Tag Archive | Museum of Science

Last Day in London

Aug3

Monday, August 2, 2010
London

Excitement of getting home to Southport after 6 weeks kept me awake half the night. I awoke at 6. oo am with the intention of getting my bags ready for the cab which was supposed to arrive at 7. 30 to get me to Heathrow at 9 am–traffic is awful in the morning, the cabbie said. We’d best be off early. Last-minute stuff was thrown into my backpack, more edibles I’d stored in the freezer were stashed in my bags and just as I sat down to a bowl of cereal at 7. 15 am along came the overly-enthusiastic cabbie, 15 minutes too soon!

Goodbye and Thank-yous all said, I was on my way, not along Cromwell Road (my favorite way out of the city) where the cabbie assured me there’d been a accident, but along Euston Road (less interesting). Of course, because we were early, there was no traffic at all and I arrived at Heathrow at 8. 30 am for my 12 noon flight! Once I’d checked in and re-distributed weight (my bag was three and a half kilos too heavy), I had all the time in the world to shop duty-free–so off to Harrods I went for mementos for Chriselle (found her the cutest Ferris key chain) and a Christmas pudding for our family and off to Jo Malone I went (for Pomegranate Noir perfume for me–saved almost $20 on a bottle) and off to the cosmetics counters I went for more sample spritzes and off to the Bacardi counter I went for a complimentary mojito (which after all the tension over my baggage I sorely needed) and then I was ready to make my way to the gate and sink down in my seat.

There was time after I’d whispered a prayer for a safe flight to reflect on my two weeks in London and to realize how singularly fortunate I’d been that I hadn’t seen a drop of rain in 2 whole weeks! I’d covered almost all the items on my To-Do List including visits to the National Trust’s out-of-the-way Hidcote Manor Gardens in Oxfordshire and Hever Castle in Kent, had eaten in a few of the restaurants I’d wanted to visit (St. John’s Bar & Restaurant where I went specially for the Roasted Bone Marrow and Parsley Salad) and Cafe Spice Namaste where I had the chance to hobnob with the chef Cyrus Todiwala and his wife Pervin and Patisserie Valerie where the Tarte de Citron is not half as good as Carluccio’s. I’d visited 4 of the 6 new museums on my list (the London Transport Museum, the Science Museum, the Foundling Museum and the Serpentine Art Gallery (the only one I didn’t get to was the newly-reopened Florence Nightingale Museum but I shall keep that for a later visit and the Brahma Museum of Tea and Coffee has closed down). I saw two good plays (the outstanding All My Sons with David Suchet and Zoe Wannamaker and Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors at the Regent’s Park Open Air Theater. I reconnected with so many close friends over pub grub and longer meals or shorter drinks. But perhaps the Highlight of my visit this time was the tour of Lord Leighton’s House in Holland Park. And another highlight was that despite being ill and fighting a terrible flu-like lethargy, I managed to make it to the Anglo-Indian Mela in Croydon which was really the main purpose of my visit to London during this time of year.

On the flight back, the UK slumbered brownly under partly cloudy skies. We flew westwards along the northern coast of Devon before skimming over the Atlantic. As soon as we broke land again over the Northern coast of Canada, I spied the jagged edge of Newfoundland and the region around Halifax (how pretty it all looked) before we flew over the Gulf of Maine, the Massachusetts coastline and along the vertebra of Long Island (did not realize how many swimming pools there are on the island–almost every house seems to have one the further east one goes) before we made a smooth touch down at Kennedy airport under cloudless skies.

American Airlines made me wait a whole hour at the conveyor belt for my baggage and as I sweated bullets wondering how Chriselle was faring on the other side (and hoping she wasn’t despairing of ever hooking up with me), I finally did sail through Customs and made contact with her. Apart from our affectionate reunion after 2 weeks, I received the most uproarious welcome from Ferris–indeed it is worth being away from home for 6 long weeks when one has this sort of welcome to anticipate. Chriselle drove on the way home which gave us a chance to catch up on all the happenings of the past couple of weeks since we’d parted in Bombay and then it was time for us to pull into the driveway of Holly Berry House as my travels came to an end and I surveyed all that I had left behind.

We had a cuppa in the garden which is badly weed-ridden–what with all the rain–and I realize I have exactly five days to bring it up to snuff before Llew and I leave on our trip to Canada at the end of the week.

As I bring this blog to yet another close, I say Au Revoir and Many Thanks to my followers. If only you (apart from faithful Feanor) would write me a line back sometimes to reassure me of your presence!

As they say in the UK, Cheers!

Tackling my London To-Do List

Jul24

Friday, July 24, 2010
London

I had showered, changed and was ready to hit the road to Litchfield when Michael descended the stairs to inform me that he had pulled a nerve in his back and felt uncertain about sitting behind a wheel for so many hours. Our trip to the Midlands was cancelled and I was left with the equally exciting prospect of spending a truly spectacular day in London on my own.

The thing about London is that no matter how often you’ve been and how long you’ve stayed, there is still always something ‘new’ to see. On a glorious day like today, I was torn between staying outdoors and ticking items off my To-Do List–many of which involved museums. In the end, I chose to walk the tight rope between outdoor and indoor activity and didn’t do too bad a job at it.

So, I left Amen Corner at 10 am after a delicious oatmeal porridge breakfast fixed by Cynthia and Michael in tandem–he provided the bits and bobs (oatmeal, oat bran, milk, water, sultanas, chopped nuts), she stirred and served.

Kensington Gardens:
I hopped into a bus at St. Paul’s, then changed to another on Oxford Street and hopped off at Bayswater, near Lancaster Gate. My aim was to stroll through Kensington Gardens which I’d never seen before (though I have been to Kensington Palace and the Orangery when Chriselle had visited me). I admired the Italianate Gardens though they weren’t in bloom, then walked on towards the lovely sculpture of Peter Pan by George Frampton which featured the boy who never grew up among the fairies and animals he adored. Right opposite is the thinnest thread of the Serpentine and the approximate spot where the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley’s wife drowned herself–heart-breaking.

On I walked towards the Serpentine Gallery which I’d never visited. Hard to believe that I spent a whole year devouring London’s art offerings and had never been to one of its most famous galleries. I seemed to have just arrived in time to enjoy the brand new lipstick red pavilion, the work of Jean Nouvel, that sits near the Serpentine Gallery which was once a tea room. Inside, I caught a striking exhibition of photographs by Wolfgang Tillmans before I spent a while resting my feet in Nouvel’s new creation.

