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A Convoluted Return Home from the UK to Spain to the USA

Jan27

Sunday, January 25, 2015
London-Madrid-New York

 Having set my alarm for 5.00 am (for a 5. 30 am departure), I found myself waking up automatically at 4. 45 am with plenty of time to wash, dress, do last-minute packing and leave. Chris and the cab driver were on schedule and we were off for Heathrow airport while St. John’s Wood and Swiss Cottage were comatose. Through the sleeping streets we sped past Chiswick to arrive at Heathrow at 6.15 am where I checked in immediately, received my boarding passes, had my bags tagged but was told to return at 8. 3o am to check them in as the counter only opened 3 hours before departure.
       It was a good time to get into Carluccio’s to buy myself a hot chocolate and a plain croissant which I enjoyed with butter and their signature fig jam as I awaited 8. 30 am and the arrival of my friends Bash and Kim who were scheduled to come to the airport to spend a couple of hours with me as they live nearby. As it turned out, my brother Roger had arrived at Heathrow on duty last evening and it was with him on the phone that I passed time while waiting for my friends. They did turn up at 8. 30 am when we went straight to Café Nero to get mocha lattes and to catch up. It was great to see Kim on her feet (sciatica had kept her away from our trip to Oxford) and for the next couple of hours, we had a lovely time together.
        Then, if you can believe it, I boarded my flight to go from London to the USA but for some inexplicable reason, via Madrid in Spain! The flight run by Iberia was in a very small plane but it made good time and gave me a chance to catch up on my journal. Skies were clear over Portugal and Spain and views from my window showed me snow-struck mountains and fallow fields. Soon we were descending into Madrid where I had to change terminals to get my international flight to the US. I had no time to grab a sandwich (I could have murdered for one with Spain’s manchego cheese and serrano ham!), but in no time at all, I was in my plane (another small one with none of the lovely British Airways in-flight entertainment) and just when I wondered what I would do for the next 9 hours during daylight, I was grateful for my laptop that would allow me to pass time through writing and for the Woman and Home magazine that I had bought at Heathrow airport. My seat had a charger plug point which permitted me to listen to music on my I-Phone and hammer away on my laptop and with a window seat on a very light flight, I was up and airborne and ready to make the most of the last lap of my holiday.
       It had been a blast! In one week in London, I had done favorite old things (the National Gallery and the Guildhall Art Gallery, for instance) and discovered new ones (tours of the Royal Courts of Justice, Highgate Cemetery). I had seen one play (Di and Viv and Rose) at the West End and one really brilliant TV show (Wolf Hall). I had been invited to a very special lunch in a very special place (Morden College in Blackheath), Afternoon Tea with the NYU Dean’s Circle in a fancy hotel—The Montague on the Gardens  in Bloomsbury—and had a lovely farewell pub dinner of fish and chips at the Old Bank of England pub on Fleet Street where Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street had apparently murdered many an innocent client.
I had found some really good buys at really great prices (a Barbour quilted jacket for myself, plum puddings at Harrods, vast supplies of my favorite tea, biscuits, cereal, soup). I had combined some work by meeting with my Dean and the students he had brought to London plus many of our administrative staff members with a great deal of play, long walks and longer bus rides on days that were frightfully cold even when the sun shone.
       I had heard Mass at favorite churches—St. Etheldreda’s in Holborn and at Westminster Cathedral. I went to very unusual museums of which even Londoners haven’t heard (The Old Operating Theater in Southwark and the Linely-Sambourne House in tony Kensington) and discovered new lines of perfume by my favorite perfumier (Jo Malone in her new line called Jo Loves) on Elizabeth Street. I made one daytrip to another one of my favorite places on earth—the university city of Oxford—to which I introduced Raquel.
        But, above all, I had met and reconnected with dear English friends who mean so much to me (Tim and Barbara, Rosemary (Roz), Loulou and Paul, Michael and Cynthia and Susan in Oxford), Indian ones (Murali, Michelle and Reshma, Bash and Kim) and American ones (Mahnaz. Raquel and Chris) who make my stays in London ever so special by invitations to lunch or dinner either in their homes or restaurants. In the final analysis, although I adore London in every season and despite every affliction that is thrown my way (this time it was a persistent cold and an aching throat), ultimately, it is the people I know and love in this country that make it all worthwhile for me.
        Thank you for following me on my adventures and for being my companion through thick and thin. I hope you enjoyed armchair traveling with me as much as I enjoyed actually making the trips, for, remember as the philosopher said, it is not the destination that matters but the journey. I am grateful that you were a part of mine.
       Until the next time when I leave my usual abode in Southport and return to my Roost, I say cheerio! 

Today Was all About Therapy–Retail Therapy!

Jan20

Monday, January 19, 2015

London

Jetlag still has control over my life; but when it paid a 3. 15 am Wake-Up Call, it was decidedly better than the previous night’s–2. 15 am. I used time creatively once again to update my blog and scour the Web for suggestions on What To Do. My trusted guides for Secret London and Key to London’s Secrets were insistent about a visit to the West side of Highgate Cemetery and having Been There but Done Only The East Side, a few years ago, I was happy to comply. Accordingly, I went online, scored a ticket for the guided tour beginning at 1. 45 today and given by Friends of Highgate Cemetery (as the West side, supposedly the far more interesting one) is only open to visitors on guided tours.

Then, my young friend Jonas, all of seven years, made a 6.00 am appearance in my room, climbed into my bed and promptly suggested we watch cartoons on the giant Apple TV in my room. And thus it was that I became introduced to Scooby-Doo and his friends! All fun cam to an end when his mother walked into our room and shook her head at him disapprovingly. I am afraid I might not be asked to stay again if I deprive her son of his beauty sleep. Uh-Oh!!!

So while he showered and breakfasted, I jumped into the shower myself and at 8. a00, we were out the door, escorting him along Abbey Road to the American School London where he is in second grade. As he ran along, I took the bus to Finchley Road to the giant Waitrose there to buy my favorite year’s-worth of favorite groceries (did you know Waitrose Darjeeling teabags–not available in the USA where they have never heard of Darjeeling–and it is doubtful they have heard of tea–are much cheaper than Twinnings’s Darjeeling and just as good?). I bought myself an almond croissant and sipped a latte as I roamed through the aisles (please Waitrose, if you can be in Dubai, why can’t you be in New York?), then took the Tube at Finchely Road back home for two stops.

When my groceries were safely deposited back home, I had my second breakfast: Waitrose’s Fruit and Nut Muesli with Honey-Vanilla Yoghurt and the,n in half an hour, I was out the door myself and ready to hit the sales.

Disappointments Galore at Posh Stores:

Only I had arrived in London too late this year, you see–all so-called post-Christmas sales ended on Saturday evening, it appears. Arriving at Green Park station, I strode past the Ritz and into Fortnum’s hoping to find some of its famed goodies on sale–only to find Nothing. And I mean Nada. As a 14 came sailing down Picaadilly, on I hopped thinking Harrods has never let me down. But when I inquired inside, Madam was icily informed that the sale ended two days ago! Darn and Blast! Still, I bet there was some dregs still to be had. Somewhat inspired, I asked for the Souvenir section–and as I rode the escalators past all the heads of Nefertiti smiling down on me and spying the new sculpture of Diana and Dodi and the soaring seagull in the basement, provocatively entitled “Innocent Victims” , I arrived at the third floor where my eyes alighted on Christmas Pudding–not just any pudding, mind you, but luxury ones sold in the signature Harrod’s ceramic pudding bowls. Yes!!!! They were heavy as sin and would be a pain to haul across the pond, but still. It had not been a worthless journey.

Finally! On Carnaby Street:

Back on the Tube , I headed for Soho and the arching signs of Carnaby Street which I had never seen–because I had never been there! Off at Oxford Circus on a particularly chilly day, I was grateful for my layers of cashmere, when my eyes alighted on Liberty of London–another iconic store famed for its pretty cotton printed fabrics and its Tudor design. Well, although I had intentions to buy nothing, how could I resist? It was worth the thrill alone of riding in those linen-fold wooden pannelled lifts alone. So off I sped to the top floor where the last remnant items of their sale are still on display. Slim pickin’s, everywhere, I thought, disappointedly.

A few minutes later, I was striding out the chocolate shop and right on to Carnaby Street and there they were–those arched signed soaring high above the street and saying Welcome to Carnaby Street. I had a wander all the while becoming increasingly aware of the weight on my shoulders for en route, I had also found a Boots pharmacy from where I cleaned out a sale on Dove Silken Glow Body Wash–perhaps the best buy ever in toiletries and the only hand soap you will ever find in our bathrooms back home. With its sophisticated French perfume you might think you had paid a small fortune each time you squirt a bit on your palm. You would be wrong. One Mission Well Accomplished!

