Paris and the Globe

Lynne and I have just gotten up on Thursday morning after a couple of activity-filled days, including a day trip to Paris yesterday.

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you can take a two-hour train trip between the cities.  The train station in London, St. Pancras, is only two tube stops from my flat.  The place is totally renovated and beautiful and there is a special lounge for customers of EuroStar, the high-speed rail service to Paris.  The trip is very smooth and you are in the "chunnel" for about 20 minutes of the trip.  The Paris station is Gare du Nord, which it must be said, is a typical dirty, crowded station.  There is little guidance for which Metro to take (French or English).  We went to the ticket window for the Metro and the woman there was awful.  I asked for a day pass and she said something that I could not hear or understand.  I said excuse me and she talked even lower and actually moved back from the microphone.  What she was saying was, "I don't understand English."  but swear to God she was saying it so low no one could hear her, including Lynne.  Now perhaps I made the fatal mistake of not asking if she understood English before I started speaking it but two thing:.  It was clear I could not hear her.  She could have come closer to the mic and said that she did not understand------ and she did not understand English at the international terminal where thousands of people come in from London every day?  I think she did understand and was just being difficult.  I have rarely encountered the "Parisien" attitude attributed to people in that city, but she had it in spades.

We finally made it to Chatelet, downtown and started to walk towards the Musee D'Orsay, our only real destination for the day.  On the Isle de la Citi, we sat at a cafe and had some delayed breakfast.

We had been urged to come into the cafe by a very adorable waiter who wiped away the memory of that Metro woman.

Then we started walking along the Seine.  It was a bit of a cloudy day but the city still looked beautiful.

 Notre Dame in the background.

The Louvre from across the river.....

The Institute du France, once famous, and perhaps still famous, for trying to protect the french language from intrusions of English and other languages.....

And the Musee D'Orsay, once a train station.

In case you're wondering, this is the closest we got to the Eiffel Tower....

Paris has a different idea about how to present itself than London.  While London is getting all cleaned up and sparkly, Paris remains the well-worn city with the gorgeous buildings definitely showing their age.  Both strategies have their advantages.  London looks great, but can almost look like Disneyland with its ancient buildings looking like they were constructed last year.  You can really see the age and the experience of the structures in Paris but especially on an overcast day, they can look a bit dreary.

Another difference.  London appears nonchalant about security--maybe it isn't but there are few outward signs, while at the Musee D'Orsay we encountered a number of three-men teams in fatigues with what I can only assume were loaded machine guns.

And our bags were searched as we entered the museum, in contrast to the British Museum, where there were not any people at the door.

The same was true of the Louvre, where we stopped just briefly to use the ATM.

---the requisite picture to show I was really there----

The D'Orsay has some of the most beautiful paintings even done, including many by Degas, Renoir, Monet, Manet, etc.  We spent a blissful hour and a half in the museum, just taking in the loveliness.

Here's the funniest picture of the day, telling tourists, I guess, to move to a different doorway...or something like that.

Of course, we sat at a sidewalk cafe for a while before we had to return to the train station and our trip back.

On Tuesday, we had walked into the city and seen some of the sights that had been pointed out to me in a previous guided tour, including the Ledenhall market, which was used as a set on the first Harry Potter film.

For you Jane Austin fans out there, the market in on Grace Church street in Cheapside, where Elizabeth Bennet's aunt and uncle, the Gardiners, lived.

Then we walked across the river, over the London Bridge on our way to the Tate Modern art gallery.  But first we encountered the Globe theater, which is a replica of the one owned by William Shakespeare.  I thought it was smaller, but it just holds fewer people than it would in the Bard's day because of fire laws.  We had a guided tour that was a lot of fun.

 That piece of machinery is not from Shakespeare 's day.

The Tate is another of those new buildings on the south side of the river that looks like a prison.

But inside it has some beautiful works of art.....

And it must  be said, some hideous things that should not be classified as art (in my opinion).  The gallery just picked up this Picasso, which I believe is now the most expensive painting ever.

Here's another difference between London and Paris.  We are able to take all the photos we want at the London galleries while cameras are strictly forbidden in Paris.

We were going to take a pub walk on Tuesday but we decided to put it off and relax.  Good decision, considering how early we had to get up for the train on Wednesday.

