A couple weeks ago, in the Ancient Europe gallery at the British Museum, another patron tried to start a conversation with me while we were both looking at an exhibit. Ordinarily, such things would not be worth writing about; although it’s not terribly common for strangers to interact at a museum, it’s not unheard of either. Thus in order to fully appreciate just how peculiar this encounter was, I must first recount a similar event that occurred nearly a year ago, at another museum in London.
December 2007: I was in London to visit Goldsmiths and do an interview with the head of the visual anthropology department. Coincidentally, Joelle was studying abroad here at the time, so I was staying with her. After taking care of all my scholarly business, I played the tourist during the rest of my time in London – sometimes with Joelle and other times (when she had class) on my own. One day I was exploring Central London solo, and after wandering around a bit I ended up in Trafalgar Square. As the National Gallery is there, I decided to go in and have a look around.
I roamed the galleries for a couple hours, and when I sensed my museum tolerance threshold nearing, I began working my way toward the front hall. On my way there, however, I couldn’t resist pausing to look at at least a few paintings in each room. During one such pit stop, I noticed someone come up beside me out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t think anything of it, since the gallery was fairly crowded. But then he started talking to me.
“It’s just beautiful, isn’t it?” [Said with a Spanish accent.]
Being naïve and thinking every stranger who talks to me is just trying to be friendly, I went along with it. He talked about painting techniques and I mostly said things like “Oh, I know,” “Definitely,” and “Mhm.” It all seemed harmless until he turned the subject to me.
“Are you an artist?”
Ah-ha! I realized that he was probably less interested in the art than he was in…me. My level of discomfort doubled instantly.
Even though I was fully aware that he was flirting, I didn’t want to be rude and walk away, so I answered his question with as few words and as little detail as possible hoping he’d get the hint. I explained that I wasn’t an artist per se, but did enjoy making art. Unfortunately, this answer did not produce the desired effect. Instead it led to another question.
“How very interesting! I could tell just by looking at you that you were an artist. You just have that aura about you. What medium do you work in?”
At that point I was trying to inch away as I continued my misguided attempt at politeness:
“Umm…pencil drawing, mostly.”
“Ah, fascinating!”
He droned on about how he loved to paint, and how much he admired the Renaissance style, and how he was studying all this in the art academy – at which point he flashed the ID badge to some painting school he was wearing around his neck. But then he must have sensed I was slowly trying to move away, because he went in for the kill: “Listen, I’m actually here with a group of students in my class. I've got an hour before we need to meet up again. Would you like to go out for a drink in the meantime?”
Right. I’m going to go out with some random Spanish guy who picked me up at the National Gallery. I said no thanks and he immediately lost interest.
“Oh well, OK. Then I’d better go.”
He left.
I was thankful to get away, but was also slightly amused at his cheesy lines and how completely oblivious he was to the fact that I wasn’t interested. I learned three things from this incident. First, that strange men don’t start “friendly conversations” with young women out alone unless they want something. Second, that I could stand to be a bit more assertive when presented with such unfortunate encounters. And third, that I need to give off more obvious “I’m not interested” vibes. Clearly I wasn’t doing a very good job!
Now fast-forward to Tuesday, October 14, 2008: I was at the British Museum, fighting my way through throngs of young field-trippers to see all the incredible objects they have on display – the Rosetta Stone, the Parthenon Marbles, Sutton Hoo artifacts, etc., etc. As I said earlier, I was in the Ancient Europe gallery looking at an exhibit on the Lindow Man, a 2,000-year-old mummy uncovered in a peat bog near Manchester in the 1980s. I noticed the case was empty, so I began reading the plaque to see what the story was. (He’s currently on loan to another museum.) Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw another patron walk up next to me and stop. I didn’t really think anything of it and kept on reading.
But then he spoke.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” [Said with a Spanish accent.]
I looked up. Why did this man look so familiar? He kept talking but I was trying to place him, so I don’t really remember what he said. Then all of a sudden, I knew exactly who he was: the same guy who hit on me a year ago at the National Gallery was now hitting on me at the British Museum! I mean, what are the odds?
I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice, so I refused to answer his questions with anything more than “Mhm,” and started walking away, very clearly leaving this time rather than just inching. In a desperate attempt to get me to stay and talk he said:
“Wait, are you an artist?”
THE CLINCHER!
It was definitely him. I said “no” and walked quickly into the next gallery. As soon as I felt I was out of earshot I couldn’t contain myself anymore. I literally burst out laughing. He even used the same cheesy lines! I really think this guy doesn’t have a day job, but just goes around to museums trying to pick up women. What a creep! Now I wish I had called him out on it, but who knows? Maybe I’ll someday get my chance. For now, though, I’m staying away from museums.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tina
I realize it’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog, but before I finish the entries catching you all up on 1) a strange incident at the British Museum; 2) my trip to Frankfurt; 3) who my flatmates are (LONG overdue); and 4) what my classes are like, I have to get this story down while it’s fresh in my mind and while I still have reading to put off. Since I’m in movie mode, let’s make it a screenplay. Forgive me the technical errors – I’m not familiar with the conventions of fiction film.