A Triathlon was on in the Park and I walked past groups of sprinters on the Serpentine Bridge before I went in search of the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain where I was delighted to discover that I could kick my clogs off and paddle. What cool relief for my aching feet! Ten minutes later, I was near the Lido Swimming Club admiring the hanging baskets of flowers that filled the pavilion.

It was time to hop on a bus again and as it grew warmer towards mid-morning, it made sense to escape indoors for a bit, so off I went to Leighton House.

Leighton House:
Leighton House had remained closed for renovation, much to my disappointment, during the length of my stay in London. Since it reopened only a few months ago, it made perfect sense for me to make a bee-line to the London home of one of the late-19th century’s best-known artists-Frederick, Lord Leighton, at 12 Holland Park Road. And boy, was it worth the wait! The house, which is absolutely nothing to look at from the outside, was a true stunner within. I was completely floored. My five pound entry fee was waived, thanks to my Metropolitan Museum connection, so in I went after I had lingered in the garden for a bit and enjoyed a brief conversation with a lady who had curated a special exhibit inside entitled ‘Flaming July.’

Lord Leighton had a passion for everything Middle Eastern and entering this home is a bit like making a lightning visit to Damascus or Istanbul. His fondness for blue Iznik tiles is evident everywhere–on the walls, the ceiling and the floors–exactly as Llew and I had seen in the harems in Turkey. He was equally enthralled by Roman decorative design, especially the mosaics of Pompeii and I saw a great deal of the motifs I had seen during my visit to Southern Italy. Dozens of his own paintings line the walls as do a huge number of paintings, drawings and sculpture that formed his own personal collection. They range in style from the classical work of Michelangelo to the Impressionist work of Corot. The visitor walks through the rooms which have been recreated to reflect the manner in which Leighton lived in them, down to the finest detail as he was obsessive about getting every element right. Indeed, though the house was designed for him by the architect George Aitchison, Leighton was personally involved in every single aspect of it and his attention to detail is evident everywhere. So smitten was I by the man, his vision and his work that I believe this visit will be one of the highlights of my current travels in the UK.

The Science Museum:
Because the day was shaping up so beautifully, I spent a while lingering on Kensington High Street–I popped into Waitrose to buy some of my favorite goodies–their Walnut Bread, their Wensleydale Cheese with Ginger, their smoked ham–good for the sandwiches I shall prepare for our picnic in Wisley Royal Gardens tomorrow. With a triple chicken sandwich in the bag, I hopped into another bus, this time headed towards the Science Museum which I had never entered before.

You can tell that Science is not one of my passions, though children seemed to be having a whale of a time. I headed straight for the basement to see exhibits on the Home which detailed the history of such familiar household appliances and gadgets as refrigerators and toasters and irons, not to mention the cistern in toilets! I guess a science buff could spend the entire day (or several) in this space, but by then it was almost 5.00 pm and I was dying for a cuppa. The cafe seemed rather too bland for my liking and knowing full well that the superb Gamble Cafe was only a stone’s throw away in the Victoria & Albert Museum, that was where I sped. One large cup of Darjeeling (and a sandwich later) later, I was wading into water again–this time in the circular pool in the museum’s courtyard which was full of fellow paddlers. How delightful to be able to do this sort of thing! I had such a grand time and, of course, my poor abused feet enjoyed the treat as well.

Harvey Nichols and Fortnums:
On the bus again, we rolled in the direction of Piccadilly. When we passed by Harvey Nichols, I realized that I had never been inside this fancy department store–so off I hopped and in I went into another London institution. But, of course, once I was inside, I saw that there isn’t really very much to distinguish one department store from the other, so I took the elevator to the fifth floor and walked around the Food Hall for a while before I rode the escalators down so that I could walk around each floor and admire the Jimmy Choos or the Vivienne Westwoods. On the bus again, I proceeded towards Piccadilly, this time hoping I’d make it there by 7 o’ clock so that I could see Mr. Fortnum and Mr. Mason do their thing when the hour tolled–a tradition about which I had read only after I’d left London.

At exactly 7 o’clock, the two boxes on either side of the clock on the second floor of the store opened and out popped two life-sized figures dressed in the ostentatious garb (wigs included) of the 18th century gentleman. One carried a tray with tea things, the other held a candelabra. They moved smoothly towards each other, bowed graciously, raised and lowered their heads and twirled while the clock played a tune.And when they were done, they turned their backs on us and walked into their wooden boxes as the doors shut behind them. It was a the cutest sight and I was enchanted! To think that I have never left London without visiting this store (it really is one of my favorites) and did not know about this clock!

I’d have loved to have shopped for a few goodies, but I was in a hurry to get to St. James’ Church, Piccadilly, in the hope of seeing the interior, but alas, it was closed for the day. I do so hope I shall have the time to see it before I leave. If and when I do, I shall make sure I go into Fortnum’s as well.

It was time to get on the bus and head back to Ludgate Hill. I felt very proud of myself because I remembered the bus routes so well and barely needed to consult my map. Still, some things have changed for the worse–the construction (‘road works’)outside Tottenham Court Road has diverted the 6, 25 and 251 buses. I reached Amen Corner at about 8 pm really tired and ready to relax though I was simply too stuffed with all the food I’d eaten and decided to skip dinner.

I fixed some sandwiches for a picnic tomorrow and can only hope that the weather will hold up for my day outdoors with my friend Bash!

It’s Deja-Vu All Over Again! An Oxonian after 22 Years!

Jun24

Wednesday, Jun 24, 2009
Oxford

For some reason, I did not sleep well at all last night—I mean not a wink! Could have been nervousness or excitement about the fact that after working at this for such a long time, I would finally be in Oxford again on attachment to St. Antony’s College where I have the position of Senior Associate Member for the summer. I had set my alarm for 6. 15 am but I don’t believe I slept for more than 2 hours. No wonder I was still bleary-eyed and dazed when I awoke at 5. 45 and decided to have a shower, get dressed, finish the last bits of my packing, eat my breakfast and leave.

