an apartment at Montmartre! Now how on earth would it be possible for me to turn down such an invitation? I told them that they did not need to twist my arm too tightly–I would be there in a heartbeat provided I had nothing on my calendar that demanded my presence here. They simply would not take No for an answer. I did remember vaguely that I have tickets to see Three Days of Rain with James McEvoy on Friday…but I figured I could easily sell that ticket…

Dinner done, Charmaine showed me some video of her home and family members in Australia where she has lived for several years. Then, at 11 pm, she got up to leave and we thanked Sushil for his hospitality. His friend Gareth had joined us at the very end and we bade him goodbye too.

As soon as I got home, I took a look at my calendar and discovered that in addition to the play, I actually do have to teach 2 classes this coming Friday. These are make-up classes for the Bank Holiday classes we will be missing on Monday, May 4. I was devastated. I guess it was simply not meant to be.

But soon I did not feel too badly about it. I am scheduled to go to Paris next month anyway, so I will just postpone the pleasure for a little while. I emailed Charmaine and Sushil immediately and bowed out.

I am ready now for bed…pleased also that the mix-up with the Oxford Lecture dates have been resolved and I am now scheduled to give a lecture on Post-Colonial Literature from the Indian Sub-Continent at Exeter College on Wednesday, July 22. I have now to start working on this assignment. I am very excited indeed but very nervous as well.

An Unusually Busy Sunday in London!

Apr19

Sunday, April 19, 2009
London

I awoke at 5.oo am again! What’s it about this flat that wakes me up before the crack of dawn? When I am traveling, I never open my eyes before 7.00!!! There has to be some reason but I have yet to figure it out.

Anyway, I did not mind as there was so much to catch up with–not the least of which was keeping this blog up to date. I spent a good part of the morning writing a travelogue on my impressions of Belgium and captioning my pictures (because I need to stay on top of that project as well).

Barbara had told me about a church at Soho Square when I had asked her for recommendations. I wanted to attend Mass at a new church each Sunday that I stayed put in London. She did not know the name of the church but had pointed it out to me on the London A-to -Z. When I went online, I found out the name: St. Patrick’s Church at Soho Square, and the Mass was at 11am. I walked briskly down High Holborn and arrived there about 20 minutes later–it was a part of the city I had never explored, so I was pleased to arrive finally in the heart of Soho.

The Church was very plain indeed, compared to all the ornate affairs I have been visiting over the past few months. In fact, it looks badly in need of refurbishment (or at least a new lick of paint). Flakes were peeling off the walls and the kneelers at each pew have definitely seen better days. I discovered, soon enough, that there was to be a Christening ceremony taking place during our mass–another first for me! Who knew I’d get to attend a Baptism while in London? The christening party had occupied all the front seats on one side of the church. The rest of the congregation comprised a motley lot–mainly immigrants, it would appear–Filipinos and Indians and South Americans. Where were all the native Catholic Britons, I wondered?

My brother Russel had informed me on the phone in the morning that it was Divine Mercy Sunday–he keeps close track of the Church Calendar! Right enough, the priest preached a sermon about it. Rather frightening it was in its tone too! We must seek Divine Mercy in confession, he said, each time we committed serious sin (which, he said, included, skipping Mass on a Sunday). Uh-oh. With all the travelling I’ve been doing this past year, that has happened once too often, I thought. I’d better haul myself into that confessional pronto!

The High Mass included sung bits in Latin (the Gloria, for instance)–which, surprisingly, so many members of the congregation knew and joined in. I realized that these English churches have Latin masses much more frequently than we do in India or the States–indeed there is one sung Latin Mass on the schedule each Sunday at most parish churches here–which explains why most people can participate.

Communion was distributed the old-fashioned way too–you kneel along the Communion rails to receive. You do not stand (as we do in India and the States) in a double file. This takes longer but is more solemn. I spied a sign at the foot of the altar that said: “Do not proceed beyond this point. If you do, the alarm will ring and the police will come”. Oh my! This was probably intended for the drug-addicts and alcoholics who supposedly hang about the square.

After the Baptism and Communion, two ladies came forward to sing Panus Angelicus. As always happens when I hear this hymn sung well, my eyes welled up with tears and next thing I knew, I was wiping them away. Truly the voices of angels must keep the folks in heaven well supplied with Kleenex! Listening to them sing it so beautifully made my Sunday indeed.