“TINA”
Screenplay by
Helen Kendall
29 October 2008
BLACK SCREEN – SOUND OF KEYS LOCKING A DOOR
LIGHTS UP - INT. A GARISHLY LIT HALLWAY – NIGHT – BLOCK OF FLATS IN A SEEDY PART OF SOUTHEAST LONDON
HELEN, a graduate student heading out to the library to get away from Facebook and get some work done, is bundled up against the unseasonably cold weather that seems to have sprung from nowhere. She walks briskly down the stairs, her shoes clack-clacking against the pink tile floor. As she exits, the building’s heavy metal door slams behind her. She opens the outer gate, and shuts it carefully, noting the sign that says “PLEASE CLOSE THIS GATE QUIETLY!” Turning the corner past the bus stop where the noisy riff-raff seem to congregate at all hours of the day and night, keeping her awake with dramatic fights and off-key pub songs, she makes her way down the block toward the crosswalk. But, barely beyond the corner newsagent, she notices a young woman who is having so much trouble walking that she nearly staggers into the metal security screen pulled down over Bake & Bite storefront. There is no one else in the immediate vicinity, and Helen is concerned this poor woman might actually fall over.
HELEN
(stops next to the woman)
Are you OK?
WOMAN
(with slurred speech)
I’m juss DRUNK. Where’re you goin? You goin thiss way?
HELEN
Well, I’m going to the library over there. Which way are you going? Are you going home?
WOMAN
Yeeaah, I’m tryna get home. But I’m too drrunk.
HELEN
(grabs her arm)
OK, well let me help you. What street do you live on?
WOMAN
(utters something unintelligible)
HELEN
What?
WOMAN
(utters same unintelligible “words”)
HELEN
Well, you lead the way. I’ll just help you walk.
WOMAN
Thhankks. I’m reaally drunnk.
HELEN
It’s OK.
The two walk arm in arm up to the crosswalk. While waiting for the signal to change, the woman turns back to Helen.
WOMAN
Wait...‘re you American?
HELEN
Yes.
WOMAN
Damn! No, no...you Americans! Always trying to help. You should stop.
HELEN
No really, it’s OK.
WOMAN
But yur nod even goin thiss way.
HELEN
(imagining the woman falling and injuring herself, getting lost, being taken advantage of, attacked...)
...Really, I don’t mind.
WOMAN
Bud I live alll th’ way up on th’ill [hill].
HELEN
(wondering just how far she’s going to have to walk)
No, no. It’s OK. I just want to make sure you get home all right.
They walk across the street to the island in the middle, where another crosswalk waits. After a short pause, the woman tries to start the conversation again while they wait.
WOMAN
Whass yur name?
HELEN
Helen.
WOMAN
Oh.
HELEN
And yours?
WOMAN
Tiinna. Sorry I can’ talk to you, I’m too drunnk. I los’ my engagemen’ ring tonigh’.
HELEN
Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did you lose it in the pub?
TINA
Nah, I loss it in mah pocke’. I loss it.
HELEN
I’m sorry, I hope you find it.
TINA
Yah. I lookt, but I can’ find’t.
HELEN
(takes her arm as they cross the street)
I’m sure it will turn up.
They walk – with great difficulty - in silence for a minute or so. Then Helen hears a man’s voice, a distant yell: “Tina!” She stops and turns to Tina.
HELEN
Was that someone calling your name?
TINA
I thin’ so.
Helen hears the voice again, but louder this time: “TINA!!!” A small, slight man with blond eyebrows and eyelashes and a shaved head is walking quickly toward them. He is wearing no coat, which Helen finds surprising, given the cold. He must have left in a hurry.
MAN
That’s my drunken girlfriend! Cummon Tina.
Helen hands Tina over to the man, her concerned boyfriend/fiancé. He looks exasperated. Like he’s been sick with worry, but also like he’s had to rescue Tina from similar scrapes many times before. It is a “Sigh, not AGAIN” kind of exasperated look.
BOYFRIEND/FIANCÉ
(to Helen)
Thanks.
HELEN
Sure, no problem.
Boyfriend/fiancé leads Tina away. As they walk down the street, Tina babbles at him, staggering all the way.
TINA
(her voice trailing off)
Bud I loss ma engagemen’ ring! It was in ma pocked!
BOYFRIEND/FIANCÉ
I know, I know. It’s OK. Cummon.
Helen watches them disappear around the corner, then laughs to herself. Why she seems to draw such strange people (or strangely behaving people, or drunk people) to her with a powerful magnetism, she isn’t sure. But she knows this will make an entertaining story. Perhaps not as entertaining as the one about the CTA Holy Man. Or the ex-con who proposed to her at a bus stop. But entertaining nonetheless. She turns and heads back toward the library.
CAMERA STATIONARY – HELEN WALKS AWAY DOWN SIDEWALK
FADE OUT.
Screenplay by
Helen Kendall
29 October 2008
BLACK SCREEN – SOUND OF KEYS LOCKING A DOOR
LIGHTS UP - INT. A GARISHLY LIT HALLWAY – NIGHT – BLOCK OF FLATS IN A SEEDY PART OF SOUTHEAST LONDON
HELEN, a graduate student heading out to the library to get away from Facebook and get some work done, is bundled up against the unseasonably cold weather that seems to have sprung from nowhere. She walks briskly down the stairs, her shoes clack-clacking against the pink tile floor. As she exits, the building’s heavy metal door slams behind her. She opens the outer gate, and shuts it carefully, noting the sign that says “PLEASE CLOSE THIS GATE QUIETLY!” Turning the corner past the bus stop where the noisy riff-raff seem to congregate at all hours of the day and night, keeping her awake with dramatic fights and off-key pub songs, she makes her way down the block toward the crosswalk. But, barely beyond the corner newsagent, she notices a young woman who is having so much trouble walking that she nearly staggers into the metal security screen pulled down over Bake & Bite storefront. There is no one else in the immediate vicinity, and Helen is concerned this poor woman might actually fall over.
HELEN
(stops next to the woman)
Are you OK?