Journey To Oxford:
It was 6. 45 when I left my Farringdon flat. I took the 63 bus from Farringdon to Fleet Street from where I boarded the No. 11 directly to Victoria Coach Station. I arrived there at 7. 30 am, well in time for my 8 am departure. The coach was empty but just before it left, I was joined by a lovely black lady in the very front of the upper deck where I parked myself and hoped to sleep once the bus left the city environs. Her name was Ranti and she happened to be an Oxonian too—she had read English at Magdalen graduating about 12 years ago. It was a meeting that was taking her back to Oxford and at the end of the chat we had en route, she offered me a lift to my new lodgings at Norham Road in North Oxford from St. Clements where she would be alighting. I thanked my good fortune at such a helpful encounter and tried to catch some ZZZZs as our bus ate up the miles.

My New Digs on Norham Road:
An hour later, we were alighting at St. Clement’s and Ranti’s colleague Cat arrived in her car. Less than 5 minutes later, I was ringing the old-fashioned pull bell at Norham Road and was greeted by the couple who run this lodging for international scholars who come to Oxford to teach or do research. Mrs. Longrigg showed me to my room—a darling little Sun Room on the ground floor decorated in pink—a very feminine room indeed. Sunlight flooded the space from the wide windows and I found myself looking into a room with a narrow single bed, a bureau-desk with a chair, a very comfortable sofa chair, an armoire, a chest of drawers, a small table with a TV set on it and yet another table with a microwave oven, and a tray for tea and coffee. Unbelievable how much furniture was stashed in this tiny room—and yet it all seemed to work. It was very English indeed, the feel of well-worn furniture that spelled scholarly pursuits. I like it immediately even though I thought the fact that my bathroom was one floor below in the basement was a bit odd—but then I did not share the bathroom with anyone and had it all to myself (which is a big advantage, I guess, though I am not the sort to spend oodles of time in a bathroom).

Getting on at St. Antony’s College:
As soon as I registered and paid for my stay, I left the house without even unpacking and rushed off to St. Antony’s College to meet Julie Irving who is in-charge of the SAMs. She too put me through the formalities but we ran into a snag when she needed a real passport sized photograph for my official Oxford University ID card without which I cannot use the library or computer facilities. Well, I had no choice but to get to the City Center (a good ten minute walk away) to have a picture taken at Boot’s. Only Boot’s no longer have this service so it was off to W.H. Smith and I was four quid poorer after I had my picture taken and printed.

Instead of going straight back to the college, however, I stopped at the Oxford Information Center to find out about travel arrangements for the next few days as I do wish to cover some local sights when I am not in the library or drafting my lecture. I found the assistant very helpful and I left with maps and time tables for local buses and trains as well as the tickets I had booked earlier on the phone for the two walking tours—“Inspector Morse’s Oxford” and “Pottering in Harry’s Footsteps”. With all this information under my belt, I headed back to St. Antony’s. But Julie was at lunch at the Buttery which is where I headed too for I was suddenly starving. One large plate of salad later, I felt deeply fortified. Julie had already given me my Dining Hall card, which allowed me to take meals in the College Hall, and I joined a large group of students and faculty for my first meal there.

The Museum of Natural History and the Pitt Rivers Museum:
Then, it was time to go out and explore a bit of Oxford on what was a brilliant summer’s day. Skies were a piercing blue with loads of cushiony clouds and there was just that slightest bit of a breeze stirring the leaves on the trees. Just beautiful! I recalled the last time I had traveled to Oxford in mid-December of last year when I had arrived to tour St. Anthony’s and finalize arrangements for my attachment here. How bleak it had seemed! It was dreadfully cold and rainy and the entire atmosphere was so depressing that I seriously wondered whether I would enjoy my stay in Oxford. But after just ten minutes in the city of dreaming spires, I was left in no doubt whatsoever. I am so excited to be back here again to roam the familiar streets to which I became permanently endeared in my youth that my heart is exhilarated at the prospect of spending the next few days among these beloved buildings.

The golden tone of the Cotswold stone of which these buildings are constructed glowed warmly in the afternoon haze as I found my way along Parks Road to the Oxford Museum of Natural History and the Pitt Rivers Museum—two of the museums that I was determined to see on this visit because, somewhat incredibly, I had never been to this part of the city before. It was an episode of Inspector Morse that had actually introduced me to this rather unconventional space in Oxford and since the museum was closed for a while for renovation and has just reopened, I was determined to make a visit there a priority.

What a coincidence that I saw two Museums of Natural History (one in London and one here in Oxford) pretty much on two consecutive days! This one too is an imposing Victorian edifice with columns and pillars and a turreted façade. Its vast central hall, just like the one in London, is filled with dinosaur skeletons though its most impressive exhibit is the skeleton and stuffed Dodo that I realized (ignorant me!) was actually a real bird and not a mythological creation! The Dodo really did become extinct—hence the famous comparison, “As dead as the Dodo!” Lewis Carol included the Dodo in Alice in Wonderland because he often brought Alice to this museum where they would pause at this very same showcase and comment on the strange bird!

But my real interest in coming to the Pitt Rivers Museum was to see the famed shrunken heads and these were at the back in the adjoining building (the front building, the older one, contains the dinosaurs and the Dodo). The actual Pitt Rivers Museum contains the anthropological collections of thousands of pieces of a man named Pitt Rivers who donated it to the University on condition that a building should be constructed to house it and that the curators of the museum should also be involved in teaching about the cultures represented by his collection. It is impossible for me to explain how varied and fascinating this collection is and, no doubt, it would take a whole day to inspect every object carefully. Instead I headed straight to the shrunken heads and gazed in awe at the five real human male and female heads in the showcase representing people who had been killed and whose heads were preserved by a method of shrinking that involved the removals of the skulls and the brains, the slow heating of the features by the use of hot pebbles, the sewing up of the mouth and other rather bizarre procedures that reduced the human heads to the size of small tennis balls—hence shrunken heads. Needless to say, these were the most popular items in the entire collection and these cases attracted many visitors.

When I finished perusing these cases, I returned to the Museum of Natural History to take in the Charles Darwin exhibit entitled “In His Own Words” which celebrates the second birth centenary of this renowned naturalist. There were loads of pictures, pages from the first edition of his Origin of the Species and other important publications and all sorts of memorabilia that would fill any student of science with delight. I spent about a half hour looking at this exhibit, then simply had to take a break somewhere as my lack of sleep had made me feel exhausted.