Outside in Soho Square (Barbara was right–a bunch of alcoholics and drug addicts had gathered by the door for the free coffee that followed mass), the sun shone brightly. I entered Soho Park to read the board that gives an account of its history and discovered that Soho Square was laid out in 1680 and soon became one of the most fashionable addresses in London–the Duke of Monmouth owned a house here (in which he kept his mistress). Glittering parties and balls were very much the order of the day in this area as celebrities flocked to Soho in its heyday–well into the late-19th century. It was only in the 20th, that the arrival of Crosse and Blackwell heralded the end of the square as a residential hamlet and its beginning as a commercial one. The park is currently undergoing renovations (its bandstand is all scafollded right now).

It was a little after 12 .15 pm when I walked to Bedford Square to pick up some of my students’ papers for grading. Yes, NYU does stay open from 12 noon to 12 midnight on Sundays and Mohammed, our security man, was at his desk when I arrived there. I did pick up a big packet of mail that had been redirected to me from my New York office. Just when you think you’ve caught up with backlog, more work comes your way, doesn’t it? There was an envelope from Aetna Global (my international medical insurance company) reimbursing me by check for the amounts I had incurred on private physiotherapy in London from October until March. Only trouble was I had made my claim in British Pound Sterling–and they sent me a check for the same amount in Dollars! Which means that I have to now contact them by phone to sort out the issue of currency exchange rates!!!

On my way back home (I have finally found a way to get back home from campus that takes me less than 12 minutes!), I stopped at Sainsbury to do some food shopping. Standing on the scale this morning and seeing the figures jump sky high had told me it was time to take drastic measures–so I am back on a low-carb diet again. No more sugar, no more honey in my tea, no more fabulous artisinal bread. This meant that I had to cook, so there I was at my stove making mashed cauliflower with parmesan cheese, sausages with onions and yellow peppers, two types of chicken salad (Asian–the dressing has peanut butter and soy, chilli and sesame oils– with Cucumbers and Indian–this dressing has curry powder in it–with Apricots). I also made a huge frittata with onions and bacon and sun-dried tomatoes and olives. All this food should keep me going for the next couple of weeks as I froze a whole lot of it. What with cooking and cleaning and trying to take the many phone calls that came through, it was almost 5 pm when I was done and I hadn’t yet responded to my email.

Talking of phone calls, I received one from my friend Loreen from Westport, Connecticut, who is visiting her daughter in London for a week. She was hoping to get together with me but I bowed out as I had too much to do and decided that later in the week would work better for me. As it turned out, we both discovered that, quite by coincidence, we had tickets for the same evening to see Judi Dench in Yukio Mishima’s Madame de Sade at the Donmar Wyndham Theater–this coming Wednesday! So, we will probably meet for dinner before or after the show. Now what are the odds of that happening??!!

Llew and I also talked several times during the day as we had quite a number of things to sort out. Earlier in the morning, I had talked to my parents and to my cousin Blossom in Madras who informed me that she will be in London for 2 weeks at the end of July–but we might just miss each another as it is very likely that I will have left by then. My friend Amy from New York emailed me to find out when she should plan to visit. Everyone wants to come to London now that the weather has turned nicer…only my travel schedule in booked solid and I will only be staying here in this flat till the end of May.

I spent the evening captioning more pictures, then talking on the phone to all the Anglo-Indian respondents who made interview appointments with me, several weeks ago, for next week. This week, I will be traveling to Southall and then visiting someone in Notting Hill as I continue to interview the kind folks who’ve agreed to meet with me and tell me their stories. In the midst of all of these calls, I forgot that I was supposed to call my high school classmate Charmaine who emailed me to say that she had arrived from Australia to spend two weeks with her parents in London and hoped to get together with me. By the time I remembered, it was almost 10 pm–too late, I thought. I MUST call her tomorrow morning. Fortunately, I do not have my morning class and will only start teaching at 2pm.

Llew called me at 9 pm to tell me that while doing spring clean up in our back garden, he found a dead possum under a pile of leaves. It broke me heart as I had grown fond of the little fellow. He used to live under the deck in our garden and came out rather shyly on occasion to eat the seed that the birds dropped around our feeder. He was a harmless tubby little chap and it was our brutal Connecticut winter this year that probably did him in. Llew called Animal Control who will be sending someone to pick him up.