More Disappointments in Store:

The idea was to deposit my loaded sack back home on Abbey Road and find transport to Highgate for my 1. 45 pm tour. But although the spirit was willing, the flesh succumbed to jetlag; and still cold-clogged, sleep-deprived me felt a bit light-headed as I left my flat to try to find my way there. Not being so familiar with North London and the network of Tubes and buses there, I made some terrible mistakes as I followed maps (no GPS on my internet once I step out of the house, remember?) and before I knew it, I was at Swiss Cottage trying to find a cab to get me there on time. No such luck! Not a cab was in sight as I trudged along and bus drivers are nowhere as helpful as they once used to be–they seemed never to have heard of Highgate Cemetery and certainly did not know how to point me in the next direction. I was tired and sleepy and frustrated and knew I could not get there on time. It was time for Plan B.

More Retail Therapy on Elizabeth Street:

I had stopped to fix myself a sandwich when home and it was on a Green Park bench back in the city, watched by crafty pigeons and craftier squirrels, that I ate it and gave myself a bit of a rest. Then, I was on the Tube again and headed to Sloan Square and Elizabeth Street to indulge in a treat for which I had waited a very long time–15 months to be precise: being introduced to Jo Loves, the new avatar of my favorite perfumier, Jo Malone. She opened her one and only store exactly one month after I last left  London the last time and the Number One item on my agenda was a visit to her store for an introduction to her new line.

In the able hands of Michael, I had my skin painted with brushes laden with body creme. Strips of card were sprayed with her new works of sensual art: Pomelo, Green Orange and Coriander, A Shot of Sweet Peas, Pink Vetiver (my favorite), A Shot of Thai Lime over Mango. Ceramic Tagines gave me the experience of stepping into a fragrant steaming bath–Jo calls it caviar for the bath tube. Being the expert marketer she is, she would. They went on and on. Inspired by her travels (in Thailand, in New York and by the store next-door, a florist, where she had begun her working life in retail), Michael did a competent job enticing me. I had thought, knowing “Jo” as if she were my best friend or sister, I would absolutely adore them all. But nothing of the sort happened and but for two, I was left not too enthused. Perhaps it will take my nose and my psyche a while to make the transition. We shall see. I was presented with sample strips although no real sample phials were given, and off I went down Elizabeth Street which on a less freezing day would, no doubt, offer more enticements.

Off to King’s Cross:

It was time to touch base with my friend Rosemary whom I know as Roz who was meeting me at King’s Cross for our evening together. The Victoria Line took me directly to the spot she suggested: the Square in front of the station near the Henry Moore sculpture (added recently). I was early, I needed the loo, I decided to wander into the  newly-refurbished Renaissance  Hotel to see the spectacular stairway that a fond long-time Londoner claimed was his favorite place in the entire city (I can’t remember who). Thank you dear Sir John Betjeman for saving this gorgeous building from destruction. It has, despite all restrictions, been artfully converted into a modern hotel. Today, its corridors gleam, its Gothic windows offer views of a busy street that sees hordes spilling out by the minute and bars galore, named suitably The Gilbert Scott (the original Victorian architect) and The Betjeman Arms (after the 20th century poet who saved it) allow the passer-by to enjoy a drink and a sit-down. I used the lovely loo, as intended, before making my way to the square where, five minutes later, I had a lovely reunion with Roz just off work.

Laser Lights Festival at Canary Wharf–Not!!!

It was time for a warming cup of tea in the station concourse and before long, we were catching up at Leon over steaming paper glasses–why has London succumbed to such trashy New York ways? Where are the civilized ceramic pots of tea that you could only find in the UK when you ordered tea please? So many changes and some not quite appealing enough!

Then, we were on the Tube headed to Canary Wharf. Roz had been justifiably doubtful about the Lights Show that the Visit Britain tweet had recommended throughout the month of January. But I was the foreigner and she was indulgent. Canary Wharf was not her favorite place, but there were lights and  there was a Carluccio’s, so why not, she said???

Only there really wasn’t very much to impress. Trees still sport their ice-blue strings of lights but I suspect those have been left over since Christmas. That said, if there were lights were wanted, there were thousands–from the soaring skyscrapers that formed a concrete well-illuminated city. In the park nearby, whose ingeniously-designed gushing fountains sported a few floating discs of light that changed color cutely by the minute, there were some lights.  But the laser projections on the building walls and on the river that I had expected were nowhere in sight.

Dinner Time at Carluccio’s:

It was time for some serious eating to compensate for our disappointment and Carluccio’s never disappoints (why Mr. Carluccio, do you not leap over the Atlantic and come to America?). We chose the Primi and Secondi specials for 10.99 pounds each–the kind of deal you can never dream of finding in America. And how well we chose too! We had two starters of caponata that were served bruschetta-style over warmed goat’s cheese and toast points to be laden with chicken pate and the most divine caramelized oinions. Over glasses of red wine, we had ourselves a most decadent first course and being the conscious, careful eaters we are (we talked mostly about food after we had discussed family and work doings!), we seriously wondered whether we could do justice to our mains: polenta with slow-cooked beef ragu poured all over it (delicioso!) and al dente served penne pasta with spicy Italian sausage. Predictably, we enjoyed both courses immensely but could only pick. Needless to say, we skipped on the dolci (my favorite course, always foregone, sadly) and then we were out of the maze that is the malls and the corporate offices and on the Jubilee Line headed home.

I was exhausted and 10.00 pm when I put key through door (I had hopped off at Baker Street and switched to a bus that dropped me right opposite my building instead of having to walk from the Tube station down Grove End Road), it was all I could do to greet my hosts (little Jonas was already in bed) and crash.

Retail Therapy had provided little solace but meeting my friend and catching up with her is always a pleasure and it somewhat made up for the cold, the lack of goodies to take back home and the fact of getting hopelessly lost in trying to find Highgate. The only silver lining was that the clerk at the cemetery had sympathized with my situation and, through a phone call, offered me the tour tomorrow.

Until then, cheerio!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

London! I Am In You Again!

Jan18

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Abbey Road, London:

      I am back! Yes, I am here again! Exactly 16 months after I departed, this, my favorite city in the world, I have returned like the proverbial bad penny in the late and very dark hours while a chill draped the city like a shroud. I am older, hopefully a bit wiser, and a lot fonder of this capital than I ought to be.

      Apart from my baggage, I came towing the last vestiges of a full-blown cold (thanks to Bombay’s air pollution) and the remnants of a heightened temperature. Drugged on paracetamol, I stood the journey quite stoically and marveled that my lowered energy levels had climbed enough to enable me to haul baggage about like a pro. A wintry welcome could not dampen my enthusiasm as I strode gamely out of Terminal 5 and followed signs to WH Smith to claim my free Lebara SIM card. Only while every second ad on the British Airways In-Flight Entertainment channel had urged me to pick up my FREE SIM card from the bookstore in the Terminal before leaving, it did not inform me that I needed to request the cabin crew to hand me a free voucher that I would then hand over to the sales clerk to claim my free card. So irritating! Still, I paid the princely sum of 99p for my card, then loaded it with 10 pounds worth of calling time and off I went in search of the Underground. I wasn’t going to allow this little annoyance to tamper with my elation even if the weather was reportedly pretty damp outside.

      I need not have worried about hauling heavy baggage through the Terminal and on to the Underground train. What an easy connection they have created from Terminal 5 to public transport that whizzes you downtown–sorry, but I’m speaking American from force of habit–I meant to the City Center (or is that Euro-speak?). Anyway, I re-loaded my Oyster card with unlimited rides in Zones 1 and 2 for the next one week and I was off and away. The Piccadilly Line Tube was empty, but for airport passengers till about Hammersmith when the Saturday night hordes thronged the cars.     
     I alighted at Green Park, found an elevator that sped me to the Jubilee Line connection. One long tunnel to cross (not such a tough task) and I was in another elevator and ready to board the train for another three stops to St. John’s Wood from where I hopped into a taxi that practically pulled up as I emerged from the station and dropped me at my doorstep. It couldn’t have been an easier journey.

      London is cold but I was happy to be out in the fresh air after 9 plus hours in a steel tube 38,000 feet about mean sea level. Although, mind you, I spent the time without feeling the slightest bit sleepy and watched four great films in-flight: My Old Lady (with Maggie Smith, Kristin-Scott Thomas and Kevin Kine, set in Paris–how can you go wrong?), The Rewrite (with Hugh Grant and Marissa Tomei–a chicflic that is redeemed only by the very watchable Grant and the always delightful Tomei), The Riot Club (set in Oxford, another favorite city in the world, and based on the play Posh). It was powerful, chilling and deeply disturbing and a true must-see. And finally, I watched A Most Wanted Man with Phillip Seymour Hoffman–didn’t get to the end as it was time to alight, but it was riveting.

      My friends Raquel and Chris and their darling son Jonas gave me a warm welcome and over hot lemony tea, we caught up briefly. Adrenaline kept doing its thing–and I remained awake and alert although I thought I would be in Zombie Land as it was 2.00 am back in India. I kept thinking how fortunate I was to have found a home again in this grand and very gorgeous Victorian apartment with its spacious rooms and very English detailing. Located at the most famous crosswalk in the world on Abbey Road, I had spent part of a summer here once expecting to see John, Paul, George and Ringo stride across every time I popped onto the balcony that overlooks this spot right across historic Abbey Studios.