A Nap in the University Parks:
The University Parks provided the perfect spot and there under the shade of a spreading oak, I lay down on the springy grass, closed my eyes and took a 20-minute nap that was most refreshing and rejuvenating in the midst of a number of folks who were sun bathing. Then, I returned to my house on Norham Road and took a second 20-minute nap, awaking only at 5. 30 pm. to unpack. I was disappointed to discover that though connected to the wifi network, I wasn’t able to pick up my mail and I called my IT friend Tim in London to request him to help me establish a connection. However, despite working on this issue for almost an hour, we were unsuccessful and decided to wait until I can get help from the owners of this home, perhaps tomorrow.

Dinner and the First of Many Walks in Oxford:
Then, I dressed again and set out for an early dinner in St. Antony’s Dining Hall—I ate cod in a lemon sauce with a huge helping of peas and green beans—a very healthy meal indeed and when I was done, I badly needed to walk it off. And so I took the first of what I know will be long voyages of discovery on my own two feet.

This evening, I started off at Carfax, but before I arrived there, right outside the Ashmoleon Museum, I found myself dodging hundreds of youngsters in costume, all piling into coaches that were parked along St. Giles. None of the Halloween parades I have attended in New York City had anything compared to this riot of color and style in the costumes that these kids were wearing. There were monks, priests and nuns, flapper girls, all manner of animals and birds, even a bride (who turned around to reveal herself as a young man complete with moustache!). When I asked one of them what was going on, she told me that they were headed towards a party to celebrate the end of their freshman year at Oxford. The theme of the party was Heironymous Bosch’s famous painting “The Garden of Earthly Delights” which Llew and I had seen at the Prado in Madrid a few years ago. This explained the weird clothing! Suddenly, all these surreal scenes I was seeing around me made complete sense. Good Old Bosch! I asked the student where they were headed and she responded, “We really don’t know. None of us knows where we are going”. Ah, one of those Mystery Bus Tours! How marvelous! Oh to be an Oxford undergrad again to take in these end of term do’s–garnering memories that will undoubtedly last a lifetime!

I then walked down George Street to find out where the bus stops are for the trips I shall be undertaking in the next few days. Then, I continued on the same street to a part of Oxford that I had never seen before—the Railway Station as I needed timetables for a journey to Stratford-on-Avon and back. That task accomplished, I took another unknown path, past the Oxford Castle (which I saw for the very first time) and arrived at the mall shopping area (of course, all shops had closed for the day) which I do not believe existed when I was at Exeter.

I was aiming to reach Christ Church Meadow for a stroll to the banks of the River Thames (which is called the Cherwell–pronounced Chawell—in Oxford). But it was already close to 9 pm and the Meadows were due to close in five minutes. I decided that I would return earlier on another evening and instead sneaked my way into Christ Church College to hear Old Tom, (the bell in Tom Tower) toll 101 times at exactly 9. 05 pm. This was a real hoot and I recalled a scene from the film Chariots of Fire where a group of Oxford undergraduates attempt to race around the quad five time before the bell finishes tolling 101 times! I also had the opportunity to take in the magnificent fan-vaulted ceiling above the staircase that leads to the Dining Hall which is one of the finest in the city—though I know that this is probably on the Harry Potter Walking Tour as it became the model for the Dining Hall at Hogwarts, I was glad to have this opportunity to take pictures of this largest of Oxford Quads from many different angles and in rather good light, considering that it was past nine. This is, to my mind, one of the best parts of summer in England—the fact that daylight can still be discerned close to 10 pm!

Then, I decided to get back home and as I picked my way along Banbury Road, I thanked my lucky stars that I have been handed this marvelous professional opportunity to return to Oxford after 22 years—this time not as a student but as a scholar—and to walk in the footsteps of my youth. The city is gorgeous—as glorious as I can remember—and I know that the next few days are going to make me feel as if I am in Heaven!

First Time Visit to the Natural History Museum

Jun22

Monday, June 22, 2009
London

Hard to believe that after a whole year of museum-hopping in this city, there are still some important museums I have not yet seen. The Natural History Museum is a case in point. 2009 marks the second birth centenary of Charles Darwin, perhaps the greatest naturalist the world has ever known–so it seemed important that I should make the time to visit this shrine to his intellectual productivity. As you can tell, science is not my chief priority–which explains why I have visited several rather unknown museums, whilst this one had gone unnoticed.

But first things first. I have to say that I am delighted that my sleep patterns have improved tremendously. I awoke at 6. 30 pm and finished reading Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince–yyeess!!!–which has proven to be my favorite of the lot so far–though poor Dumbledore dies and Harry dumps Ginny! With just one more to go, it seems as if I might well meet my goal of reading all seven novels before my return to the States. My students should be very pleased as they were the ones who induced me to start reading the series.

But after reading for an hour, I felt very drowsy again and I fell back to sleep, only awaking at
8. 30 am. After checking email and blogging, it was about 1o am. when I got out of bed and decided to have not breakfast but brunch as I had to leave the house for a memorial service at Royal Holloway College for my friend and colleague Sally who passed away last year.

So I ate a plate full of salad and foccaccia and prawns and pasta–a real smorgasbord featuring all the leftovers I could find in my fridge. Lunch done, I called to find out exactly where the service would be held and discovered, to my horror, that it was not at Royal Holloway’s campus in Bloomsbury but in Egham, Surrey, to which I had to travel for the service. That meant taking a mainline train from Waterloo and going on a journey of 40 minutes into the countryside.

I had not bargained for so long a journey and had not left myself enough time. There was no way I would make it to the campus in Surrey especially if there were only two trains each hour to Egham. So I abandoned the idea of attending the service and took buses instead to Kensington where I spent a while browsing in the upscale thrift stores before making my way to the wonderful edifice that comprises the Natural History Museum.

Well, first of all, I have to say that the building is simply splendid. It rivals the Victoria and Albert Museum, I think, in grandeur and bulk. Its entrance towers above in the form of twin turrets and the rest of the structure is equally imposing. Made of honey colored stone with gray granite banding it at intervals, it is covered with wonderful sculptures of animals and birds all around the exterior walls.

But wait till you see the interior. I mean, it is just stunning. I am shocked that I might so easily have missed appreciating this incredible structure. Even if the collection is not really my cup of tea, the building is worth a visit for the sheer splendour of its architecture and I am so glad I went.