Sunday and Beyond

I woke up on Sunday feeling not so great, but I had already committed to going to Brunch with a "meet-up" group of 40+ singles here.  We met at a restaurant near my flat-- in Clerkenwell.  I was late because I could not find the place.  I still don't know how 45 Clerkenwell Road was two blocks from 42, but as one of the brunchers said, "Welcome to London."  There were four of us there--Allison, the planner, who works for a company that helps politicians become good government leaders (if only we had a company like that in the US), Coleen, who was in insurance and was one of the 9,000 people who actually live in "the city".  The city is the financial center of London and most of the buildings are offices.  It's pretty much a ghost town on weekends. The fourth was Nicky, a retired contractor--quite cheeky.  I told him he was kind of the micro-story of the Baby Boomers (he's 65).  He started out with his wife as hippies (even went to an ashram in India), then became a workaholic contractor, then retired and was wondering what he had missed out on by working all the time.  He is divorced.  He was a bit of a know-it-all about American politics--getting things sort of right, but losing all the nuance.  Interesting character.

Unfortunately, I spent the rest of the day in bed, trying to get rid of the cold.

Monday, I was determined to get out.  I went to the supermarket and then back to the British Museum, while I waited for the guided tour of the Inns of Court to begin.

I am amazed at the English version of security.  My bag was not checked at the door.  In fact, no one was at the door.  People just come in an out.  As I left, I saw three people leaving with suitcases--Middle Eastern people, who would be very suspect in the U.S.  I think it's great that you are not hassled.  On the other hand, I guess I have been taught to suspect everyone of being a terrorist.  Here they have been hit by terrorists many times from the IRA to Al Qaida, but they go about their business.

I had been on the Inns of Court tour before, but I remembered it fondly.  You travel through some of the most beautiful areas of the city, all the time hearing jokes about lawyers.  I guess I'm far enough away from it now not to be affected.  Here are some of the scenes

Our guide Shaughn pointed out a house that is believed to be the model for Charles Dickens Bleak House--a chambers where the famous fictional case of Jarndyce v. Jarndyce was handled.  That brings me to my favorite passage from any Dickens book (Dickens worked as a clerk in the Lincoln Inns):

"Scores of persons have deliriously found themselves made parties in Jarndyce and Jarndyce without knowing how or why; whole families have inherited legendary hatreds with the suit. The little plaintiff or defendant who was promised a new rocking-horse when Jarndyce and Jarndyce should be settled has grown up, possessed himself of a real horse, and trotted away into the other world. Fair wards of court have faded into mothers and grandmothers; a long procession of Chancellors has come in and gone out; the legion of bills in the suit have been transformed into mere bills of mortality; there are not three Jarndyces left upon the earth perhaps since old Tom Jarndyce in despair blew his brains out at a coffee-house in Chancery Lane; but Jarndyce and Jarndyce still drags its dreary length before the court, perennially hopeless."


Once again, the flowers were spectacular.  Roses....

 and flowering trees.

I'm beginning to think this is the best time to visit London.  There are fewer tourists than in the summer and the city is warm and beautiful.

Later on, I went to the airport to pick up  my friend Lynne.  She got in safe and sound.

Big Day In London

I woke up with a bit of a head cold on Saturday, but I knew I could not let that keep me home, not with such a big day in London ahead.

First I went to the Borough Market, which is almost solely about food.  I realized what a  non-foodie I really am when I got there.  I didn't know what you did with half the things that were being sold.  Cheeses everywhere.....

And England's favourite---meat pies--

And boy do they love their bacon--some of the saltiest  meat I have ever tasted, and my motto is never enough salt.

The market itself is under the train tracks near London Bridge station......

and right next door to Southwark Cathedral.  ( by the way, Southwark is pronounced "Suvok" here)

I did buy some fruits and vegetables--things I could recognize-- and brought them back to the flat.

Then I thought I would check out the demonstrations against government cuts to services--there was a big march from Victoria Embankment to Hyde Park.  But I felt like the Boston Marathoner who took the subway most of the route--I took the Underground to Hyde Park Corner.  There were lots and lots of people there--all very peaceful.  They appeared to be having a good time.

Later I learned that there were anarchist groups that had started making trouble later in the day--throwing bricks at the Ritz Hotel, occupying Trafalgar Square and destroying some items at Fortnam & Mason.  Now it's one thing to attack the Ritz, but FORTNAM & MASON?  One of the most beautiful and lovely stores in the world?  That's going too far.

I wanted to stay longer at the protests, but I felt like an interloper, and also I had to get the The Boat Race.  No more of a title is needed!  This is the annual scull race between Cambridge and Oxford down the Thames from Putney Bridge to the Chiswick (Chizik) Bridge.  In the center of the race is Hammersmith Bridge, where a lot of the spectators hang out.

There are people up and down the river bank.

And the occasional dog, who I was very worried about since the water gets very high at the end of the race when all the boats that follow the rowers go by.

For some reason I was less worried about the little kids who were on a tiny beach right next to this dog.  Here's what it looked like as the skulls came by.  That's Oxford in the yellow boat in the lead---- and at the end, that's the kids screaming as they got smashed by the waves.