     I got connected with wifi, informed folks around the world that I had arrived safely and prepared for the morrow. Despite falling asleep at 10.00 pm and having, as I mentioned no sleep en route, I was wide awake at 2. 30 am (8.00 am in Bombay from where I have travelled). Adrenaline is a powerful thing!

      Until Tomorrow which promises to be fun-filled and eventful… cheerio All and thanks for following my Blog once again!   

Back in the USA–Final Day in Los Angeles

Jul10

Monday, July 6, 2014

En Route Home: Shanghai-Los Angeles

We organized a taxi and were up and away, the next morning and flew from Pudong to Los Angeles—a 13 hour flight that surprisingly went quickly as we watched The Wolf of Wall Street and All is Lost (both of which we enjoyed immensely).

 Last Day in Los Angeles:     

In Los Angeles, we checked into the Radisson Airport hotel which was just 5 minutes away. The free shuttle bus dropped us off there and we tried hard to catch a much-needed nap before Chriselle arrived to spend the day with us. Alas, neither one of us could fall asleep easily.

            An hour later, she was with us. We dressed and she drove us to the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena as we thought we’d have enough energy to take it in. However, I have to say that although its collection is superb, 45 minutes into our visit, I was staggering with jetlag and had to call a halt to it.

            Chriselle then drove us to her place where we had a fabulous reunion with her dogs, Ferris and Herky and then fell fast asleep for a couple of hours. Robert got home at 7. 30 when we dressed again and got ready for our dinner appointment and an early birthday celebration for me at Osteria Mozza, Mario Battali’s restaurant in Los Angeles. We had ourselves a truly amazing meal with a sampler of mozzarella and buratta cheese, a lovely Valipocelli red wine, lamb chops, goat-cheese filled ravioli, spaghetti with sea urchin and hangar steak—not to mention the amazing desserts of Nancy Silverton whose cioccolato (a dense chocolate cake) and almond tart were the final touches of gastronomic greatness that ended our evening and indeed our holiday.

            Robert and Chriselle dropped us back to the Radisson Hotel for a good night’s sleep before our early morning flight, the next morning, on American Airlines, and then it was all over. We were finally home at Southport at about 11 pm after I had spent my entire birthday airborne.    

 Conclusion:

            Our travels had come to an end—and exciting though they were, it was not a moment too soon. Both Llew and I were footsore and exhausted and although we had been deeply enlightened and fascinated by the Far East, we had probably bitten off more than we could chew. We were ready to sleep in our own bed and bathe in our own bath tub again.  

                

Breathless But Blissful Last Day in London

Aug13


Saturday, August 10, 2013
London
Breathless But Blissful Last Day in London
            And so it arrived finally—as all good things must—the end, that is, of my near-perfect month in London. On the one hand, as I look back, it seems to have flown in a heartbeat. And, yet, on the other, when I consider how much I crammed into 30 days, it seems as if I have spent a lifetime here.
            Alas, the clock chimes of St. Paul’s failed to wake me up at the crack of dawn—7. 30 am was more like it. I used the time whilst the rest of the household snoozed, to pack my bags carefully. By 9 am, Cynthia was up and preparing breakfast—we had cold cereal (muesli), lovely toast made with fig and hazelnut bread, marmalade and tea, and then I continued doing the odds and ends that must be accomplished in preparation for a long flight across the pond. By the end of the day, even I am shocked by the ground I covered and the astute management of time that permitted me to complete almost all of the items on my To-Do List–not just for the day but indeed for the trip.
Quick Nip into the Tate Modern Museum:
            By 11. 30 am, with my packing under control and my mind in a relatively peaceful state, I crossed Wobbly Bridge on foot and headed to the Tate Modern Gallery. It was the one major museum I had not yet peeked into—I was keen to see the Roy Lichtenstein canvas called Wham that introduced the techniques of comic books into contemporary art. Alas, I was informed that the Lichtenstein exhibition had ended two weeks ago and the canvas was no longer on display. Fortunately, I had seen it many years ago—so I felt less badly about missing the opportunity.
            Since I was in the Tate, I took a round of its newest installations and then made my way up to the 3rdfloor—the café level—for stunning views across the Thames to the dome and spires of St. Paul’s. It is astonishing how much London’s skyline has changed since I lived in it. Then, only the Gherkin had dominated the landscape—today, there is the towering Shard and still in a state of construction, the Cheese Grater and the Walkie-Talkie! Ever imaginative, Londoners are perceiving these new icons with their characteristic dry humor.
            Although my visit was short, it was lovely to take in old favorites—the Picassos and Miros, the Braques and the Legers. But time was running fast and I had much catching up to do…
    
An Errand at the Globe Theatre:
            My next port of call was next door at Shakespeare’s beautiful Globe Theater that I had also not visited during my entire extended stay. A desire to carry back home some brochures proclaiming the offerings of the new Sam Wannamaker Theater for my colleague Karen who will be teaching a course to coincide with the 450th anniversary of the publication of the First Folio, I stepped into the lobby where Tours of the Theater commence. With my brochures safe in hand, I sauntered into the shop and was much humored by the witty aprons, oven mitts, note pads, coasters, key chains, etc. that bear Shakespearean quotes. I did not buy anything, however, and with my errand accomplished, I crossed Wobbly Bridge again, fighting hordes at every step before returning to Amen Court for a quick chicken sandwich lunch.
Time to Say Goodbye:
            Cynthia and Michael, mine hosts, were off to the famed Glyndebourne Festival—a major musical event–and I waited until they left at 1.00 pm, so as to bid them goodbye. They were not expected back home until past midnight, by which time I would be fast asleep. I did not expect to burst into tears as I hugged and thanked them; but sob I did! This foursome (which includes their sons) is like my family in London and I always get tearful when leaving them; but this time, my departure was made more poignant by the fact that I will never live with them in this glorious Christopher Wren home again as they will be moving shortly into a much more compact space where they will no longer be able to offer me the luxury of a room of my own with a separate bath. Although I know that I will see them again, the thought that it will be in a different location and in different circumstances, made me very nostalgic indeed for the many stays I have enjoyed in their warm, loving and hospitable home.
     