There is a kind of austere beauty about the inside achieved by the use of honey colored arches, and pillars and columns, all minutely carved with primates clinging to the sides and a crisscross design reminiscent of bamboo or sugar canes. It is really fantastic. And then, of course, there is the imposing dinosaur skeleton that dominates the central hall causing every kid to take a step back. At the far end of the hall is a lovely marble sculpture of Darwin himself looking benign and avuncular and so kind some kids might consider jumping into his lap for a picture–which might explain why there is a barricade around it to prevent any such hi-jinks!

I asked the guy at the Information Desk for suggestions. Where should a first-time visitor to the museum begin? Did he have a list of highlights? He was helpful but couldn’t really answer my questions. All he did was give me a map and describe the entire museum to me. However, because he did suggest that I begin with The Vault, that was where I first headed. This is a section on the second floor that deals with natural stone formations and The Vault contains precious and semi-precious stones, as the guy put it “as large as eggs”. And so they were: rubies and diamonds and aquamarines and peridots and a host of other stones. There was also a collection of every kind of colored diamond in the world which took 25 years to put together–pretty impressive.

I was more fascinated by the actual meteorites that have reached the earth after hurtling through space, having originated on the planet Mars or on the moon. You can actually touch a meteorite that was as large as a stool! All of this stuff was pretty wild and I have to admit that I was excited (though for some inexplicable reason, I felt sleepy and at one point was ready to collapse). It was clearly time for a cup of ginger and lemon tea and a cupcake that I had purchased from the famous Hummingbird Bakery in Kensington (a date cake with caramel topping–deeelicious!). This pepped me up somewhat and off I went again.

This time I aimed for the giant sequoia or Californian redwood that is cut in a marvelous cross section that allows you to see the thousand odd rings that proclaim its age–it was finally felled at the age of 1335 years! Of course, having visited the giant redwood forests in California last year, having seen these cross sections before and having actually stood under these trees, I have to say that I was not that impressed. Still, it made a good addition to the museum.

Next, I went out in search of the Blue Whale–a massive replica of it with its skeleton intact is visible on a floor with a whole host of other large animals–elephants, giraffes, hippos, yaks, bison, etc. The size of the blue whale was, I have to say, stupendous, and had I not seen this mammal in relation to the other animals around it, I would simply never have been able to fathom (excuse the pun!) its size! I mean it was staggeringly colossal.

I could not leave the museum without taking a look at the dinosaur section and the museum has a grand one–loads of dinosaur skeletons (though these are all plaster models, I believe) and a few fully mechanized dinosaurs of various sizes that growled menacingly at the kids–much to their wonderment and delight. It is probably because I do not have little ones that I am deprived of the pleasure of taking them to see things like this–but I have to say that this visit to the museum took me back to Bombay and the days when my parents used to take us on weekends to places such as the Prince of Wales Museum where one of our favorite sections was the Natural History section with all the stuffed animals. So it was good and I had a great time and was really glad that I will not be leaving London without having seen the marvels contained within this exotic space.

Before I got back home on the bus, I stopped briefly at the V&A Museum next door especially to take a picture of the Jeringham Wine Cooler (as I did not have a picture of it). I felt a twinge of regret as I left the space because I know that with my stay here soon approaching its end, I shall probably not return to the V&A again for a very long time. Still, I have to say that during the winter months, my forays through these spaces provided me with loads of hours of intellectual pleasure and I am so glad I had this wonderful opportunity.

At home, I attended to my email, made a booking for my bus ride to Oxford and back, tried to fix a few more appointments with Anglo-Indians for interviews, had my dinner, wrote this blog and went to bed–but not before starting the very last Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows).

An Odd Sorta Day!

Feb6

Friday, February 6, 2009
London

It was an odd sorta day because I broke completely from routine–which makes me realize that I have developed a routine of sorts here in London.

Awoke at 6. 30 (yyeesss!!!)–finally awaking at a decent hour and not when the rest of the world is still snoring! Read my Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets for an hour, then at 7. 30 am began to check email and catch up with correspondence. This always takes longer than I expect, but by 8. 45 am, I finally got out to bed to have my breakfast. You see, it’s become part of my routine to eat my breakfast when I am home while watching As Time Goes By on Gold–I caught the series at the very beginning and am now watching it in sequence (after all these years of seeing it in dribs and drabs and completely out of order).

Watching it also gives me a chance to do the Contrast Bathing Therapy–actually Contrast Soaking is more like it, so that’s what I will re-christen it–the alternate foot soaks in hot and cold water. I also do my exercises at the time and massage the arches of my feet.

Today, after breakfast was done, I went back to my PC and did more work mainly by way of trying to sort out my schedule for the next two months. February is already chocobloc with interviews and travel–though I had one disappointment this morning when one of the folks I was supposed to meet this evening cancelled at the very last minute. In fact, I believe that she forgot she was supposed to see me and when I called to confirm our meeting, she said she wasn’t able to see me because the snow had disrupted her plans. What snow??? It’s all disappeared already–at least here in London. The snow seems to be providing the kind of excuse that Londoners have not had in two decades–so it’s as good a time as any, I guess, to take advantage of the freaky weather and cancel undesirable commitments!

Since I had a fairly free morning, I decided to watch Under the Greenwood Tree based on the novel by Thomas Hardy, but I was sorely disappointed to find that my DVD (sent to me by Lovefilms.com) was defective and half way through the movie, it simply stopped working–so frustrating! Now I will have to read the rest of the synopsis online somewhere. This brought me up almost to lunchtime when I decided to make myself open toasted sandwiches–one smoked salmon, the other cold tongue (both delicious and with the new tasty multi-seed bread that has just been introduced by M&S).

Then, it was time to shower, and get dressed and go off to school–but I caught Chriselle online and so we chatted for about an hour. Right after, I went in for a shower, then left my flat, took the bus to school and spent over two hours at my desk making phone calls to the various Anglo-Indian contacts I have recently made to request interviews. I was able to schedule about five of them, most of which will be done late this month or in March. I am hoping that the couple of people for whom I left messages will get back to me and that I will have at least ten more respondents by the end of next month. I really do want to spend the month of April in the British Library but I do not want to start examining documents until I have finished the bulk of the interviews.

When I had completed my work at my desk, I took the bus to Kensington to the V&A. I had a completely odd character come and take the seat at the side of me in the very front of the upper deck. Barney started a conversation and told me that he was a paranoid schizophrenic. “Most people think I am mad”, he informed me, “but I’m not mad. I’m just under a lot of drugs. My wife is a paranoid schizophrenic too”, he said.