WOMAN
(with slurred speech)
I’m juss DRUNK. Where’re you goin? You goin thiss way?
HELEN
Well, I’m going to the library over there. Which way are you going? Are you going home?
WOMAN
Yeeaah, I’m tryna get home. But I’m too drrunk.
HELEN
(grabs her arm)
OK, well let me help you. What street do you live on?
WOMAN
(utters something unintelligible)
HELEN
What?
WOMAN
(utters same unintelligible “words”)
HELEN
Well, you lead the way. I’ll just help you walk.
WOMAN
Thhankks. I’m reaally drunnk.
HELEN
It’s OK.
The two walk arm in arm up to the crosswalk. While waiting for the signal to change, the woman turns back to Helen.
WOMAN
Wait...‘re you American?
HELEN
Yes.
WOMAN
Damn! No, no...you Americans! Always trying to help. You should stop.
HELEN
No really, it’s OK.
WOMAN
But yur nod even goin thiss way.
HELEN
(imagining the woman falling and injuring herself, getting lost, being taken advantage of, attacked...)
...Really, I don’t mind.
WOMAN
Bud I live alll th’ way up on th’ill [hill].
HELEN
(wondering just how far she’s going to have to walk)
No, no. It’s OK. I just want to make sure you get home all right.
They walk across the street to the island in the middle, where another crosswalk waits. After a short pause, the woman tries to start the conversation again while they wait.
WOMAN
Whass yur name?
HELEN
Helen.
WOMAN
Oh.
HELEN
And yours?
WOMAN
Tiinna. Sorry I can’ talk to you, I’m too drunnk. I los’ my engagemen’ ring tonigh’.
HELEN
Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did you lose it in the pub?
TINA
Nah, I loss it in mah pocke’. I loss it.
HELEN
I’m sorry, I hope you find it.
TINA
Yah. I lookt, but I can’ find’t.
HELEN
(takes her arm as they cross the street)
I’m sure it will turn up.
They walk – with great difficulty - in silence for a minute or so. Then Helen hears a man’s voice, a distant yell: “Tina!” She stops and turns to Tina.
HELEN
Was that someone calling your name?
TINA
I thin’ so.
Helen hears the voice again, but louder this time: “TINA!!!” A small, slight man with blond eyebrows and eyelashes and a shaved head is walking quickly toward them. He is wearing no coat, which Helen finds surprising, given the cold. He must have left in a hurry.
MAN
That’s my drunken girlfriend! Cummon Tina.
Helen hands Tina over to the man, her concerned boyfriend/fiancé. He looks exasperated. Like he’s been sick with worry, but also like he’s had to rescue Tina from similar scrapes many times before. It is a “Sigh, not AGAIN” kind of exasperated look.
BOYFRIEND/FIANCÉ
(to Helen)
Thanks.
HELEN
Sure, no problem.
Boyfriend/fiancé leads Tina away. As they walk down the street, Tina babbles at him, staggering all the way.
TINA
(her voice trailing off)
Bud I loss ma engagemen’ ring! It was in ma pocked!
BOYFRIEND/FIANCÉ
I know, I know. It’s OK. Cummon.
Helen watches them disappear around the corner, then laughs to herself. Why she seems to draw such strange people (or strangely behaving people, or drunk people) to her with a powerful magnetism, she isn’t sure. But she knows this will make an entertaining story. Perhaps not as entertaining as the one about the CTA Holy Man. Or the ex-con who proposed to her at a bus stop. But entertaining nonetheless. She turns and heads back toward the library.
CAMERA STATIONARY – HELEN WALKS AWAY DOWN SIDEWALK
FADE OUT.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Catching Up, Part 2: Portobello Market, Hyde Park & Southwark
All this is old news by now, but I promised to recount my first real adventures. So without further ado may I present: Tales of a London Pseudo-Tourist!
Yes, “pseudo-tourist.” Even though I live here, it’s only for a year, so I’m playing the tourist every now and then to see as much of this great city as I can. Two weekends ago, I went to the market at Portobello Road, wandered around Hyde Park, and took a walking tour of Southwark (pronounced “suthuk”) by the Thames. Here’s what happened.
Portobello Road Market:
My handy Lonely Planet city guide – which Kacey has so graciously lent me – considers Portobello Road to be the Londoner’s preferred market. Now that I’ve been I can see why, but I wholeheartedly disagree with their justification: that it is “less crowded…than Camden [another of the city’s large markets].” If this is true, then I shall NOT be going to Camden! Take a look at the seething mass of humanity that turned up to browse the antiques, a Saturday specialty:
Besides antiques, there was jewelry, artwork, various ethnic stuff, and produce. Everything's reasonably priced, too. That’s why I really had to restrain myself when I saw this stand:
Though it was tempting, I did not buy a horn. I did manage to find a few things at other, less…unique booths for Olivia’s birthday, however. Perhaps she is disappointed now that she knows what could have been. Alas…
One of the great things I’m discovering about London is – to put it in the vernacular – all the bits of history that pop up where and when you least expect them. In order to get to the market from the Notting Hill Gate tube stop I had to go quite a ways down Portobello Road. It was a lovely walk down a quaint little street, but the best part was happening upon a house with this sign:
How such a beautiful neighborhood could inspire such cynical, dystopian writing is a mystery. But to find historical sites like this around every corner is a delight for someone nerdy like me!