Off to Paddington:
            With Cynthia and Michael gone and my last day in London yawning gapingly ahead of me, I was delighted that their lawyer son Edward, who had a free Saturday at his disposal, volunteered to keep me company by spending the day in whatever way I wished. Thrilled to have his company, I mentally reorganized my day and off we went.
            Our first errand was in Paddington at Sussex Gardens, just near the famous St. Mary’s Hospital where Prince George was born three weeks ago. I had meant to present a small gift to my friend Bande Hassan at dinner last night. But I had clean forgotten to carry the present with me. I promised him that I would drop it off with his concierge and that was what Edward and I first did on having taken the Tube to Paddington.  Ten minutes later, we were dropping the bag off and leaving his building and looking for transport to take us our next location.
Antiquing on Portobello Road:
            Well, for a lover of antiques and vintage bricabrac, I suppose it is sacrilegious to spend an entire month in London and not find the time to browse amongst the Saturday morning stalls on Portobello Road. So, wanting to tick that box too, we took a bus to Notting Hill and began the long and painfully slow walk to the spot where the make-shift Saturday market sprouts up. It has been my recent unfailing experience that nothing but garbage is now to be found on the streets—cheap Chinese remakes of famous English porcelain patterns (the Redoute roses for instance on bone china mugs). Anything halfway decent is now in the shops that line both sides of the street but with much heavier price tags. There is plenty of “hotel silver” to be found now, mainly in the form of teapots, creamers and sugars and numerous salt and pepper shakers. But there wasn’t anything really portable and after a quick circle around the stalls, we retraced our steps and disappeared down the Tube stairwell at Notting Hill.
Whee! The Exciting Emirates Cable Car Ride!
            The Central (Red) Line took us directly to Stratford which was virtually the end of the line. This was the area that had buzzed last year at this time during the Olympic Games, From the Tube platform, we followed signs to the DLR (Dockland Light Railway) with the idea of getting off at Royal Victoria. About ten minutes later, we were able to see the capsules of the Cable Car and another ten minutes later, we had tickets in hand for the very pricey cost of 3. 20 pounds! Indeed, it was a steal and our excitement mounted as we mounted the platform to the embarkation area for a ride on the Emirates Air Line as the Cable Car Ride is called.
            Named for its sponsor, Emirates Airlines of Dubai, this newest London attraction (that is fast rivaling the Shard and the London Eye because it is so reasonably priced) has loads of offer. Not just is the cable car ride thrilling, soaring—as it does—high above the Thames, but its proximity to the Millennium Dome (the O2) on the other side, means one can then explore that exciting venue with its restaurants, cinemas, games arcades, etc. and its own newest attraction—the ability to scour the curve of it on the outside. Furthermore, the Cable Car ride offers fantastic views—from the Anish Kapoor sculpture in the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park near Stratford to the Thames Flood Barrier, from the towering heights of Canary Wharf to the bend in the Thames as it snakes towards the sea–you can take it all in. And it is deeply exciting! Very similar to the ski lift rides that are common at skiing resorts all over the world, the capsules move slowly to allow boarding and disembarkation. Ten people can be accommodated in as single capsule, so one is often clubbed in with a bunch of strangers, but it can be a very amusing experience overall. Edward and I enjoyed it enormously and would heartily recommend it to visitors to the capital.
            Upon disembarking, we walked towards the Millennium Dome and the Jubilee Line Tube Station at North Greenwich and twenty minutes later, we were at London Bridge to see another one of London’s new attractions, up close and personal, the Shard.
Circumnavigating the Shard:
            The reason the Shard is not as popular as it was predicted to be was its sky-high ticket to the Observation Deck. It is supposedly Europe’s tallest building, although even an assessment of its height from its base does not quite impress. It is a very interesting architectural design and chances are the top will always appear unfinished; but with the 30 pound ticket cost to ascend its dizzying heights, it is unlikely there will be many takers.
            I wasn’t interested in reaching the top—all I wanted to do was walk in its base and to circumnavigate its environs. This turned out to be far from impressive too. Indeed, there is really nothing much about which the Shard can boast—other than its height. Still, I was content that I ticked off yet another item on my Visit Wish List.
A Walk in Southwark and the South Bank:
            Realizing that we were very close to Southwark Cathedral, we decided to stroll along the South Bank of the Thames to take in its Saturday evening energy. Since Borough Market was wide open, in we went looking for end-of-business-day samples (or what the British call ‘tasters’) but there was nothing to be found as salesmen washed out their platforms and packed up for the day. Past Vinopolis we went and The Anchor pub and on past the many eateries that have mushroomed quay-side. We crossed Wobbly Bridge again and looking for sustenance, entered Le Pain Quotidien opposite St. Paul’s Cathedral where we sipped Americanos and hot chocolate and enjoyed pavlovas and chocolate tarts as we both badly needed a sit-down.
A Walk at the Inns of Courts at Chancery:
            Edward excused himself at this point, as he had an errand to run in Vauxhall. We decided to meet up again for dinner at Carluccio’s at Smithfield Market and off we went on the Tube.
            I took a bus down Fleet Street and got off at Chancery Lane in order to begin the last of my DK Eyewitness Guide tours as are to be found in the book. The walking tour wound through the back of the Royal Courts of Justice with their brick and granite work. I noticed, for the first time perched high on the corner of a building, the sculpture of Sir (and Saint) Thomas More, Chancellor of the Exchequer under Henry VIII, the Reformation’s most famous martyr. This is Holborn, heart of legal London, filled with grand buildings whose architecture never fails to lift my spirits.  On weekend evenings, the place simmers down to a whisper—only a few boisterous boozers can be heard at the few pubs that dot the warren of lanes.
            On Carey and Searle Streets I walked until, off Portugal Street, I arrived at The Old Curiosity Shop about which Dickens wrote a novel. It is definitely a 17thcentury structure that survived the Great Fire of London as is evident by its sagging roof and its overhung upper storey—typical of Tudor housing. Today, a shoe store takes occupancy within but tourists do come in their numbers to take photos of a very interesting corner of this part of the city.
            Lincoln’s Inn, one of the four Inns that comprise the Court of Chancery, is a magnificent Tudor structure with banks of characteristic fancy brick work, tall chimney pots, stone gargoyles and an impressive gate house. It is said that the playwright Ben Jonson laid some of the bricks of these buildings in the reign of Elizabeth I. Although I have wandered at will through the many nooks and crannies of this venue, I was unable to enter today as the area is closed to visitors during the month of August as a result of some construction activity within.
            No harm, no foul. I left and made my way towards Sir John Soane’s Museumwhich is also heavily scaffolded—due to refurbishment. It was closed, in any case, and having visited it on many occasions, I had no intentions of going inside to peruse the impact of Soane’s obsessive collecting of architectural fragments from around the world. On another side of the Square in which prisoners were once executed (it is rumored that the screams of their ghosts can still be heard on certain nights in the area) is the grand Neo-Classical façade of the Royal College of Surgeons that hides yet another little-known museum in its bowels—the Hunterian Museum (which I have also visited a few years ago).    
            And then, on another side, was the van with free food with hordes of homeless men clustered around it to claim their evening meal. Within half an hour, it was all gone and I found myself on Kingsway looking for the Church of St. Anselm and Sr. Cecilia as I wished to pay a visit since I would be missing Sunday mass tomorrow. That too was closed as the Saturday evening mass had ended about a half hour previously. My walk had accomplished a great deal—it had taken me through parts of London that I love because of my close familiarity with them, but it had also introduced me to certain facts of which I had remained ignorant.
            There was nothing left to do except enter Little Waitrose on High Holborn to buy myself some breakfast sandwiches for my early morning departure tomorrow. I did so and walked towards the bus stop at Brownlow Street to hop into a bus to Smithfield. By 7. 45, I was at Carluccio’s and awaiting the arrival of Edward.
Last Meal in London:
            Carluccio’sis one of my favorite London Italian chains—introduced to the city by Antonio Carluccio. I was introduced to it by my former neighbors Tim and Barbara, who often ate there on a Sunday evening. Edward arrived a few minutes later and we decided to have the 2 course prix fixe meal both of us choosing a penne pasta with sausage in a tomato sauce as our main dish and finishing off with Tiramisu which we washed down with red wine and Peroni beer respectively. We chatted about Bollywood movies of which, I discovered, Edward is a big fan. But by 10.10 pm, we had to call it a day and walking into the coolness of a summer’s night, we headed back to Amen Court where I finished the last bits and bobs of my packing. Edward very chivalrously took my cases downstairs in readiness for the cab driver who would be coming to pick me up at 4.00 am!
            And thus, quite suddenly, my time in London came to a grinding halt. I set two alarms to be on the safe side and to the chimes of St. Paul’s clock, tried to get to sleep. But tension made sleep elusive and when Cynthia and Michael returned after midnight, I was still awake and able to spend a few more minutes chatting with them before bidding them goodbye again. I continued to remain wide awake right through the night and at 3.30 am, woke up to start the long drive into the lightening dawn to begin my journey from Gatwick Airport and away from London.
            Yes, I will have to admit that tears blurred my eyes as they ate in the familiar landmarks of the city for I have no idea when I will return…but I live in the confidence that return I will. For when you have as much passion for a city as I do for T’Smoke, you never need much of an excuse to come back.

Parting Shot:
            So there you have it: My Month in Blighty. If I were to sum up its fruitfulness in terms of goals accomplished, I would say I did not do too badly. I researched, wrote, and worked with the editors to complete a commissioned essay on Paradoxes of Anglo-Indian Identity. I made contact with the Images Department of the National Portrait Gallery to obtain rights and permission for the use of pictures I intend to include in my forthcoming book. I  met with sociologists and anthropologists at The School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London to gain insights into the manner in which the manuscript of my book can be improved for publication. I had fruitful meetings with faculty colleagues and staff at NYU-London who worked hard to support my work in the computer labs. I used the British Library for checking footnotes and cross-referencing sources in my bibliography. 
           I completed every single one of DK Eye Witness Guides walks through London. On an average, I walked 6 miles per day or about 12, 000 steps. And I broke my own personal walking record by walking 12 miles or approximately 25,000 steps in a single day when in Oxford.
           Outside of Central London, I visited Hampstead and Greenwich, Oxford and Leeds Castle. 
           One of the most fulfilling of my many excursions was visiting my infirm friend Stan Fuller at the Madeley Estate Home for the Aged in Witney, near Oxford.
           The most exciting part of being in London this summer was my presence in the city during the birth of the heir to the throne. I participated actively, as any die-hard Anglophile would, by making my way to the gates of Buckingham Palace to photograph the easel that announced the birth to the world. 
            I met many old friends and made new ones. They provided company, meals, long chats and insights into the British way of life. I also unexpectedly met and spent time with my old friend from Bombay, Firdaus, who was visiting London at the same time.
           I made my home in four different parts of the city and I enjoyed them all–Holborn, St. John’s Wood, Battersea and Ludgate Hill. St. John’s Wood and Battersea were new to me but I enjoyed discovering them. 
          I saw five great plays and my first opera at the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden. I also saw the Bolshoi Ballet perform Tchaikowsky’s Sleeping Beauty at Covent Garden.
          I think I can say that I packed more into my month than most visitors to London do in a year. I am always grateful for the opportunities that bring me to this, my favorite city–which is why I am almost manic in my consumption of its many pleasures. 

          Please stand by now for my last and final post—on my dramatic return to the US.

Friends, Shopping, Kyoto Gardens, More Friends, More Shopping…

Aug10


Friday, August 9, 2013
London
What do you do when you realize you have only two days left in your favorite city in the world? Do you complete the rest of the items on your sightseeing To-Do List? Do you spend them shopping for last-minute items? Do you panic that you will exceed baggage weight allowance and end up paying heavy charges? Do you fill it seeing friends whose contact with you makes your life more meaningful?  Well, in my case it was all of the above.
            So when I awoke at 8.00 am after a hellish night during which I stayed wide awake until 3.00 am listening to the bongs from the clock on St. Paul’s Cathedral and regretting the caffeine- laden chocolate drink I had consumed, last thing at night, from Paul’s, I skipped Mass and began to plan my day, literally hour-wise, as I had so much to pack in.
           