I tried to call Chriselle for our regular Sunday telephonic catch up session, but I only got her voice mail. Then, it was time to eat my dinner, take a nice hot shower and get ready for bed.

Where had the day gone???

Bonjour Bruxelle! Arrival in Brussels.

Apr18

Wednesday, April 15, 2009
London-Brussles

I’ve wanted to visit Belgium forever—ever since my brother’s friend, when a little boy of nine, once informed us that he was going for a holiday to Belgium. He had meant Belgaum in South India! We’d all had a guffaw but I was never able to get Belgium off my mind. I had once passed through the country by bus en route from Paris to Amsterdam many years ago; but, of course, had seen nothing of the country then. In the years that have since relapsed, I’ve made friends with some Belgians in the States and some of my American friends spent lengths of time when their husbands were posted in Brussels for work. It was time, I decided, to actually get to Belgium myself, so it was with some excitement that I was off—though I had not quite recovered from my travels with Llew into the Ancient Worlds of Rome and Istanbul.

I was excited for yet another reason—this was going to be another first time for me–first time that I was going to travel on the Eurostar line, aka the Chunnel train between England and the Continent that actually travels below the English Channel! It is a feat of engineering that my mind still cannot quite wrap itself over. I intended to savor the experience.

I set my alarm for 5.15 am, was out of my flat at 5.45 am, in King’s Cross Station at St. Pancras which is the hub for Eurostar in London at 6 00 am, “checked in” (i.e. went through security and immigration—just as in an airport), was boarding the train at 6. 35 am and at 6. 59 am, on the dot, we were pulling out of the station and on our way to Belgium. The ride was very comfortable and in the two odd hours it took I did my ‘homework’, i.e. began to read the travel guides I had borrowed from the library with the idea of planning my next few days. It took me a few minutes to get accustomed to the enormous speed of the train as we sped through the Kentish countryside, crossed the River Medway and barreled our way into Europe. I had taken one really fast train, similar to this one, many years earlier—the French TGV (Tres Grande Vitesse) train from Paris to Aix-les-Bains and I do remember feeling slightly disconcerted by its speed at the time.

I have to say that I was a little disappointed as I expected some kind of indication when we launched into the Channel Tunnel, but there was nothing. Also since the train weaves in and out of tunnels all the way out of London, you don’t really know when you hit the Tunnel. (you have a better idea of this when traveling from the Continent to England as you travel over ground all the way until you come to the Tunnel at which point, you remain in darkness for about 25 minutes before emerging into daylight again—that’s how long it takes to cross the English Channel).

We made one stop in Ellsfleet and then in Lille in France before the train changed tracks, left the Paris bound track behind, and headed towards Brussels. Spring had arrived in these parts for the fresh green grass of the cow-studded fields easily indicated that the seasons had changed. It was just a half hour later that we pulled into Brussels Midi station on an exceptionally warm day. As I hauled my backpack/strolley along cobbled streets towards the Youth Hostel where I had made a reservation, I had to peel off my denim jacket because it was so uncomfortable. I was glad I had bought myself an enormous bottle of water from a supermarket at the station, as, for some odd reason, I felt hugely thirsty. Using my map, I found myself at the hostel some twenty minutes later and since check in was not until 2pm, I stashed my bag in the rather high-tech storage room (for 1. 50 euros) and left. Again, armed with my map, I headed out at 11 am for the Grande Place, which was only a fifteen-minute walk away from the hostel.

Discovering Manneken Pis:
Along the route, I was delighted to come upon the famous sculpture of the peeing little boy called the Manneken Pis, which has become an icon of the city. And I was startled to discover how tiny he is! Not more than a foot tall, this little sculpture was the center of so much attention as tourists posed for pictures besides the stone pedestal on which he is propped way up. I have to admit that I joined the throngs and had my pictures taken against the copious jet. And then, a few feet down the street towards the Grande Place—a street lined with lace and chocolate shops galore, I also rubbed for good luck, the right arm on the brass-covered statue of Everard t’Serclaes (I heard a young teenage girl look at it and squeal, “Oh look, Jesus Christ!) who was murdered while defending Brussels in the 14th century. In fact, the brass on his right arm has so worn out that the stone beneath it peeks through, so often has it been rubbed by avid visitors and the city’s own dwellers each time they pass by it.