Hyde Park:
From Notting Hill I walked to Hyde Park to have a look around. My first stop was Marble Arch, at the western end of Oxford Street (the “Michigan Avenue” of London). From what I read on a nearby plaque, the monument was constructed in the 1820s to serve as the grand entrance to the newly rebuilt Buckingham Palace. But after further additions to the royal abode, it was moved to its present location in the 1850s. It is now the gateway to Speakers’ Corner, which these days seems to be more a testament to freedom of speech than a particularly useful forum for public speaking. Gone are the days when Marx and Orwell used to frequent the soapboxes there! In fact, the day I visited it was completely deserted.
Just outside Speakers’ Corner, there’s a large field that was full of Saturday loungers. They all seemed to have the same chairs, too, so I imagine you can rent them somewhere in the park.
After walking through the gate, I meandered through the park as the sun went down and took in the scenery. It was one of the most beautiful public spaces I’ve ever seen. Well, I suppose I’ve seen some more breathtaking public gardens, but Hyde Park’s charm lies in its simplicity. The rolling hills are covered with long, dry, and surprisingly soft grass. The trees are great hulking things, spaced far apart in orderly lines stretching across the fields. Fathers play football with their sons, university students sit under the trees and talk, and older women walk along the paths, trailed by their dogs which sniff the smells of the various dogs and squirrels that passed by before them. It is the very epitome of idyllic.
In the center of it all is the Serpentine, a manmade lake on which water birds swim and people boat. There seemed to be lots of families and couples touring around in rented paddleboats and rowboats that afternoon – and it was the perfect day for it! Sunny and warm; none of the usual “bloody English weather.” There were also lots of people feeding the ducks and rollerblading on the road that runs alongside the Serpentine. If only I lived closer to this marvelous place I would come all the time! It would be the most perfect reading place: peaceful, yet vibrant.
I would have explored the other half of the park – Kensington Gardens – had daylight allowed. Since I didn’t get that far, I will certainly be going back before winter comes!
Bards and Bawds in Southwark:
That Sunday, on a whim, I went to Shakespeare’s Globe in Bankside, Southwark, to see if I could buy a ticket to one of the last performances of the season. Their plays only run until the first week of October because it’s an open-air theatre. That may be hard to tell from this picture of the exterior, but here it is:
When I arrived at the box office, there was a “Sold Out” sign for that night’s performance of “The Merry Wives of Windsor.” I had neither seen nor read the play before, and I had, unfortunately, already got my heart set on attending, so I thought I might buy a ticket for following (and final) weekend instead. But that was sold out, too!
Luckily, there were a few “returned” tickets for that night’s performance. “But I’m afraid,” the man working in the booth said, hesitating, “they’re Yard Standing tickets.” It must have been my day, because that was exactly what I wanted: to pay a mere £5 for the privilege of experiencing Shakespeare as the unwashed masses once did – as groundlings packed in the yard, ready to cheer, jeer, and throw food at any rotten actors! Okay, so they don’t allow that anymore…but those are still the cheap “seats,” and supposedly the only real way to see a show at the Globe. I was so there.
Since I had almost four hours to pass until the gates opened, I decided to do the “Bards and Bawds in Southwark” tour in the book my mom and dad gave me before I left: Fodor’s 24 Great Walks in London. When I inspected the map, I realized I had inadvertently done the second half of the walk on my way from the London Bridge tube station to the Globe! So I started from where I was, walking the first half in reverse.
My first stop was the Ferryman’s Seat.
Tucked away in an alley and built into the side of a modern building, this artifact is apparently of “ancient origins.” (Whatever that means. No date was given.) According to the guidebook, it was “a convenient resting place for the Bankside watermen who ferried customers back and forth across the river from [that] spot.” Self-explanatory and perhaps a bit dull, I thought the Ferryman’s Seat was interesting nevertheless because it's one of those hidden “bits of history” that seem to be everywhere in London.
Next I came to the site of the original Globe Theatre, which burned down in 1613 during a performance of Henry VIII. As you can tell from the picture below, the space is now quite unremarkable. There are a few signs with a short history of the building and some decorative stones on the ground marking what used to be its outer edge, but it’s really just a cobblestone yard between apartment buildings.
Then there was the Cross Bones Graveyard. Unfortunately, I accidentally deleted the pictures I took here, but it was pretty neat. It’s basically just a fence, but the local community has taken it over and made it into a shrine covered with hundreds of ribbons and signs. That’s because behind the fence is a maintenance yard that belongs to Transport for London, which was built over an unconsecrated burial ground for prostitutes and debtors that dates back to the Middle Ages. Gruesome!
Another highlight was the Red Cross Garden, a lovely bit of green space that was set aside for the poor by a famous Southwark social reformer in the late 19th century. I also came across another small park with a very interesting back wall. According to the plaque mounted on it, the wall is all that remains of Marshalsea Prison, where Charles Dickens’s father was once imprisoned for debt.
Working my way back to the end of the route, I stopped in at the Southwark Cathedral and took the self-guided tour. From this I learned that the church has been there in some form since the Norman era, although the present building was constructed at intervals between 1106 and 1897. The majority of the architecture, however, is gothic, which dates to around the 14th century. Besides seeing some real gothic architecture (as opposed to Chicago), there were lots of interesting features inside, including a monument to Shakespeare and the tomb of John Gower, the father of English poetry.
Heading toward the Thames again, I passed the Clink Prison museum. Knowing that the Clink is one of the most notorious Medieval prisons, this stop sounded awesome, but I didn’t want to shell out the £££ to go inside. (Actually, it’s a lot cheaper than I thought it was at the time, so I might have to go back!) Next I passed the Golden Hinde, a reconstruction of the clipper captained by Sir Francis Drake on his voyage around the world. This isn’t the world’s greatest picture, but it’s one of the few I took on this trip that came out (I’ll get a new camera soon, I promise!):
Back toward Shakespeare’s Globe I came upon the final stop of the walk: a series of granite panels with carved scenes of a Frost Fair on the Thames. A nearby plaque explained that Frost Fairs took place between the 15th and 19th centuries, when the English climate was much colder than it is now. Old London Bridge slowed the Thames enough that the river would freeze completely during severe winters. As you can imagine, Londoners took full advantage of the situation and held lively fairs out on the ice!