Breakfast with a Dear Friend at St. John’s Wood:
I showered and skipped breakfast and took the Tube straight to St. John’s Wood and walked briskly to Gail’s, the coffee shop at which I had plans to meet my friend Marilyn. Marilyn had been away from London for the past three weeks and had only just returned—hence the late date for our first meeting. Talking of Gail’s, have you noticed how many coffee shop chains have sprouted all over London, each better than the next? These Londoners are simply spoiled for choice—and every single one is packed so the economy had better be booming.
            Marilyn arrived ten minutes later but since we wanted someplace quieter to catch up in, we stepped next door into French Café Richoux which has the best pastries in town. Since it was breakfast time, we opted for something more sensible–she had Eggs Benedict sanssmoked salmon which I was quick to gobble and I had French Toast with an Americano. It was delicious but not as delicious as our long chinwag during which we found out all the exciting things that have happened in our lives since last we met a year and half ago, also in London. Marilyn was one of the close friends I had made during my life in London and she is someone I have clung to as I have gained nothing but wisdom, comfort and entertainment from our friendship.
            But then it was time to say goodbye and to get on with other items on my agenda.   
  
Shopping…
A bus from Wellington Road took me straight to Oxford Street where I found the side entrance to Mark sand Sparks—exactly the place I was seeking. I was in and out in a jiffy as I knew exactly what I wanted: my year’s supply of cotton undies. And from the Food Hall in the basement, two bars of their scrumptious Battenburg Cake which Llew and I love. Excess Baggage or not, I am going to have the room and the weight allowance for these!
An Errand at Victoria:
From the same bus stop at which I had alighted, I jumped into the 82 bus then headed to Victoria as I had a small errand to accomplish. I have been commissioned the submission of an essay on the new Shakespeare portrait that was unearthed a few years ago in Ireland and which is now considered the only definitive portrait for which he actually posed in his lifetime—and therefore, the most authentic likeness we have of him.  
A few days ago, when passing in a bus, I had spied the use of this portrait on the sign post of The Shakespeare Pub at Victoria and since I wish to illustrate my essay with a picture to indicate that this portrait is now so widely acknowledged as Shakespeare’s own that even pubs are using it, I wished to take pictures of it.          
So with my camera carefully recording it, I composed my pictures from all sides of this corner pub and when I was satisfied with the quality of my pix, I hopped on to the Tube at Victoria and headed for my favorite part of London. I got off at Holland Park and found my way to the entrance from the North side—I usually approach it from the Kensington side.
The walk from the South side approach was lovely—flowers were in full bloom in the gardens and the shady paths that led to the center were just delightful on this particularly temperate morning in London.   
Lingering in my Favorite Spot in London:
            So knowing London as well as I do, I guess if someone had to ask me what my favorite spot in the entire city is, I would answer without a second’s hesitation. So it was somewhat inexplicable, even to me, that I had not yet found the time to linger there until my second-last day in the city. I will keep you out of suspense by disclosing that what I mean is the amazing Kyoto Garden in Holland Park. I mean where else in a city would you see masses of azaleas blooming in vivid colors in the spring? Where could you tune the rest of the world right out as you listened to the soothing sounds of a tumbling cascade accumulating foamy water in a rock pool filled with giant koi? Where could you linger as peacocks, yes peacocks, came to say Hello and rewarded you with glimpses of their stunning tail feathers? Where could you pause to appreciate the calming qualities of Zen minimalist landscaping design? I have done all of the above in the gardens that were gifted to the UK by the Government of Japan. It amazes me that this place is not mobbed—but thank goodness it isn’t. I have the happiest memories of whiling away the hours grading my students’ papers on the stone benches of this garden while glancing occasionally at herons darting into the pool. I also have happy memories of introducing Chriselle to this memorable spot—a spot she too grew to love—as we chased peacocks for pictures on the park’s lawns.
            So naturally, I stopped there to relive those happy memories at the fag end of my London stay. I nibbled on my lunch—Carluccio’s take-out offerings. Savoring them quietly, I paused to give thanks for a brilliant month that will always remain in my memory as a marvelous time for self-reflection and self-growth in a city I adore.
           
Reliving the Romance of a TV Show:
            Then, because I was in Holland Park, I left the Kyoto Gardens behind me and arrived in the Orangery. The Belvedere Restaurant by Marco Pierre White, one of London’s best-regarded chefs, was right beside me. Since I hadn’t clicked any pictures from the terrace on the evening I was at the party thrown by my friends the Harveys, three weeks ago, I asked permission of the receptionist to do so this time. She readily agreed and up I went to the terrace which overlooks the formal Italianate Garden in which key scenes from my favorite TV show of all time were shot: As Time Goes By. This is the scene in which a young Lionel Hardcastle (Geoffey Palmer) meets a young Jean Pargiter (Judi Dench) for the first time and asks her the way to Curzon Street. I clicked a few pictures there as well as ones of the bench on which Jean pauses during her lunch break when she encounters a breathless jogger.
Yes, yes, I know I am quite quite hopeless when it comes to ATGB so you must forgive me my idiosyncratic excesses; but coming to Holland Park is always for me, a pilgrimage of sorts in the same way that Beatles devotees go to the crosswalk on Abbey Road and pose for pic there. See the similarity? So I am not that cracked after all, right?
More Shopping:
            Using the more conventional exit by which I USUALLY leave Holland Park, I arrived at Kensington High Street. This gave me the opportunity to check out a couple of thrift stores before I crossed the street and went to Waitrose to buy my stock of Ainsley Herriot powdered soups that are a staple in the Almeida household and much loved by Llew and me. With a dozen packets in my possession, I left my favorite pantry in the world and hopped on a bus again.
Off to Buy A ‘Stick’:
I rode it all the way to Bloomsbury as the next item on my To-Do List was buying myself a good quality umbrella from James and Co. at Bloomsbury, one of the oldest ‘stick’ shops in the country. Indeed it was in business at a time when gentlemen carried walking sticks—then a most fashionable accessory. Today with walking sticks no longer de rigeur, the shop sells umbrellas and very expensive ones too with fancy carved handles, real crocodile skin embellishment and sturdy frames as only the English can make them. I was fed up of the el cheapoJapanese ones that bend at the slightest sign of a wind so procuring a good umbrella was on my list.
            Alas, I did not find one that was pretty enough for my liking. I particularly wanted one with beige tones to match my Burberry trench raincoat and not finding anything appealing enough, I sadly walked out of the store empty handed. Perhaps on my next trip to London, I shall find the right one for which I will not mind forking out 100 pounds or more!
An Errand at NYU and the Post Office:
            Well, at that point my day went downhill. I decided to stop briefly at NYU to find out how much I owed for the mailing of my printed material to the States only to find that my box was still sitting in the mail room and hadn’t been send off. This meant an unexpected trudge to the Post Office at Holborn with Mark, our porter, to get rates and when we discovered how expensive it was to ship by surface through Royal Mail, we balked and decided to use the courier service instead.
So we trudged back to Bedford Square and Mark promised me that the parcel will be couriered first thing on Monday. I can only hope all my books, notes and other research material will reach me intact and soon.
Tea with Roz:
            It was almost 5,00 pm and I was late by half an hour for my cuppa with my friend Roz on Tottenham Court Road. I had left my jacket at her home in Battersea and she had kindly brought it to work for me to pick up. We planned to have a cuppa for the last time before my departure and seeing how distressed I was over my parcel, she marched me off to Yumcha for a pot of Chelsea Chai. And sitting and chatting with her and laughing at little things as we often do, my distress became a thing of the past. It was just wonderful to sit in (yet another) coffee shop and shoot the breeze with one of my dearest friends in London—probably for a very long time to come.
Home Finally:
            I said goodbye to Roz, got on the Tube at Goodge Street and headed back to Amen Court. I had wanted a short rest before I left for my evening’s dinner appointment, but the NYU wild good chase had delayed me. So all I had time to do was freshen up and change and leave the house again for my 6. 45 pm appointment with Bande Hassan, Llew’s former colleague and now close family friend.
Dinner with a Dear Friend:
            I took the Tube to Marble Arch and met him at Portman Square as decided and we strolled the couple of block to the London Hilton Hotel where the famous Italian restaurant Locanda Locatelli is located. We were soon joined by Kiran, yet another of his invitees, and then we gave ourselves up to the fun and relaxation of a great evening in superb company with amazing cuisine. Service, as befits a great restaurant, was impeccable and my red prawn risotto with zucchini flowers were perfect. For dessert I had a chocolate fondant with a pistachio sauce center served with “milk ice-cream” while also nibbling on the selection of sorbets ordered for the table: passionfruit and apricot, strawberry, apple. Delightful! Indeed, Locanda Locatlelidoes not have its great reputation for nothing and we were fully satisfied.
            It was about 10.00 pm, when I bid goodbye to my host and thanked him for his generosity. He and Kiran walked me to the Tube and I was home by 10. 15 pm and in bed by 11.00 after what had been a day of purposeful agenda completion—but above all, a chance to meet my London friends without whom my stays in this city are simply not the same. I had started and ended my day with good friends and to me that was made it exceptional.
            Until tomorrow, cheerio!