In the Grande Place:
And then, there it was—the Grande Place of which I had seen so many pictures over the years. It is really a huge cobbled medieval market square, one of Europe’s largest. Surrounded by the most ornate historic buildings, most of which were built during the Middle Ages and then rebuilt after destruction by the French, during the 17th century Flemish Renaissance, they were the headquarters of the various medieval guilds that controlled all artisanal trade in the country during those Dark Ages. As such, they are each crowned by the various symbols of these trades (the Boatman’s Guild House, for instance, is topped by a huge 17th century frigate’s bow). The square also serves today as a daily flower market which brings wonderful color to the center, especially now that spring is here.

It was at about this time that I started to feel deeply exhausted. Occasionally, only occasionally, in the course of my travels, I am assailed by the kind of inexplicable malaise that finds me suddenly dragging my feet. Whether this was because Llew had left only a day previously and I missed him sorely, whether it was because I had spent the previous two weeks with him traipsing through castles, cathedrals and museums and was so worn out that I could not really ‘see’ anything any more or whether it was simply exertion that was taking its toll on me was hard to say. But all I wanted to do was sit somewhere quiet and watch the world go by. And for a while that was exactly what I did in the Grande Place.

The Area Around the Grande Place:
A little later I used my DK Eye Witness Guide to Brussels to follow a road that led towards the Neo-Classical edifice called the Bourse—the country’s Stock Market. Very different from the ornate gables of the Flemish Renaissance upon which I had feasted my eyes in the Grand Place, this building features Corinthian columns, Greek pediments with carved friezes and sculpture by some leading lights including August Rodin. At the Bourse, I joined other tourists and sank down on its grand steps overlooking the main traffic-filled boulevard, and found it impossible to get up. That malaise was still haunting me. En route, I had also visited the Church of St. Nicholas and then I arrived at the Halles St. Gery, which is considered the birthplace of the city as a chapel to St. Gery has stood on this site since the 6th century.

Lunch at the Grande Place:
Then, still lacking enthusiasm, I traced my steps back to the Grande Place, stopping en route at a convenience store to buy myself a bottle of chilled Belgian Duvel beer. I ate my homemade sandwich and chugged my beer while watching tourists take pictures of the guildhalls as I sat on the stone steps of one of the buildings (noting, with dismay, that Belgium seems to be singularly lacking in seating along its sightseeing trails). It was almost 2 pm by this stage and as I ate and drank, I began to feel seriously buzzed. It was only later, reading in my guidebook, that I discovered that Belgian beer packs a heavy punch. Since I wasn’t sharing the bottle with Llew but had drunk it all myself, it packed a wallop and it was with the greatest difficulty that I launched myself up to my feet to continue my exploration of the city.

Window-shopping in the Galeries St. Hubert:
Using my map, I went in search of the Galeries St. Hubert, which comprises a grand shopping arcade that was inaugurated by Belgium’s first king, Leopold I, in 1847. Today, dominated by luxury merchandise shops selling designer clothing, leather goods, lace shops and expensive chocolatiers such as Leonidas, the shops are still fun to peek into and I had a good time though only window shopping. By this stage, I had eaten a great amount of chocolate as the attendants were eager to pass out samples. Easter eggs and chocolate bunnies, however, hadn’t yet dropped to half price in Belgium even though Easter was long past!

Just past the Galeries St. Hubert is one of the city’s most interesting streets—the Rue des Bouchers. This is a Foodie’s Paradise as it is lined on both sides by a variety of restaurants, most of which entice the visitor with a stunning array of appetizing arrangements of fresh seafood, fruit and vegetables. I walked its length, passing by the famous Leon and promised myself that I would not leave Brussels without feasting on its most famous culinary offering—moules-frites (mussels with fries).

It wasn’t long before I found myself at the Places des Herbes where I occupied a seat on a bench and promptly plonked down! It was a good hour before I stirred again, by which time I had myself a wonderful hour-long nap (or a drunken sleep, if you prefer!). But it proved to be incredibly refreshing because it spurred me on to get back on my feet and look for Brussels’ best-known church—the Cathedral of Saints Michael and Gudule. This twin-spired church is somewhat reminiscent of Paris’ Notre-Dame and is truly gorgeous inside. Despite the fact that I had just returned from Rome where I was made to feel “all churched-out”, I was still taken by its grandeur. The Last Judgment stained glass window with its vivid shades of red, yellow and blue was truly lovely. An extraordinary Baroque carved wooden pulpit by Antwerp-born Henri-Francois Verbruggen matches this visual treat, the likes of which I have never seen before. Over the next few days, I visited many churches with Baroque pulpits, but none of them matched the splendor of this one. It was designed in 1699 and installed in the church in 1776. Two staggering beautiful gilded statues of Saint Michael and Saint Gudule also stunned me as did the larger-than-life sized statues of the twelve Apostles that stand high on stone plinths above the congregation’s heads throughout the length of the nave. It was these interesting and very unusual features that made this cathedral stand out for me.