My heart bled for the poor man. He couldn’t stop talking. He voiced this endless monologue while drinking coffee in great big gulps out of a paper cup. He asked where I was headed and when I said, “The Museum”, he said, “Which one? The Science Museum?”

I replied, “No, the V&A”, to which he said, “Oh, that one’s too high brow for me”.

“What are you?” he asked. “A secretary?”

“No”, I responded. “I am a professor”.

“Oh”, he said, and started to shake my hand vigorously. “I have never met a professor. What do you teach? Sociology?”

Now why did he pick Sociology, I wondered. ” No”, I said. “Literature”.

“Ah, Literature. Do you write well? I have great penmanship. Everyone says I write very well”, he said.

And so it went on. He pulled out a glass phial from his pocket and showed it to me. “I need to take these as injections on my bottom”, he said. “But these allow me to feel normal. They really work”.

Another Close Encounter of the Anglo Kind for me to write about and put into my proposed book. How pitiable was his condition! I truly hope that the combination of drugs he is taking will work for him and bring him healing; for truly, I have never come across anyone quite so distressing in a long while.

Then, I was in the V&A at 7 pm as the museum has late evening hours on Fridays and stays open until 10 pm. My feet felt better with all the massaging and exercises of the morning and I was determnined not to make them worse. I decided, therefore, to stay for no longer than an hour and a half. With this time frame in mind, I headed straight for the Nehru Gallery of South Asian Art on the ground level and then spent the most fascinating hour inspecting a great many jaw-dropping treaures from the Indian sub-continent from the Buddhist era to the Victorian Age of the British Raj.

I saw, for instance, a magnificent set of clothing of the Begum of Oudh. There was also the controversial sword of Tipu Sultan about which there was much brouhaha a few years ago in India. Vijay Mallya had bought it at auction and taken it back to India, if I remember correctly, but I need to read up a little more about it. At any rate, Tipu seemed to have possessed more than one sword for there is still one in the V&A that apparently bears his signature just below the handle.

The throne of Maharana Ranjit Singh was on display as was the signet ring of Moghul Emperor Shah Jehan and the wine cup of Jehangir. I saw spectacular turban ornaments that were presented by Nawab Siraj-u-Daulah after his defeat in the Battle of Plassey in 1757 to the British officials of the East India Company–seriously, the emeralds and rubies were as large as small eggs.

The gallery is stuffed with Moghul and Rajasthani miniature paintings, rare and antiquated Indian textiles–cottons, silks and woolens–that were fashioned into Western and Indian clothing of the time, furniture in ivory, sterling silver household articles, a number of amazing glass utensils, and an array of items that were acquried by British officials during the Raj as presents from Indian rulers–all of which were brought to England from where they made their way into the V&A through donations from the families into whose possession they entered. This section is a must-see for my students of South Asian Civilization and I will surely bring them to these galleries and conduct a lecture in the next few weeks.

Next, I went to the Fashion Gallery next door where I saw a number of interesting exhibits from dresses by leading couture houses over the 20th century to shoes in a variety of styles spanning several centuries and bridal dresses that covered about two centuries. This section always presents an ecletic mixture of items from the ridiculous to the sublime. I mean there were clothes in which I couldn’t see anyone dead and then there were exquisite gowns by Karl Lagerfeld for Chanel and Valentino, among others. There was a lovely outfit in ivory silk covered with seed pearls and sequins that was worn by Princess Diana on a state visit to Hongkong. This was auctioned off to raise money for her charities and was donated to the museum by the folks who bought the gown. The V&A is able to display only a very limited number of items from its vast repertoire at any given time; but it was fun perusing the cases. Certainly, there was nothing in this section that anyone could call remotely “high brow” so I would have to disagree with Barney here.

By 8. 30 pm, my feet had started protesting and I had promsied myself that I would stay for no more than an hour and a half, so I left the museum and took the bus straight home. I settled comfortably in front of the telly to watch Jamie Oliver while tucking into my Broccoli Cheddar Soup (possibly one of the most delicious things I make) and the Steak Pie I purchased from M&S for a pound. It was superb for the price–lovely crusty puff pastry concealed a hearty Beef Stew beneath. It was crammed with very tender pieces of steak and the gravy was finger-lickin’ good.

So on that rather satisfied note, I ended an odd sorta day and look forward to a more normal one tomorrow.

More Browsing at the V&A.

Feb5

Thursday, February 5, 2009
London

I had a rather slow start this morning though I did wake up at 6 am. Between responding to email (I received some letters from friends in the States that required long and thoughtful responses), looking for cheap airfares between Rome and Istanbul (a most frustrating experience as I could find none), chatting to my parents in Bombay, to Llew who is currently at a conference in Washington DC, etc. the morning flew past.

I started to watch a film called 28 Days Later which is set in London; but it was so gory a piece of science fiction that I had to give up on it less than half way through. While watching it, I began the Contrast Bathing Therapy that Jane Hampson told me about and it was not half as intolerable as I expected (but perhaps I do not have the hot water hot enough or the cold water cold enough). However it might be best to start with milder temperatures and work my way up to more intense contrasts. At any rate, it seemed right away as if it worked. But then while I was at the V&A, later in the afternoon, my right foot started to trouble much more than it has in weeks–so I started to panic and wondered if I should continue this therapy!

I ate a light lunch (salad and quiche), showered and took the bus to the V&A with the idea of seeing the rest of the Highlights on the museum’s recommended list. But alas, there was a massive traffic jam on High Holborn and after sitting in the bus for 15 minutes and not moving an inch, I asked the driver if he would allow me to alight. He did and off I went down the stairwell to take the Tube instead.

I actually began my perusal of the Highlights at 3. 30 pm but by 4. 30 pm itself, my feet started to feel very uncomfortable and I decided to leave and return home. These are the items that I saw today–they were scattered through the vast environs on four levels! No wonder my feet protested so loudly!