Finally, three hours and three and a half miles later, I made it back to the Globe. By then I was famished, so I stopped in at a self-serve café chain called EAT for a bite and afterwards I milled around in the theatre’s gift shop until the gates opened for the show. Once inside, I staked out what I thought was the perfect spot at the very back of the yard, where I could lean against the wall (I was tired from all that walking!). As the yard filled up, though, I realized how stupid that strategy was. How could I forget that short women like me somehow always get stuck behind especially tall men at theatrical performances, movies, and concerts? Needless to say, I spent the first act on my toes, attempting to peer through heads and shoulders to see the stage. But the show was still fantastic! How could it not be in a theatre like this?
“The Merry Wives of Windsor” was absolutely wonderful and the acting was superb. And actually, for almost the whole performance I thought the actor playing Ford was John Cleese! I finally realized it wasn’t, but he was definitely channeling Basil Fawlty. Perhaps that’s why I enjoyed it so much. I definitely think it’s my new favorite Shakespearean comedy! (Hear that Dad? Maybe you should do “Merry Wives” at CC!)
After the show I made the short trip back to New Cross via tube and double-decker bus. I was quite tired after that long weekend of exploring, but by now I’m ready for round two! I just have to decide where to go next…there’s so much to see!
Yes, “pseudo-tourist.” Even though I live here, it’s only for a year, so I’m playing the tourist every now and then to see as much of this great city as I can. Two weekends ago, I went to the market at Portobello Road, wandered around Hyde Park, and took a walking tour of Southwark (pronounced “suthuk”) by the Thames. Here’s what happened.
Portobello Road Market:
My handy Lonely Planet city guide – which Kacey has so graciously lent me – considers Portobello Road to be the Londoner’s preferred market. Now that I’ve been I can see why, but I wholeheartedly disagree with their justification: that it is “less crowded…than Camden [another of the city’s large markets].” If this is true, then I shall NOT be going to Camden! Take a look at the seething mass of humanity that turned up to browse the antiques, a Saturday specialty:
Besides antiques, there was jewelry, artwork, various ethnic stuff, and produce. Everything's reasonably priced, too. That’s why I really had to restrain myself when I saw this stand:
Though it was tempting, I did not buy a horn. I did manage to find a few things at other, less…unique booths for Olivia’s birthday, however. Perhaps she is disappointed now that she knows what could have been. Alas…
One of the great things I’m discovering about London is – to put it in the vernacular – all the bits of history that pop up where and when you least expect them. In order to get to the market from the Notting Hill Gate tube stop I had to go quite a ways down Portobello Road. It was a lovely walk down a quaint little street, but the best part was happening upon a house with this sign:
How such a beautiful neighborhood could inspire such cynical, dystopian writing is a mystery. But to find historical sites like this around every corner is a delight for someone nerdy like me!
Hyde Park:
From Notting Hill I walked to Hyde Park to have a look around. My first stop was Marble Arch, at the western end of Oxford Street (the “Michigan Avenue” of London). From what I read on a nearby plaque, the monument was constructed in the 1820s to serve as the grand entrance to the newly rebuilt Buckingham Palace. But after further additions to the royal abode, it was moved to its present location in the 1850s. It is now the gateway to Speakers’ Corner, which these days seems to be more a testament to freedom of speech than a particularly useful forum for public speaking. Gone are the days when Marx and Orwell used to frequent the soapboxes there! In fact, the day I visited it was completely deserted.
Just outside Speakers’ Corner, there’s a large field that was full of Saturday loungers. They all seemed to have the same chairs, too, so I imagine you can rent them somewhere in the park.
After walking through the gate, I meandered through the park as the sun went down and took in the scenery. It was one of the most beautiful public spaces I’ve ever seen. Well, I suppose I’ve seen some more breathtaking public gardens, but Hyde Park’s charm lies in its simplicity. The rolling hills are covered with long, dry, and surprisingly soft grass. The trees are great hulking things, spaced far apart in orderly lines stretching across the fields. Fathers play football with their sons, university students sit under the trees and talk, and older women walk along the paths, trailed by their dogs which sniff the smells of the various dogs and squirrels that passed by before them. It is the very epitome of idyllic.
In the center of it all is the Serpentine, a manmade lake on which water birds swim and people boat. There seemed to be lots of families and couples touring around in rented paddleboats and rowboats that afternoon – and it was the perfect day for it! Sunny and warm; none of the usual “bloody English weather.” There were also lots of people feeding the ducks and rollerblading on the road that runs alongside the Serpentine. If only I lived closer to this marvelous place I would come all the time! It would be the most perfect reading place: peaceful, yet vibrant.
I would have explored the other half of the park – Kensington Gardens – had daylight allowed. Since I didn’t get that far, I will certainly be going back before winter comes!
Bards and Bawds in Southwark:
That Sunday, on a whim, I went to Shakespeare’s Globe in Bankside, Southwark, to see if I could buy a ticket to one of the last performances of the season. Their plays only run until the first week of October because it’s an open-air theatre. That may be hard to tell from this picture of the exterior, but here it is:
When I arrived at the box office, there was a “Sold Out” sign for that night’s performance of “The Merry Wives of Windsor.” I had neither seen nor read the play before, and I had, unfortunately, already got my heart set on attending, so I thought I might buy a ticket for following (and final) weekend instead. But that was sold out, too!