When I emerged from the Cathedral after a brief but very heavy shower had suddenly wetted the streets, I picked my way along Rue Neuve for some retail therapy for this street is filled with every conceivable European high street store and was busy with shoppers. Recession, what recession? I thought as I watched them hurry by.

Since I lacked energy to do anything more interesting, I decided to postpone my visits to the fine arts museums for my return from Bruges when I intended to spend one more day in Brussels. For the moment, I’d had my fair share of urban exploration and decided to take another route back to the youth hostel. Along the way, I passed by the Hotel Metropole, which, my guide book informed me, had one of the grandest Art Nouveau lobbies and bar-cafes to be found in the city. Indeed when I did walk inside to see for myself, I was quite taken by the degree of opulence with which the ground floor was designed. Lavish use of gilding along walls and columns and the brilliant pools of light cast by glittering chandeliers made the place look like a ball room.

Then I was buying myself a gaufre—a Belgian waffle—topped liberally with whipped cream, chocolate sauce and walnuts. This made a very filling dinner indeed as I returned to the youth hostel, checked into my 4-bedded dorm room, took a very relaxing hot shower in the attached bathroom and then, still feeling quite drained of energy, climbed into my bunk to call it a very early night.

It had been lovely to hear the sound of French all around me and before long, I was eager to try some of my own rusty French on the locals. But everytime I spoke to someone in French, they responded to me in English! And I realized how multi-lingual the Belgians are as they switch with ease from French to English to Dutch in a single minute.

Ciao Italia! Arrrival in Rome.

Apr9

Tuesday, March 31, 2009
London-Rome

Because, as the Chinese saying goes, a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first footstep, Llew and I left our Holborn apartment at 2. 20 am to catch the 2. 25 bus to Victoria—thank Goodness for London’s all-night red bus service that takes over when the Tube shuts down at midnight. We arrived at the Coach Station to board our 3. 30 am coach to Gatwick and were at the airport at 4. 30 am ready to check-in for our 6. 40 am Easyjet flight to Rome. With hot caffe lattes obtained from McDonald’s, we boarded our flight and as Llew snoozed across the Channel, I began to read the DK Eye Witness Guide to Rome to find out all about the ‘must-see, must-do’ items I needed to put on our list while touring this ancient city. I was excited to be returning to Rome after 22 years and to see it again with Llew for company.

All went well on board and when we touched down at Leonardo da Vinci airport at Fuimicino, I could scarcely believe that less than three hours after leaving London, we were in a completely different world. A quick hop across Immigration took us to a mini shuttle bus stand that for 15 Euros each promised to drop us off at our hotel near the Vatican called the Hotel Sant’ Angelo. It was a very sunny spring morning in Rome as we caught our first glimpses of this sprawling city from the window of our shuttle bus which dropped us off at our destination by 1 pm. After we were checked in by a very friendly receptionist called Sylvia, we stashed our bags in our room with its little French window and set off to discover the city.

The Piazza Venezia, the Roman Forum and the Coliseum:
It was thrilling to make the discovery that almost every important tourist location was just a fifteen minute walk away from our hotel that was located on the banks of the River Tiber that glowed rather greenly below the stone parapets that lined it. Using the superb graphic map that was given to us by the hotel, we wound our way along Via del Corso taking in the interesting shops and the piazzas that were thronging with tourists. Indeed, in all my travels this past year, I have never come upon so many visitors in one place and I have to say that I was frequently overwhelmed by the crowds.

It was not long before we saw the white marble opulence of the Vittorio Emmanuel Monument looming ahead of us and we spent the next few minutes studying the expansive piazza from which Mussolini made his victorious war-time speeches even as we paid our respects at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier with its eternal flame and its changing of the guard. When we had rested a bit, we started to skirt the area around this piazza and found our way to the Piazza de Campidoglio, designed by Michelangelo with its twin marble sentries on horseback and its geometric marble inlaid floor.