1. The Bhairava Mask (from Nepal, copper with studded stones)
2. A Helmet made in Greenwich for King Henry VIII
3. A Silver Basin and Ewer
4. Dante Gabriel Rosetti’s portrait of Jane Morris, William Morris’ wife, for his own poetic work–the poem and the painting are entitled, The Daydream.
5. A small crucifix meant to be worn as a pendant entitled The Real Thing by David Poston (made of crushed Coca-Cola caps).
6. An exquisite hair ornament in enamel, diamonds and rubies (looked like blown glass) in the Jewelry Galleries.
7. A medieval Tapestry entitled Falconry in the Tapestry Room.
8. A cabinet by Henri-Auguste Fourdinois
9. Negative Bowl by Ane Christensen–a totally unique item that is hard to describe.
10. The Burgess Decanter (a very ornate decanter made of multiple materials)

The search for these objects took me through some of the most amazing corners of the museum and left me gasping at the size and the quality of the collection. The Silver Galleries, for instance, are so extensive that just looking at all the works carefully would take a whole afternoon. In particular, I was seized by a sterling wine cooler (reportedly the largest in the world) on loan from Russia at the moment. This gigantic object was awarded as the prize in a lottery that was initiated to raise funds to build Westminster Bridge across the River Thames. The winner sold it to the Russian Tzarina and it has remained in the possession of the Russians ever since.

I also saw the Jewelry galleries which are so stunning that they beggar description. There were tiaras and necklaces and belts and all sorts of ornaments featuring precious gem stones that were as huge as walnuts! I was struck dumb by the many items on display–sapphires, emeralds, rubies, peridots, amethysts, all surrounded by diamonds that winked and blinked and quite dazzled the viewer. No wonder the lady viewers could not tear themselves from the glass cases!

I walked close by the Cast Courts (that Jane Hampson had taken us into yesterday) and saw a plaster copy of Michaelangelo’s David up close and personal–but, of course, it is not a patch on the real thing that is in Florence’s Academia. Still, if one hasn’t seen the oroginal, this is a good likeness and I am going to recommend that Llew take a look at it when he comes here at the end of next month. The same room had a replica of Raphael’s famous painting The School of Athens. I do not recall seeing this painting though it is in the Vatican and I must have seen it when I was last in Rome 22 years ago. At any rate, I am looking forward very much to seeing it next month when Llew and I visit Rome together.

The next time I go to the V&A, I will spend more time in the paintings galleries studying the work of Turner and Constable as there are a large number of their canvasses here–as well as the Ionides Collection that was bequeathed to the museum intact (The Daydream is a part of this collection). I have a feeling it will be a really long time before I finish seeing everything I want to at the V&A. Meanwhile, my right leg was really bothering me…so perhaps it is time for me to get some foot rest again!

On my way back home, I did some grocery shopping and look forward to cooking myself some pasta tonight with prawns, cheese and basil. I am amazed to find that the basil on my kitchen counter has taken root superbly and is flourishing in a glass of water! I am simply stunned as I have never ever seen anything like this happen in the States.

Ealing Interviews and Thoughts on the National Portrait Gallery

Nov24

Monday, November 24, 2008
Ealing, London

I’m becoming quite adept at messing around on buses! Today I spent about four hours on them! Two getting to Ealing and about an hour and half getting back to Central London. It is the easiest thing in the world to find out how to get from Point A to Point B on the buses using London Transport’s excellent website with the handy Journal Planner facility. You merely put in your starting and ending points and the instruction that you only wish to use buses (not the Tube or the River or the Docklands Light Railways–all of which fall within the network) and within seconds, you receive return instructions on how to map your route.

I also managed to review a series of first draft essays that my students had handed in to me…so my time on the bus was also rather productive on a day which was cold and wet and overcast and would have made walking on the streets rather unpleasant.

I am rapidly learning the bus routes and the easiest ways to make connections and, in the process, I am seeing London in a unique and very inexpensive way indeed. For example, today for the first time. I actually passed by Kensington Palace. I had no idea where this was located though I had heard of it following the death of Princess Diana as it was allotted to her as part of her divorce settlement from Prince Charles. Then, suddenly, there it was…a beautiful brown mansion set in a sea of expansive green lawn. I do intend to tour it before I leave England; but my To-See List is expanding in proportion to the diminishing days that I have at my disposal to accomplish it all!

I had scheduled two interviews today with Anglo-Indian sisters Doreen Samaroo and Cheryl Whittle. Since they live in Ealing and Southall respectively, Doreen preferred me to meet with her at Ealing. I did get to Doreen’s place at 11.30 am and spent almost two hours interviewing the sisters. They spoke to me so candidly and with so much emotion. It truly was a pleasure talking to them and I am grateful to all these individuals who are opening themselves to me, a total stranger, with so much warmth and ease. As is the case with the entire community, Doreen was warm and hospitable and offered me a selection of Indian snacks (samosas and pakoras) and her “homemade Anglo-Indian ribbon cake” and a comforting cup of coffee that sustained me through the long bus journey back.

Arriving in Central London, I hopped off at Trafalgar Square and headed straight to the National Portrait Gallery to continue my perusal of the portraits on display there. This time round, I started on the first floor with the 19th century and spent an hour and a half in the company of the Victorians, the men all mustachioed, the ladies in their high necks, stiff crinolines and ringlets. Victoria and Albert were, of course, well represented in portraits, sculpture and etchings, their love story providing the backdrop for some of the conventional and revolutionary relationships of the day–Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barret Browning for instance, George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) and the married George Henry Lewes, etc. I found the entire backdrop of history against which the literature, music, science and technology of the era was created deeply fascinating and I read the curator’s notes with the greatest interest. So many names from my own Indian heritage were there to be contemplated: Thomas Babington Macaulay (architect of English education on the Indian sub-continent), Clement Atlee and Ramsay McDonald (20th century Prince Ministers who thwarted Congress vision for Home Rule), Rudyard Kipling whose literary creativity took inspiration from the folk lore of Northern India.

As the 19th century gave way to the 20th, I was profoundly absorbed by the Bloomsbury Group in whose former stomping ground, I now teach and live and work. What a wonderfully rare synergy existed among all those deeply creative people in that one era and in that one spot!There was Virginia Woolf”s portrait by her sister Vanessa Ball, Lytton Strachey’s by Dora Carrington, Clive Bell by Roger Fry, Vanessa Bell by Duncan Grant. Having just returned from Cambridge where I learned about the Group’s beginnings at Trinity College, I scrutinized each portrait carefully trying to recapture in my mind the marvelously close affinity they enjoyed that began when they were undergrads and continued for the rest of their adult lives. From the Apostles’ Club at Cambridge to The Memoir Club at Bloomsbury (the Group met at the Bells’ home at 46 Gordon Square which I must now try to find on my map and then locate), they contributed such a wealth of artistic, intellectual and literary creativity to the last century! Yet so many of them were deeply troubled. Virginia Woolf and Carrington committed suicide, E.M. Forster and Lytton Strachey struggled with their homosexuality, Vanessa Bell had a long term relationship with Duncan Grant though she married Clive Bell. What, I wonder, precluded them from finding personal happiness? Was not their professional success adequate? Clearly their wealth and privilege, class and education did not enable them to find fulfillment. These were my thoughts as I perused those works–some oils on canvas, some pastels, some pen and inks, some photographs. They were all deeply moving and kept me enthralled.