A Day in the Kentish Countryside–Leeds Castle & Bearsted

Aug9


Thursday, August 8, 2013

Leeds, Kent
We could not have asked for a better day for gamboling in the Kentish countryside—I mean it was a beaut. All that oppressive heat and humidity of four weeks ago has given way to the lovely cool summer for which England is known—and, of course, it has to happen when I am getting ready to leave. Trust my lousy luck! Still, as the English say, Can’t Complain…so I will not!
            I did get to 8.00am Mast at St. Paul’s Cathedral with Cynthia (Michael was saying it), had a quick granola breakfast with lemony tea and was off on the Tube to Northolt where my friend Bash had instructed me to meet him. We were on one of our habitual jaunts into the country to which Bash always treats me because he has a car and is a very compliant driver. Over the years since I have known him, we have scoured Kent, the Cotswolds, Sussex, with Wiltshire thrown in for good measure. This time, I was excited as he was bringing along his new lady friend Kim and I was the happy witness to their new-found togetherness. Once I was introduced to Kim who turned out to be a fun person and very jolly compatible company indeed, we set off on our longish drive to Kent. We were headed to Leeds Castle where we intended to spend the day. I felt honored as both Bash and Kim had taken the day off from work to accompany me on this excursion.
Leeds Castle was Mobbed:
            A very easy drive on motorways throughout with just a few traffic glitches got us to Leeds castle by midday. I was simply stunned to see the number of cars in the car park—clearly Brits are enjoying ‘staycations’ this year as their weather has never been so warm and hospitable. And, as I said, today was blissful. We strolled from car park to ticket booth past glorious parkland for such ancient piles come with massive packets of land in real estate gifts that were bestowed long centuries ago by royal edict for services rendered.
            The entry fee was steep: 21.50 pounds per head—but it is valid for the year. So it makes sense to reach there at 10.00 am if possible to truly enjoy all that the day out at Leeds Castle can offer. And there is plenty. Apart from a Grand Tour of the Castle, there was the vast grounds in which to picnic—some very sensible people had brought along those typical English hampers that are so quintessentially a part of an English summer. There are golf courses, lakes on which large craft ply for the amusement of kids, trains that ferry passengers from ticket booth to castle entrance as the walks to and fro can be pretty exhausting, falconry displays and get this…even punting on the castle moat for a skinny 5 pounds. Had we arrived earlier and brought a picnic, we could have included this lovely activity in our agenda. But, of course, as always, we were hard pressed for time to fit it all in.
           
A Brief History of Leeds Castle:
            The history of Leeds Castle is long and complicated—suffice it to say that it is mentioned already in the Domesday Book of 1076. It is named agfer Esledes, the original owner of the castle and property. Title deeds changed hands several times until Richard II becomes involved. Once in royal hands, the castle was extended and spruced up, Its most notorious owner was Henry VIII who gifted it to his first wife Katherine of Aragon who took occupancy and cozied it up. In the 18th century, it fell in the hands of the Fairfax family who eventually moved to Fairfax, Virginia. In the 20th century, when the owners were bankrupt, they sold it to an American heiress named Bailie who was subsequently made a Baroness. She hired the French interior decorator Stephane Boudin to modernize the place and make it livable. His touches are very distinct and her living spaces are the most warm and friendly.
From the medieval to the Tudor to the contemporary, a tour of the castle presents a fine contrast in exterior and interior decorating styles and a history, one might say, of the manner in which the rich and privileged have lived through the centuries. There is a medieval fountain, for instance, set in a gabled courtyard that is lovely and four carved marble busts of Henry VIII and his three children: Mary Tudor, Elizabeth I and Edward VI. There are red boxes containing official papers that were used in important international conventions such as the Camp David summit in 1978 as Leeds Castle was often used as the venue for such high-level meetings and negotiations. There is the oldest life-size equestrian sculpture in the world and a strong box that dates from medieval times. And, above all, there are the stunning views of the property and the moat from every window on every level that give the entire place a most glorious feel.
            And it is in the moat that the punting takes place. You can sit and allow yourself to be rowed in the bucolic environment past vistas of the castle and under arched bridges that must be simply fabulous. Alas, we did not have the chance to do that as we were simply starving by the time we finished touring the castle and had to get lunch urgently.
A volunteer guide suggested we skip the castle restaurant which was pricey and go instead to the Village of Leeds to a pub named The George Inn. We complied quite readily, took the train for 50 p per head, got back into our cars and headed to Leeds Village. We found The George Inn easily enough, poked around inside, ordered our drinks (Pimms, of course, as it was the perfect day for such indulgence) and then sat outside on the picnic tables under jolly red umbrellas to pig out on pub grub:  fish and chips (for me—can’t leave England without it), steak and ale pie for Kim and hot toasted sausage and caramelized onion sandwiches for Bash. Indeed it was a memorable lunch and we spent a grand hour lingering over it all.
Cricket on the Bearsted Green:
            My guide book 25 Day Trips from London had recommended that we do not miss Bearsted Village when we visit Leeds Castle and so I passed on the recommendation to Bash. We decided to forego punting on the moat at Leeds Castle and instead made our way to the car after lunch to go in search of Bearsted. It took some seeking as the Green which is the heart of the village is approached through a discreet side street. But find it we did and we spent the best couple of hours just lingering in this lovely gracious Kentish village which is the stuff of which poems are written.
            So all the elements that make the perfect English village are in place here: St. Mary’s Church, the village watering hole, a small but classy restaurant (The Oak on the Green), loads of Tudor style houses (some so higgledy-piggledy they could actually belong to the Tudors), and of course, the distinctive Oast houses of Kent in which hops were placed for drying to make Kentish beer. These were all very much in evidence and what’s more, they were all placed, as if by deliberate design, around a gorgeous Green—a vast expanse of green compound on which kids rode their bikes, played cricket with their Dads, mums walked babies in strollers and guys brought their dogs out for a run (one looked suspiciously like Ferris—I simply had to pinch myself to believe it wasn’t him!). The Green happened to be named after Alfred Myns, a Victorian cricketer who hailed from this village and as a left-hander had brought batting glory to these parts. The village sign bears a portrait of this cricketer playing the game on the Green in a top hat (which, my cricketer friend Bash informed us—he captains the Kenton Eleven team) was how the game was played in Victorian times when it was only the pursuit of Lords! How very interesting.
           
Tea in the Local:
            By them, as Kim put it, we could all murder for a cup of tea—and so in we went to the pub right behind us for a pot of Earl Grey. And how very welcome it was too! More chit chatting in a gastro pub filled with fresh flowers saw us while away some more time. When the village clock chimed seven o clock, we reluctantly raised ourselves up from the coziness of our sofas and returned to the car for the lovely drive home.
                Bash and Kim stopped briefly at Amen Court to say Hello to Cynthia and Michael before heading back to Harrow.
Dinner Chez Colclough:

            It was a quiet but companionable dinner: fish cakes with salad and hummus with ice-cream for dessert. After dinner, we sat with my PC so Cynthia could see some of my cruise pictures and then it was time to go to bed after an amazing day.
            Until tomorrow, Cheerio!