Onward we pressed, past vast groups of high school kids accompanied by their harassed teachers until we arrived at Theater Marcello which forms the border into the Roman Forum. It was our intention to tour the Forum and the Coliseum today and indeed there was much to see and admire. The weather was perfect for outdoor exploration and we took in the vastness and the majesty of this most ancient of European cities with a mounting sense of excitement.

As we walked along the Via de Cerchi, we found ourselves sandwiched between the Roman Forum on one side and the Circus Maximus on the other. There were loads of photo opportunities as the various ruined buildings of the Forum came into view including the splendid Arch of Septimus Severus which inspired the design of Paris’ Arc de Carousel. The uniformly planned streets of Rome with its four or five storey buildings all painted in shades of ochre also fascinated me and I could not stop taking pictures. We rested frequently along the way as the distances are massive and my feet are still rather too delicate to undertake long spurts of walking without adequate rest.

It wasn’t long before we arrived at the Arc of Constantine at the end of lovely Via de San Gregorio which must be one of the prettiest tree-lined streets in Rome. Crowds grew thicker each time we approached a famous landmark and as we caught our first glimpse of the mammoth Coliseum, we posed for pictures ourselves. The ingenuity of Roman engineering never fails to take my breath way and walking through the corridors of the Coliseum had the same effect upon me as we bought our tickets (12 Euros provides entry to the Forum, the Palatino and the Coliseum) and entered one of the ancient wonders of the world. Needless to say, we took many photographs of this magnificent structure that has withstood the test of time and despite being systematically destroyed and recast in various guises (its marble was used for the facing of many other Roman buildings), we could still discern the differences between the Doric, Ionic and Corinthian columns that make up its three tiers. Despite that fact that one has seen it often in pictures, its towering height in still stunning in reality and we felt suitably chastened by its grandeur.

We continued our walking tour along the Via del Fiori Imperiali stopping frequently to read the material and explanatory notes to be found in our guide book and marveling at the antiquity of the ruins in front of us. I remembered various locations from my last travels in Rome more than two decades ago, where we stopped again to take pictures until we arrived at Trajan’s Column, a copy of which we had seen in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. This wonderful monument sits right by the ruined remains of Trajan’s Markets and I tried to think of how amazingly bustling this place might have been more than two millennia ago when Rome was the center of the ancient world. Across the street we went, once again, to the Piazza de Campidoglio to admire Michelangelo’s handiwork from another vantage point—the piazza itself where we saw the sculpture featuring the she-wolf who nursed Romulus and Remus, the legendary founders of the city on the Seven Hills. The museums around us were tempting but we did not enter any of them as we were already rather exhausted by our travels and needed to find some sustenance in the form of our first Italian meal.

It was in one of the by lanes near Piazza de Trevi that we ate the first of many delicious bistro meals—Llew chose the Veal with Potatoes while I went for the Tagliatelle with Bolognese Sauce in a very humble street side trattoria which offered great people-observing opportunities. It was not long before we found our way to the Gelateria San Crispino which is written up in Lonely Planet as one of Rome’s best (on Via della Paneterria) and there we ate the first of many frozen treats that seemed to get better each time! Not too far away was the elaborate Fountain of Trevi beautifully lit and superbly highlighted. It is a breathtaking sight especially at night and though we might have succumbed to tradition and thrown three coins in the fountain to ensure our return to the Eternal City, the milling crowds made such an intention rather challenging.

By this point, we were both ready to call it a day delighted to note that our first day in Rome had proven to be so fascinating. As we crossed the Ponte Cavour, close to our hotel, we began to get our bearings and found that we were very well located indeed for all the sight seeing we wished to accomplish in the next few days.

Mother’s Day in Essex

Mar22

Sunday, March 22, 2009
Bishop Stortford, Essex

I awoke to another glorious day–this time in Essex. It is Mother’s Day here in the UK and Rosa’s mother Margaret from Manchester was with her at her place. We sat down to breakfast that included toasted Hot Cross Buns from the poem (usually seen around Lent) and then the Fradleys told me they would drive me around some interesting towns in their part of the world.