I now have the 20th century to cover and I will be done with the National Portrait Gallery–perhaps later this week I will fit it in. Then, I can turn my attention to the Victoria and Albert Museum (whose Highlights I have seen before) and the Dulwich Picture Gallery which I have never seen.

By 5.15pm, having taken care to rest my feet in-between viewings and before leaving the Gallery, I caught the bus to Bloomsbury to attend a faculty meeting at NYU. We were felicitating Prof. Hagai Segal who won the award for Best teacher of the Year for the last year. Over beer and wine and a selection of sandwiches and pastries, we congratulated him, then turned our attention to a number of issues in a lively meeting that included many varying points of view.

My dinner having been eaten at the meeting, I took the bus and was home in ten minutes. Just a quick look at my email and then the writing of this blog was all that was left before I could chat with Llew for a few minute’s before retiring for the night.

My Kind of Day

Sep22

Monday, September 22, 2008
London

I had the kind of day that can only be described as perfect. Did a batch of laundry and cleaned my flat–still can’t believe how quickly I can finish that. Have finally mastered the brain behind the washer-cum-dryer concept and now my smalls are no longer getting fried and my clothes are emerging bone dry and do not need to get to an ironing board before they can be placed back in the closet.Yyeess!

Spent a few hours of the morning networking with my Anglo-Indian contacts and organizing the many names and addresses, telephone numbers and email addresses that are now pouring into my possession from all over the UK as people are helping me make connections. I will be spending at least one morning at my office this week sitting on the phone and making follow-up calls to set up interview appointments. I’m so glad that I had a breakthrough with Marina Stubbs in Brighton yesterday as that seems to have set the ball rolling.

Then, I made myself a sandwich lunch with everything that was in my fridge–multi-grain bread, hummus, olives, tomatoes, Stilton Cheese and Gorgonzola Cheese–and walked out into a very sunny afternoon. I headed straight for one of my favorite places in London, the National Gallery. Of course, I decided to take the scenic path there, past Covent Garden which had attracted only a few visitors until I arrived at the Jubilee Market which I discovered to be a covered antiques market. Of course, I could not resist spending a half hour browsing among the vintage jewelry and china bric-a-brac before I pressed on towards the Museum.

Part of my museum musing was also work as I need to identify the ten or fifteen paintings I will place on my own tour when I teach my Writing class at the Gallery on October 9. So heading straight for the research computers down in the basement, I spent the next half hour identifying the exact locations of a bunch of them based on the book I am using to study the works–The Guide to the National Gallery by Homan Potterton. It is my aim to go over every single one of the paintings in the Gallery in the next one year and I intended to study two or three rooms at a time. Well, I started at the Medieval and Renaissance Galleries and finished five of them, feasting my eyes upon the fabulous Piero della Francescas, the Giovanni Bellinis and the Andrea Mategnas in the Gallery’s collection while also studying some of the Albrect Durers.

Then, I sat on a bench and watched a few fat pigeons forage for food among the tourists as I munched my sandwich and took the shortest route I could to Green Park Tube station to embark upon one of the guided walks entitled “Spies and Spooks in Mayfair” from my book entitled 24 Great Walks in London. I discovered a place called Shepherd Market, the heart of the ‘village’ of Mayfair, Crewe House, one of Mayfair’s last existing mansions (today the Embassy of Saudi Arabia), two beautiful churches (Grosvenor Chapel where “coffee and cakes are served in the garden on the first Tuesday of each month”) and the Jesuit-run Church of the Immaculate Conception with its ornate Gothic interior and magnificent statuary, a wonderfully tucked-away park called the Mount Street Gardens where, during the Cold War, KGB spies are said to have congregated and left notes for each other on the park benches, the Claremont Club in Berkeley Square which sits cheek by jowl to the homes once occupied by writer Somerset Maugham, soldier and administrator Clive of India and Prime Minister Anthony Eden.

The terraced house occupied today by Maggs Bros Antiquarian Booksellers at Berkeley Square is reputed to be the most haunted house in London. There are many stories about the many apparitions that have been sighted here and the awful fate that has befallen those who did sight them. I also passed the Red Lion at 1 Waverton Mews, which, the book says, is singer Tom Jones’ favorite pub. At South Audley Raod, I passed by my very favorite shop in all of London–Thomas Goode and Co. that stocks the most fabulous china, porcelain and silverware that I have ever seen. The store is like a museum and every time I am in London, I love to spend an afternoon just feasting my eyes on the works of art represented by the painted porcelain on display for those with heavy wallets to purchase. I feel so indebted to this book for taking me into the secret niches of London that I would never have encountered on my own and, as always, these walks leave me with renewed appreciation and affection for this city.

Then, I hopped onto the Tube at Green Park and headed for the School of Oriental and African Studies where, in the Brunei Gallery, public intellectual, critic and journalist Clive Bloom who teaches Political Science and Culture at New York University was giving a public lecture on “The Idea of Britishness”. The auditorium was packed with NYU students taking the seminar on contemporary British culture and I was pleased to join them as part of the audience. Bloom’s lecture was jocular and serious in turn as he spelled out the uncertainties of identity that have plagued Britons in recent years as the influx of immigrants have increased and cultural polarities have grown. He did make jokes about the British penchant of pin-up girls in their tabloids, their obsession with Victoria ‘Posh Spice’ Beckham, their new vocabulary (chavs –a working class person with Burberry togs and bling, gingas–red-heads), and their idiosyncrasies–the English see the wearing of baseballs caps indoors as terribly disrespectful and consider curry their national dish. He was intensely proud of the fact that Chicken Tikka Masala was created in the British Isles and is unheard of in India.

So as I walked home briskly at 7. 15, I told myself that this was the kind of day I visualized when I was first told that I would be spending a year in London. It had all the ingredients that for me, at least, spell bliss–antiquing, studying Masterpieces in oil, discovering the hidden corners of a city on foot, and feeling intellectually stimulated at a public lecture given by an extraordinary speaker.