Careening Around Canary Wharf and Charterhouse

Aug7


Wednesday, August 7, 2013

London
            Having woken up by 6.00 am and launched straight into my work, I did not wish to break off at 8.00 am to attend Mass. I, therefore, continued to stay at my computer until almost 9.00 am—which was three solid hours of work—before I went downstairs to join Cynthia for breakfast. I enjoyed her delicious porridge with tea and then it was time for me to start my packing particularly since I wished to see how I am doing with weight restrictions. About an hour later, having sorted my possessions and decided how best to divide them between my single bag and my hand baggage, I got ready to leave. There were a few places I wished to go to and a few places I wished to see before the day was through.
Church-Crawling:
I did the equivalent of a pub crawl this morning in that I did a church crawl. Having found the Wren and Hawksmore churches closed yesterday, I made one more attempt to enter them today. My first stop was the Church of St. Stephen Walbrook where I had the chance to take in Sir Christopher Wren’s prototype for St. Paul’s Cathedral. It is true that going by the plain exterior of the church with its single spire, one would never imagine that the interior could be quite so gorgeous. And it was superb. The inside of the dome is embellished with fine plaster tracery work. There is a grand altar reredos and a pulpit in dark carved wood and the altar, designed by none other than Henry Moore is a solid marble slab which some describe as a lump of cheese. Large powerful Greek pillars hold up the structure whose Neo-Classical principles of design and decoration are simply splendid.
            This church is also famous for the fact that its former Vicar, one Chad Varah, initiated the institution of the Samaritans, an organization that provides assistance to people in despair. They are taught to simply ring the number that used to be “Mansion 9000” when it was founded. The number took the caller straight to a live person on the other end who would then talk the caller out of the desire to commit a desperate act. The Samaritans still do their incredible work today and have saved several lives in the process. But it all began in this church which used to be the official church of the Lord Mayor of London (as Mansion House, the Mayor’s official residence is next door). The original telephone used to initiate this mission of mercy is kept in a glass case in the church.
With this mission accomplished, I crossed the street and entered the church of St. Mary Woolnoth which was designed by Wren’s pupil, Nicholas Hawksmoor. It was also open and I had a chance to take in its interior which sported the main features of the typical Anglican church. But clearly, in this case, it is the exterior design that is striking.
Careening Around Canary Wharf:
       I had never been to Canary Wharf other than to pass it on the DLR train when headed to Greenwich. Having heard so much about this part of London, I decided to take the Tube to get there and to wander around and explore a bit. For the uninitiated, Canary Wharf became the center of London’s banking industry, a few years ago, when they moved from the overcrowded City to this bend on the Thames. The largest banking enterprises are here—they were swiftly followed by the journalism industry that abandoned Fleet Street (apparently, the 18thand 19th century buildings were no longer able to sustain the vast amount of wiring and cable laying that digital technology demanded). Hence, the move to new state-of-the-art premises.
            Well, as might be expected, Canary Wharf is like the Nariman Point of Bombay or Hoboken in New Jersey—areas that have sprouted like mushrooms in recent years to accommodate the thrust of commerce and industry ever upwards. It is a maze of sky scrapers—all glass and chrome, but not at all a concrete jungle because clever landscaping prevents it from such terrible degradation. Instead, there is a vast artificial lake, well spaced out promenades, wide open patios for enjoying good weather and an excellent network of transport channels that make it very easily accessible. I browsed among its many restaurants because folks who work here (generally having deep pockets) need to eat—hence Carluccios, the Slug and Lettuce, One Bar, etc. are all located in this space. I could easily have spent longer lingering among its many malls, but I had to get on with my day, so I bought some caponata and a lemon tart from Carluccios for my lunch and hopped back on the Tube to get back home.
Off to NYU and SOAS for Meetings:
            Back home, I picked up another lot of papers, books, files and photocopied material that I needed to mail back home to the States and got on the bus to drop them off at NYU. I did not have much time to linger, as I had a meeting with an anthropologist at the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London to talk about drafting a proposal to the British publishers for my book. The meeting took place in the Staff Common Room on the first floor of the building in which I have often attended meetings and performances in the basement auditorium in the years gone by.
            When the meeting ended, I returned to NYU and spent the next couple of hours working steadily as well as preparing my box for mailing with the help of the porters Mo and Mark who are always so accommodating to me.
In the Footsteps of Carthusian Monks:
            My next port of call was what is known as Charterhouse near Smithfield Market. I had forgotten how exactly to reach it, but by hopping on a 55 bus, I remembered that I ought to get off at St. John’s Lane (one of my former haunts when I had lived at Cowcross Lane near Farringdon Tube station). I walked through the ancient St. John’s Doorway that had once seen knights ride through it on their way to the Holy Land and then I was at Smithfield Market and entering the vast property of Charterhouse.
            The name Charter-house comes from Chartres in France from where the first Carthusian monks originated. By the 1100s, they had reached this location and set up a monastery complete with priory church and cloisters—monks cloistered themselves from the world and once they entered the monastery had no more contact with the secular world.
            Through my friend Bishop Michael, I was able to join a tour group that was led by a Brother known as Douglas Ellison. He was introducing himself to a group of about 20 visitors who had arrived from various venues. A brief history of the Carthusiasns brought us to the founder, a knight named John de Many of the Middle Ages who is still well remembered and honored in these premises. The history then swung to the Tudor period when the original medieval buildings were pulled down and a fancy Tudor mansion was built complete with Great Hall (used then for dining and still used for the same purpose) and a chapel—both of which we visited on the tour. The interior of the chapel is filled with commemorative tombs, etc. to one Thomas Sutton who founded the Charterhouse School for Boys with which some very prominent names are associated—such as John Wesley, founder of the Methodists; Lord Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scouts and William Makepeace Thackeray, the novelist, all of whom were students at this school. The coat of arms of the Sutton Family which includes a species of dog similar to a grey hound, are to be found everywhere.
There were also references to the four Carthusian monks who were horribly treated during the Reformation for defying Henry VIII’s edicts. They were led away from the monastery (after the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1538) to Tyburn where they were hung, drawn and quartered—a really horrific way to die. Each year, on the anniversary of their martyrdom, they are remembered at an ecumenical service that includes the Catholic clergy, in the premises. I was told that a red rose is laid on the ground to represent each of the martyrs who died that awful day. Needless to say, they were only four of the several thousands of monks and priors who refused to accept Henry VIII’s new laws and perished. Sir Thomas More, perhaps the most famous of the lot that defied Henry, was also briefly a student at this school and indeed when one tours the Tudor buildings, one very much expects to see him turn a corner.
            We were taken into the Grand Hall both upstairs and down. The buildings also suffered severe bomb damage during the War and were effectively restored and refurbished, so that many different architectural styles are evident as well as layers of stone work that are different with every passing age. It is a vast space with many different courtyards (the Master’s Court, the Wash House Court, etc). Part of the ancient Norman cloister still remains, but it is in a very unfinished state. There are 41 brothers living on the premises today under the leadership of a Master and in the presence of a Preacher (one Hugh Williams, a friend of Michael’s, who came out to say hello and greet me which was very sweet of him indeed). The tour was very enlightening and told me a lot about the place and the manner in which it has evolved over the centuries. The boy’s school eventually moved to Godalming in Surrey (where it currently exists as a very exclusive fee-paying private school) leaving the space free for the contemporary brothers. Since the place does not receive any government funding and depends entirely on grants, it is trying hard to link with the Museum of London to publicize the place (which is used for the shooting of many period films) and to attract private tour groups to take in its many interior and exterior charms. I have to say that though I enjoyed every minute of the tour, it was tiring as it went on for almost 2 hours.       
Dinner at Maze by Gordon Ramsay:
            I got back home to Amen Court by bus and took a short rest before getting ready for my evening’s plans. I was taking my host friends Michael and Cynthia and Rosemary (Roz) to dinner to thank them for being so generous with their hospitality towards me while I was a guest at their home. It was indeed a small gesture but the only way by which I could show my appreciation to them. We had 6. 45 pm reservations at Maze, the upscale restaurant by Gordon Ramsay where I had taken other friends only a few days ago. We took the Tube to Bond Street and then walked five minutes to Grosvenor Square where we were seated and awaited Roz who arrived about ten minutes later.
            Well, the food was fantastic and my guests enjoyed it enormously. We each chose a total of four courses—savory and sweet–and with the conversation flowing around the table, we made friends with our waiter Naveen who turned out to be a Catholic from Mangalore. The food was really excellent and the presentation and service simply superb. We thoroughly enjoyed it and before we could quite grasp the fact, it was almost 10. 00 pm.
A Bus Ride Through the London Night:
            We ended our evening with a bus ride on a double decker No. 11 bus that allowed us to enjoy the City by night with all the lights illuminating the many monuments of the capital. Roz gave us a ride in her car to Victoria Road where we were able to hop into a bus going home. Buckingham Palace and the Victoria Memorial were beautifully lit as were Westminster Abbey and Big Ben Tower. The renovation of the Cenotaph on Whitehall has been completed and the monument glows in a golden light. Trafalgar Square’s fountains are no longer blue for the new heir to the throne—they spout water in different colors. The Strand was vibrant with throngs just emerging form the theaters opposite the Savoy Hotel or from the restaurants of Covent Garden. Sitting upstairs we had box-side views of the proceedings down below and it was great seeing the city from this perspective at night when electric light added magic and mystique to this most architecturally stunning of urban landscapes.
            We were home by 11.00 pm and ready to call it a day.
Until tomorrow, cheerio!                     

Being a Sloan Ranger in Chelsea and Knightsbridge

Aug6


Tuesday, August 6, 2013:
London
Being a Sloan Ranger in Chelsea and Knightsbridge

            My day began with 8.00 am Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral that I attended with my friend Cynthia whose husband, Bishop Michael was saying it. It was the feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord and was, therefore, said in the special American Chapel in the back of the cathedral—a chapel that was created by the people of Great Britain in appreciation of American effort in World War II and in memory of the Americans who died giving their lives for the defence of Europe. It was a very moving service indeed after which we met a couple of folks from Kerala—one was a Roman Catholic priest from the Bronx in New York, Fr. Jose; and the other was his nephew Shibu John, a scientist with Royal Brompton Hospital in London. Michael ended up inviting the two of them to his place for breakfast so we spent some time over porridge and toast and tea chatting with them. Today was also the morning I decided to go out and get my special breakfast from Paul’s—almond croissant with a hot chocolate (as only Paul can make it). Such yumminess! I carried it over to Amen Court and had it while Cynthia prepared breakfast for her unexpected guests.
           