Luckily, there were a few “returned” tickets for that night’s performance. “But I’m afraid,” the man working in the booth said, hesitating, “they’re Yard Standing tickets.” It must have been my day, because that was exactly what I wanted: to pay a mere £5 for the privilege of experiencing Shakespeare as the unwashed masses once did – as groundlings packed in the yard, ready to cheer, jeer, and throw food at any rotten actors! Okay, so they don’t allow that anymore…but those are still the cheap “seats,” and supposedly the only real way to see a show at the Globe. I was so there.
Since I had almost four hours to pass until the gates opened, I decided to do the “Bards and Bawds in Southwark” tour in the book my mom and dad gave me before I left: Fodor’s 24 Great Walks in London. When I inspected the map, I realized I had inadvertently done the second half of the walk on my way from the London Bridge tube station to the Globe! So I started from where I was, walking the first half in reverse.
My first stop was the Ferryman’s Seat.
Tucked away in an alley and built into the side of a modern building, this artifact is apparently of “ancient origins.” (Whatever that means. No date was given.) According to the guidebook, it was “a convenient resting place for the Bankside watermen who ferried customers back and forth across the river from [that] spot.” Self-explanatory and perhaps a bit dull, I thought the Ferryman’s Seat was interesting nevertheless because it's one of those hidden “bits of history” that seem to be everywhere in London.
Next I came to the site of the original Globe Theatre, which burned down in 1613 during a performance of Henry VIII. As you can tell from the picture below, the space is now quite unremarkable. There are a few signs with a short history of the building and some decorative stones on the ground marking what used to be its outer edge, but it’s really just a cobblestone yard between apartment buildings.
Then there was the Cross Bones Graveyard. Unfortunately, I accidentally deleted the pictures I took here, but it was pretty neat. It’s basically just a fence, but the local community has taken it over and made it into a shrine covered with hundreds of ribbons and signs. That’s because behind the fence is a maintenance yard that belongs to Transport for London, which was built over an unconsecrated burial ground for prostitutes and debtors that dates back to the Middle Ages. Gruesome!
Another highlight was the Red Cross Garden, a lovely bit of green space that was set aside for the poor by a famous Southwark social reformer in the late 19th century. I also came across another small park with a very interesting back wall. According to the plaque mounted on it, the wall is all that remains of Marshalsea Prison, where Charles Dickens’s father was once imprisoned for debt.
Working my way back to the end of the route, I stopped in at the Southwark Cathedral and took the self-guided tour. From this I learned that the church has been there in some form since the Norman era, although the present building was constructed at intervals between 1106 and 1897. The majority of the architecture, however, is gothic, which dates to around the 14th century. Besides seeing some real gothic architecture (as opposed to Chicago), there were lots of interesting features inside, including a monument to Shakespeare and the tomb of John Gower, the father of English poetry.
Heading toward the Thames again, I passed the Clink Prison museum. Knowing that the Clink is one of the most notorious Medieval prisons, this stop sounded awesome, but I didn’t want to shell out the £££ to go inside. (Actually, it’s a lot cheaper than I thought it was at the time, so I might have to go back!) Next I passed the Golden Hinde, a reconstruction of the clipper captained by Sir Francis Drake on his voyage around the world. This isn’t the world’s greatest picture, but it’s one of the few I took on this trip that came out (I’ll get a new camera soon, I promise!):
Back toward Shakespeare’s Globe I came upon the final stop of the walk: a series of granite panels with carved scenes of a Frost Fair on the Thames. A nearby plaque explained that Frost Fairs took place between the 15th and 19th centuries, when the English climate was much colder than it is now. Old London Bridge slowed the Thames enough that the river would freeze completely during severe winters. As you can imagine, Londoners took full advantage of the situation and held lively fairs out on the ice!
Finally, three hours and three and a half miles later, I made it back to the Globe. By then I was famished, so I stopped in at a self-serve café chain called EAT for a bite and afterwards I milled around in the theatre’s gift shop until the gates opened for the show. Once inside, I staked out what I thought was the perfect spot at the very back of the yard, where I could lean against the wall (I was tired from all that walking!). As the yard filled up, though, I realized how stupid that strategy was. How could I forget that short women like me somehow always get stuck behind especially tall men at theatrical performances, movies, and concerts? Needless to say, I spent the first act on my toes, attempting to peer through heads and shoulders to see the stage. But the show was still fantastic! How could it not be in a theatre like this?
“The Merry Wives of Windsor” was absolutely wonderful and the acting was superb. And actually, for almost the whole performance I thought the actor playing Ford was John Cleese! I finally realized it wasn’t, but he was definitely channeling Basil Fawlty. Perhaps that’s why I enjoyed it so much. I definitely think it’s my new favorite Shakespearean comedy! (Hear that Dad? Maybe you should do “Merry Wives” at CC!)