We drove first to Thaxted, a very old and very quaint town that sits right in the midst of the rolling Essex countryside. It was a good thing that Matt lost his way as we had the opportunity to see the little villages that dot the landscape in the simplest and yet most appealing of ways. At Thaxted, no one seemed to have awoken, except the folks who had found their way to the Norman Cathedral whose spire dominated the landscape. Thaxted also has a windmill, a rather unusual structure in the Essex countryside.

We discovered that the Parish Church of Thaxted dates from Norman times but is in a terrible state of disrepair attacked by woodworm and other deadlier sounding pests. It takes an enormous amount of money to keep such buildings standing in England and everywhere I go, I find on-going fund-raising activity to help support these churches. We arrived in the church at the end of the service and were invited repeatedly to join the congregation for coffee and chocolate biscuits. It is amazing to me how warm and hospitable these places are to strangers and how privileged they feel when you arrive to poke around their ageing monuments. Each woman who had ‘mothered’ anyone in her life had been presented with a little posy of daffodils and they walked out of the church with vivid yellow flowers in their hands.

Since it was only an easy walk towards the windmill, we passed by the church graveyard and made our way to the rather short structure that probably once ground corn for the area’s farmers. The rural idyll was perfect at this point–horses grazing near by in pasture, the red roofs of the village lying almost submerged in a hollow in the terrain, the church spire rising up behind us and a thatched cottage around the bend.

Walking through the village streets with its tiny shops, we returned to our car, at which point the Fradleys decided to drive to Saffron Walden–a market town that dates from the medieval period. The drive continued to be picture-perfect and I have to say I enjoyed this part of our outing as much as I loved the little towns we visited.

Once again, after we parked out car, we went for a walk in the town which seemed far more upscale than Thaxted. This town has many listed buildings and many of them are unique for the ‘pargetting’ or decorative stucco work on their walls–which I had seen and learned about in Lavenham on my visit last week to Suffolk. I found a great deal of similarity between the landscape of Suffolk and Essex which, I suppose, is not surprising, as the counties kiss each other. When we passed by the beautiful Sun Inn, we also discovered that it was used as Oliver Cromwell’s headquarters once upon a time. This was also the spot where I saw my first multiple frilled daffodils in the cathedral yard (yes, there is another Norman cathedral in this town). Indeed, daffodils were everywhere, many abundant banks of them glowing softly in the spring sunshine. People have already started planting their window boxes with primroses and the entire area seemed to be basking in Spring’s early abundance.

On the way back, it was Rosa who suggested to Matt that we drive by Audley End House, a grand Tudor manor in the heart of the Essex countryside–a home once associated with the ill-fated Howards who had played such an important political role in the era of Henry VIII. Though the manor does not open to visitors until the end of March, we were able to stroll around the grounds landscaped by the legendary Lancelot “Capability” Brown and see the bridges that he constructed to look like a natural part of the garden. Geese, ducks and mallards paddled busily in the stream that encircles the house and with the sun shining abundantly upon it, it was a perfect spot to stop for pictures. I am very tempted to visit Audley End House, an English Heritage property, and I understand that there is a train from the station of the same name and then a mile walk, if one wishes to get there by public transport.

Mother’s Day Lunch at the Fradley’s:
Then, it was time for us to return to Bishop Stortford to the Fradley’s home where Rosa got busy preparing the herb dumplings to place on the top of her lovely Beouf Bourgignon that was her special offering for Mother’s Day lunch. The kitchen filled with the most appetizing aromas as the casserole cooked away merrily and bubbled forth. A little later, we sat down at the kitchen table to a delicious lunch with red broccoli served on the side. Rosa had made olive bread at home to accompany the meal and we used it to sop up the gravy which was amazingly flavorful–what with its combination of beef stock and red wine.

Not too long after our lovely meal, it was time for me to leave. Matt dropped me off at the local British Rail station and off I went towards Liverpool Street Station where I stopped off at Tesco to buy myself some groceries for the week. I was opening my door at exactly 5. 30 pm after what had been a truly exciting week for me–what with my travels in Italy initially and then the bonus day in Essex.

Needless to say, I spent the next five hours unpacking, catching up with my email and voice messages, sorting out items for laundry (which I did before going to bed) and getting ready for my classes at NYU tomorrow as I will be teaching all day. Tomorrow evening, I have a play at the West End to look forward to–Arthur Miller’s A View from the Bridge–and since the reviews have been uniformly dazzling, I know it will be a long but very eventful day indeed.