Off to Chelsea:
            After breakfast, I sat working for a couple of hours. Then, Cynthia and Michael and I set out for Chelsea by Tube to see the flat into which they will soon be moving. We stopped at Trinity Church en route at Sloan Street to pay a visit—it is a beautiful Arts and Crafts Church with stained glass windows by the Pre-Raphaelites William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones. We spent a little while in prayer after which we stopped briefly inside the Jo Malone showroom for a sample spray. It was then time for us to get to the flat and survey it. Michael and Cynthia were so proud and happy to show me their new place. It is a gorgeous flat, bright, light, spacious and yet not overwhelming. They are indeed deeply blessed to have it. We sat and had a cup of coffee together and then I was off, leaving them to get back home.
Becoming a Sloan Ranger:
            I spent the next few hours doing one of the things I most love to do when I am in London—dallying on the King’s Road and browsing through its thrift shops for antique jewelry and vintage finds. On and off the 22 bus I stepped, stopping off at all the stores that are my usual haunts. And I rode all the way to the Mary Portas shop at Parson’s Green. Indeed it was my lucky day because I found a genuine Sadler’s Brown Betty teapot, an antique hand painted porcelain cup and saucer to add to my collection, an interesting necklace with twin interlocked hearts and a set of four Swarovski crystal candleholders that were all splendid buys. Indeed, as Cynthia put it, I did very well with my vintage browsing. It was also great to simply slink around Sloan Square and Sloan Street like the Sloan rangers of the 60s. Interestingly, I did actually enter the Vivienne Westwood store—the very place from which the designer made her daring debut in punk fashion that heralded the arrival of punk culture. It is a rather iconic store and I was glad to be there.
Off to Knightsbridge and Harrods:
            I could hardly believe that it is the last week of my stay here in London and I have not yet entered Harrod’s. Had I gone there as soon as I arrived, I might have had a glimpse of their half-yearly sale. There were no sales, alas, but I was there specifically to buy a Christmas pudding to carry off home and I was pleased to have a first shot at their newest stock that has just come in. I also bought a box of biscuits for my friend Bina to whose place I was headed in the afternoon. Harrodsalso gave me a chance to browse a bit in its famous Food Halls, took in its gift sections and then left.

Dinner with Friends in Harrow:

            On the bus across the street I jumped only to get off at Green Park Tube station from where I took the Tube to Euston. I was headed to Harrow to spend the evening with my childhood friend Bina who has lived in London for 25 years with her husband Naveen. At Euston, I followed the signs to the Main Line Overground trains and reached Harrow at 5. 15 pm after dozing off a couple of times on the train! Bina was waiting for me in her car at Harrow and Wealdstone station and off we went to her place.
            We spent the rest of the evening, as always, chatting and catching up. In a short time, Navin arrived and joined us for dinner. Bina and I always have a great deal to say as we go back a long way having first made friends when we were but 13 years old. Our friendship has stood the test of time and it is always a delight to meet up with her and her family in London.
            Dinner was vegetarian as Bina sticks to a non-meat meal on Tuesdays—we had rice and dal with chick peas and a mixed vegetable. By the time we were done with her delicious meal, it was 8. 45 and I was ready to leave. They dropped me back to the station and I took the fast train to get back to Euston from where I got to St. Paul’s on the Tube.
            Cynthia and Michael were admiring and envious of my buys and keep wondering how I am possibly going to carry these loads off to the States—frankly, I am wondering too! I had a bowl of vanilla ice-cream with chocolate sauce and Michael’s homemade flapjacks before I excused myself and went up to bed.           

Work at NYU, The City, Bolshoi Ballet

Aug6


Monday, August 5, 2013
Work at NYU, The City, Bolshoi Ballet
            The morning passed quickly with me putting in about 3 hours at my computer even before I got up for breakfast. I skipped morning Mass as I was so engrossed in my work, I did not want to break my trend of thought.  We had granola cereal for breakfast at the Bishop’s table with tea and then I returned to my work. A good part of the next hour was spent sorting through the vast amount of paper I have accumulated through my handwritten or photocopied notes and research at the British Library. The administrative assistant at NYU-London at Bedford Square kindly agreed to assist me in mailing them back home to the States to save me having to pay excess baggage charges.
            I called Tim to find out if I could get over to his place to pick up the weighing scale he owns and took the bus two stops down to Holborn. With scale safely in my possession, I returned home and continued to cull down my papers. When that was done, I made a bundle of one pile and carried it with me to leave at NYU-London.
Lunch at Hare and Tortoise with my NYU-Office Mate:
            James Polchin and I share a very large office at our NYU campus in New York. Because he is currently posted in London, I have the office to myself and I do miss his presence. We had made plans to meet for lunch and to catch up on all that is happening at our London site. At 1.00 pm, James arrived at The Hare and the Tortoise at Russel Square’s Brunswick Center which has great pan-Asian food. My favorite is the Curry Laksa and I make sure I have it at least once during each of my visits to London. And that was exactly what happened. James ordered sushi and sashimi and I ate my super-large prawn, chicken and squid soup which was as terrific as I always remember it to be. We had a long and very informative exchange of information and ideas and he caught me up on all the changes that have occurred on our London campus since I worked here. We laughed, we joked, we tut-tutted over things and then it was time for the short stroll to Bedford Square. I said goodbye to James there and then settled down in my office to do a spot of photocopying and to print out a number of items that I need to send off to New York. I spent more than an hour getting all this work done and then I was off.
A Walking Tour of The City:    
            A steady drizzle had begun by the time I left my office and since I did not have my brolly—I am getting used to a London sans rain—I hopped into a bus up to Chancery Lane Tube station, then took the Tube to Bank. My idea was to explore the mainly commercial heart of The City of London which comprises banks, financial institutions, etc. and a bunch of beautiful old Wren and Hawksmore churches.
            When I got off the Tube, I was right outside the great Neo-Classical edifice of Mansion House which is the office of the Lord Mayor of London (not to be confused with the Mayor of London who is Boris Johnson—BoJo—and who is ensconced at City Hall, Norman Foster’s overturned glass pudding bowl on the South Bank). Right opposite is Sir John Soane’s Bank of England Building and right next to it is the Royal Exchange Building (the original Stock Exchange Building of London). These structures are fabulous and I do adore them. But with the drizzle becoming a steady shower, I quickly found my way to the Church of St. Stephen Walbrook (on Walbrook Lane) only to be disappointed because it was closed. Bummer!
            Not losing any time, I found the next church on my agenda: St. Mary’s Abchurch which, thankfully, was open. I stepped inside and took in the lovely aged interior with its box pews, superb wood carved altar and reredos by Grinling Gibbons and painted dome (thought to have been the work of James Thornhill but now attributed to someone else).
I spent some time there in prayer before venturing out in the rain again to look for St. Mary’s Woolnoth. This church sits at the cross roads with the Bank of England. It is one of Nicholas Hawkmore’s masterpieces with its two flat spires (reminiscent of Sainte Supplice in Paris). Unfortunately, it too was closed but I could admire its beautiful exterior and its characteristic Hawksmore’s touches—the solid pillars high up near the spires, for instance.
Tired and with plans disrupted by the rain, I rode on the bus to St. Paul’s and got back home about 5.00 pm. Having slept very late at night, I took a half hour nap as I had wonderful evening plans in store—I was off to see the Bolshoi Ballet straight from Moscow perform at the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden—a treat, I knew, that would be unbeatable. I simply could not get over the fact that for about 30 years since I have been coming to London, I had never seen a performance at Covent Garden and then suddenly I was seeing two in two weeks (Puccini’s La Rondine had been my first, two weeks ago)!
The Bolshoi Ballet at Covent Garden:
            Cynthia had prawn sandwiches and marble cake ready for me with tea. I wolfed it down and showered and got ready for my night out. On the Tube to Covent Garden and after a short stoll through Floral Street, I was at the theater at 7. 15 ready for my 7. 30 pm performance. The Royal Opera House looks gorgeous at night with all the lights on—the last time I had been for La Rondine, it was a matinee performance and the place wore a very different look. This was far more elegant.
            Well, I had a lovely seat and I settled down eagerly to give myself up fully to the enjoyment of the spectacle. And a spectacle it was indeed! I mean, what can I say except look for superlatives? Everything was brilliant—from the music to the choreography to the technical flawlessness of the ballet dancers as they performed The Sleeping Beauty to the stirring music of Tchaikovsky. For the next three hours, with an intermission which allowed me to stretch my legs and walk to the gorgeous glass conservatory restaurant, I had a simply splendid time. The lady sitting next to me also was alone—she is a ballet freak and extremely well-informed about it. We struck up a lively dialogue and I learnt a great deal from her in a short time. Indeed, I realized that this was my very first full-length ballet ever and what a dream it turned out to be. I could not have been more elated!
            I got back on the Tube to St. Paul’s and walked briskly home at 10. 30 pm when there were still enough people about to not make me feel uneasy. The rest of the household was asleep when I entered, so I tiptoed up to my room and settled down for the night.
            I did not fall asleep right away, however, as I have a problem with my Outlook which is allowing me to receive email but no longer allowing me to send any. I spent over an hour on the phone with a technician before my minutes on my phone card ran out and my session timed out. Overall, a hopeless experience that left me more frustrated and disappointed than over. But tired and upset, I fell asleep and hoped to sort things out tomorrow.
          Until tomorrow, Cheerio!