After the show I made the short trip back to New Cross via tube and double-decker bus. I was quite tired after that long weekend of exploring, but by now I’m ready for round two! I just have to decide where to go next…there’s so much to see!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Catching Up, Part 1: The End of Freshers’ Week
My apologies for the delayed posts. As if to prove the point made in my last entry, the internet was out in Goldsmiths’ residence halls for more than two days early last week. (If this were UChicago the problem would have been fixed in mere hours, but alas…) Then when I was able to go online again I made up for lost time by sitting on Skype rather than blogging – but it was nice to hear a few voices from the other side of the pond! Oh, and I did some exploring too. Indeed, lots of things have happened since I last wrote, so this entry is going to be a bit long. But I’ll break it into two and write about my adventures in Notting Hill, Hyde Park, and Bankside at a later date. Here we go…
Home-y Touches:
Much of last week was spent trying to purchase the remaining items I needed to settle in to my flat. I have yet to find a truly Target-like store that has everything I might need in one place, so I did a lot of traveling around Lewisham and Southwark. Although it was a bit of a pain, I at least have a better understanding of the bus routes that run in and around New Cross.
I managed to find the ASDA when I took the bus Joelle suggested to me a few weeks ago (on my previous trip, I think I took one of the only buses that doesn’t pass by the place!). They had many of the things I was looking for, but it was actually more grocery store than Wal-Mart, so I had to go elsewhere for some household items. In particular, I was in search of a comforter and blanket so I wouldn’t have to bundle up to stay warm under just a sheet. (A side note here: unlike New England in the early fall, the weather in England has been quite chilly. There have been none of the 70- and 80-degree days that punctuate September’s gradual cooling back home. In fact, it’s been in the low 60s/upper 50s most days.)
Everything’s very expensive here, so I headed to the most famous of cheap home stores: IKEA. There are three IKEAs in the London area, but the one in Wembley is the most accessible. Still, it took me more than two hours to get there because Wembley is clear across the city from New Cross. If I had taken a different route it would have been more like an hour and fifteen minutes, but hey…now I know.
I didn’t buy much at IKEA because it was a long trip back on public transportation, but I did manage to find a comforter. Besides learning that taking the tube is infinitely faster than the bus, this trip also taught me that I need to brush up on my knowledge of the metric system. The Swedes – you gotta love ‘em – they just put measurements in centimeters on all the bedding packages rather than labeling them “twin,” “double,” etc. I imagine this is so they can use the same packaging throughout Europe without changing the language, but it makes it difficult for those of us more accustomed to the U.S. system to gauge whether a given comforter will fit on a smallish twin bed. 260 x 280 cm seemed a bit big to me, but I figured it’d be all right – they didn’t have any smaller sizes in the one I wanted anyway. So I brought it home, cut off the tag, and washed it. However, when I tried to spread it out on the bed…oh my. It seemed ENORMOUS! So I went online to check the conversion, then looked up the dimensions for different sizes of bedding to see where I went wrong. As you may have already guessed, I bought a king-sized comforter. Yes, king. (Feel free to laugh at this second of what will surely be many “stupid American” moments!) Luckily it fits on my bed folded in half lengthwise and turned down quite a bit. I think I might start carrying a conversion chart around with me in the future, though!
Another highlight of my many errands last week was finding a good deal - by London standards - on kitchenware at a discount store in Peckham (part of Southwark). It was exciting to finally have dishes and utensils with which to eat and a stockpot, sauté pan, and a few other gadgets with which to cook because until then I had been living off granola bars, clementines, and takeaways! Yet even though I can cook for myself at last, I’ve still made a lot of spaghetti and PB&J. (Hey, I am a student after all.) Hopefully I’ll be eating less of those kinds of things as I gradually stock up my pantry. In fact, over the past few days I've made a Chinese vegetable stir fry with noodles, quesadillas, and – mmmm – muskachola! Now I’ve got lots of leftovers, so I’ll be eating well for the next few days.
While I’m on the subject of the kitchen, here is a picture of it, as promised. Nothing fancy, but it'll do for the next 12 months. The seating area is off to the right.
Oh, and we’ve also got a little grey mouse that lives behind the fridge! My flatmates and I notified pest control, so our uninvited guest should be dealt with in the next few days. Then again, knowing the pace at which things are accomplished around here...
Anthropology Day:
September 25th was the big day as far as my Freshers’ Week activities were concerned. I had an induction meeting for MA Visual Anthropology Students, a lecture introducing anthropological theory and methods, and a welcome party for the anthropology department to go to. It was a long day, but it definitely got me pumped to begin the course.
At the induction meeting we met a few of the professors we’ll have, including Stephen Nugent and Ricardo Leizaola, and our tutor, Chris Wright. We were also given the departmental handbook and fall schedule – all 24 of us will be taking the same classes throughout the year, though a few students are part time. The classes are Critique, Theory and Representation; Anthropology of Art I; Video Production; and Ethnographic Film. The first two are one-hour lectures followed by two one-hour seminars (only one of which we attend, depending on our seminar group). Video Production is a rather long practicum with lots of hands-on work, and Ethnographic Film is a three-hour class which includes lecture, screening, and seminar. I will certainly have my work cut out for me this fall!
The introductory lecture I attended later that day was definitely not what I expected, nor did I think it was particularly useful. I figured it would be a good opportunity to brush up on my anthropological knowledge (you know, separating the Structuralists from the Post-Structuralists and so on), even though it was mostly intended for students who were coming into the department with little or no background in anthropology. As it turned out, the “lecture” was a very informal panel of three PhD students who discussed their fieldwork and explained why it was anthropological. Perhaps I was just spoiled by UChicago, but I feel like I have that territory covered. At least it was interesting to hear what some of the more advanced post-grads at Goldsmiths are up to.
After the lecture came the welcome party, which was held in the garden behind the anthropology offices. As many of you know, I’m not really a party person, so I don’t have much to say about this particular event. All in all, it was rather cramped, but the nice weather made it tolerable being squished up in the tiny yard with my fellow students and our professors. Plus there was wine and McVities chocolate biscuits and I got to meet a few other students in my course, so it wasn't a total bust. Actually, it was a rather pleasant end both to my “Anthropology Day” and Freshers’ Week as a whole.
Home-y Touches:
Much of last week was spent trying to purchase the remaining items I needed to settle in to my flat. I have yet to find a truly Target-like store that has everything I might need in one place, so I did a lot of traveling around Lewisham and Southwark. Although it was a bit of a pain, I at least have a better understanding of the bus routes that run in and around New Cross.
I managed to find the ASDA when I took the bus Joelle suggested to me a few weeks ago (on my previous trip, I think I took one of the only buses that doesn’t pass by the place!). They had many of the things I was looking for, but it was actually more grocery store than Wal-Mart, so I had to go elsewhere for some household items. In particular, I was in search of a comforter and blanket so I wouldn’t have to bundle up to stay warm under just a sheet. (A side note here: unlike New England in the early fall, the weather in England has been quite chilly. There have been none of the 70- and 80-degree days that punctuate September’s gradual cooling back home. In fact, it’s been in the low 60s/upper 50s most days.)
Everything’s very expensive here, so I headed to the most famous of cheap home stores: IKEA. There are three IKEAs in the London area, but the one in Wembley is the most accessible. Still, it took me more than two hours to get there because Wembley is clear across the city from New Cross. If I had taken a different route it would have been more like an hour and fifteen minutes, but hey…now I know.
I didn’t buy much at IKEA because it was a long trip back on public transportation, but I did manage to find a comforter. Besides learning that taking the tube is infinitely faster than the bus, this trip also taught me that I need to brush up on my knowledge of the metric system. The Swedes – you gotta love ‘em – they just put measurements in centimeters on all the bedding packages rather than labeling them “twin,” “double,” etc. I imagine this is so they can use the same packaging throughout Europe without changing the language, but it makes it difficult for those of us more accustomed to the U.S. system to gauge whether a given comforter will fit on a smallish twin bed. 260 x 280 cm seemed a bit big to me, but I figured it’d be all right – they didn’t have any smaller sizes in the one I wanted anyway. So I brought it home, cut off the tag, and washed it. However, when I tried to spread it out on the bed…oh my. It seemed ENORMOUS! So I went online to check the conversion, then looked up the dimensions for different sizes of bedding to see where I went wrong. As you may have already guessed, I bought a king-sized comforter. Yes, king. (Feel free to laugh at this second of what will surely be many “stupid American” moments!) Luckily it fits on my bed folded in half lengthwise and turned down quite a bit. I think I might start carrying a conversion chart around with me in the future, though!
Another highlight of my many errands last week was finding a good deal - by London standards - on kitchenware at a discount store in Peckham (part of Southwark). It was exciting to finally have dishes and utensils with which to eat and a stockpot, sauté pan, and a few other gadgets with which to cook because until then I had been living off granola bars, clementines, and takeaways! Yet even though I can cook for myself at last, I’ve still made a lot of spaghetti and PB&J. (Hey, I am a student after all.) Hopefully I’ll be eating less of those kinds of things as I gradually stock up my pantry. In fact, over the past few days I've made a Chinese vegetable stir fry with noodles, quesadillas, and – mmmm – muskachola! Now I’ve got lots of leftovers, so I’ll be eating well for the next few days.
While I’m on the subject of the kitchen, here is a picture of it, as promised. Nothing fancy, but it'll do for the next 12 months. The seating area is off to the right.
Oh, and we’ve also got a little grey mouse that lives behind the fridge! My flatmates and I notified pest control, so our uninvited guest should be dealt with in the next few days. Then again, knowing the pace at which things are accomplished around here...
Anthropology Day:
September 25th was the big day as far as my Freshers’ Week activities were concerned. I had an induction meeting for MA Visual Anthropology Students, a lecture introducing anthropological theory and methods, and a welcome party for the anthropology department to go to. It was a long day, but it definitely got me pumped to begin the course.
At the induction meeting we met a few of the professors we’ll have, including Stephen Nugent and Ricardo Leizaola, and our tutor, Chris Wright. We were also given the departmental handbook and fall schedule – all 24 of us will be taking the same classes throughout the year, though a few students are part time. The classes are Critique, Theory and Representation; Anthropology of Art I; Video Production; and Ethnographic Film. The first two are one-hour lectures followed by two one-hour seminars (only one of which we attend, depending on our seminar group). Video Production is a rather long practicum with lots of hands-on work, and Ethnographic Film is a three-hour class which includes lecture, screening, and seminar. I will certainly have my work cut out for me this fall!
The introductory lecture I attended later that day was definitely not what I expected, nor did I think it was particularly useful. I figured it would be a good opportunity to brush up on my anthropological knowledge (you know, separating the Structuralists from the Post-Structuralists and so on), even though it was mostly intended for students who were coming into the department with little or no background in anthropology. As it turned out, the “lecture” was a very informal panel of three PhD students who discussed their fieldwork and explained why it was anthropological. Perhaps I was just spoiled by UChicago, but I feel like I have that territory covered. At least it was interesting to hear what some of the more advanced post-grads at Goldsmiths are up to.
After the lecture came the welcome party, which was held in the garden behind the anthropology offices. As many of you know, I’m not really a party person, so I don’t have much to say about this particular event. All in all, it was rather cramped, but the nice weather made it tolerable being squished up in the tiny yard with my fellow students and our professors. Plus there was wine and McVities chocolate biscuits and I got to meet a few other students in my course, so it wasn't a total bust. Actually, it was a rather pleasant end both to my “Anthropology Day” and Freshers’ Week as a whole.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