In case you are interested, Oxford won by four lengths.  Now you would think a race like this would be more competitive than that.

Smoking and the Pubs

Well, the mystery of the people hanging outside the Globe Pub on Wednesday night was quickly solved.  There are gangs of people outside of every popular pub--they are the smokers who were chased outside when London outlawed smoking in pubs about three years ago.  On a guided walk on Thursday night, we passed a number of pubs with masses of people outside and hardly anyone inside.  Apparently Londoners would rather be uncomfortable, and perhaps cold, rather than give up their fags.

The tour Thursday was of the "ancient city" at night.  The City of London is actually a smaller section of London as a whole.  It is on the site of the Roman settlement Londinium, and has a number of pieces of the original Roman Wall (circa 200 AD), one near the Tower of London and another close to the Museum of London on a street called, appropriately, the London Wall.  It is also the financial center of the city, with all the new and modern buildings that implies. So on the walk we go past some very old structures, like the Royal Exchange, founded by Thomas Gresham, who I have already mentioned.....

lit up appropriately in green at night.....and this new building housing Lloyd's of London.....

This entire area was devastated by the London fire of 1667 and many of the older buildings date at around that time-the work again of Christopher Wren.  Apparently Wren was anxious to tear down many of the pre-fire buildings to try to get some order and structure into the city plan.  He was able to do a bit of that after the fire, so our guide Peter....

implied that Wren started the fire.  After stopping at a wine bar and a pub along the way, I was half-way ready to believe him.  By the way, the night time tours with pub stops are a great way to meet your fellow travelers.  I had a lively conversation with a couple from Sidney, Australia and a guy from Castle, Germany, home of the brothers Grimm.  Scarily, he could name the major sports teams in Philadelphia, when I told him I was from there.  (Upstate New York confuses people who often think I mean New York City).

Friday I decided to go to Regency Park, where I have never been.  Like other parks here, it is beautiful and, if not in full bloom, getting there.  Here are some scenes from this lovely space.

I felt so calm after being here that I went home and had a nap.  Earlier, I had gone to the half-priced ticket booth and gotten a ticket for Noel Coward's Blithe Spirit, which did not get the best reviews, but I figured how bad can a play be when it's in London's West End.  Pretty bad, as it turns out.  It's almost comforting to know that even England does not have an unending supply of fabulous actors.

I was trying to be cool going to the theater by myself, but I do cool very badly.  As I stepped into the theater, I tripped over a marble step (recovering before I hit the floor).  I had to roust six people out of their seats to get to mine.  Then while I was taking off my scarf (an absolute essential here--everyone who's anyone wears a scarf) it got all unraveled and covered my head.  I ended up looking like I was taking off a tea shirt, and doing a bad job of it.  After that I had to let the fellow next to me out of his seat and almost fell on the floor trying to lower my seat again.  No one seemed to notice any of these ridiculous maneuvers--the benefits of being unknown.

Random notes.  It is extremely easy to get around Central London because there are these signposts everywhere, directing you to where you want to go and even telling you how long it will take to get there.

London is like the tower of Babel.  I have never heard so many languages spoken in one place.  Many are ones that I have never heard before and can't make out where they came from.  Europe, Africa, Asia are all represented many times over.  Of course the worst is when I listen very carefully to try to decipher what language is being spoken and finally realize it's English.

All By Myself

Ellen left on Wednesday very early and since then I have been very lazy.  Yesterday I took two naps!  But I did manage to go to the supermarket and take in a lecture on medieval architecture from Gresham College.  Gresham is an interesting organization.  Founded with the donations of one man, Thomas Gresham, financier and founder of the Royal Exchange in the 16th Century, it offers free lectures on various topics from eight rotating professors.  Last night's talk was given at the Museum of London, not too far from here.  I have to admit a lot of it went over my head, but it was interesting seeing the changes that took place from the 13th to the 14th Century in building.

On the way home, at about 7PM, I came upon a very strange sight.  On the corner of City Rd and the London Wall, which is partly just a green patch, there were maybe 30 people standing, beers in hand, outside this pub called the Globe.  I think they might have been waiting for a train--they were all very well-dressed--or belonged to a beer tasting club, or who knows what.  Maybe the pub has half-priced beer night on Wednesdays.

I have just come back from a walk around my neighborhood that included a visit to the Spitalfields Market.  Lots of china, prints and furniture, along with the usual flea market junk.

Also lots of restaurants and cafes.  The people here have a sense of humor (or humour, I should say).  Case in point, this statue outside the market.

It says nothing on those boxes, so I have no idea why it's there.  From there, I went to find the Barbican Centre, where  my friend Sue and I stayed years before.  While we were there, my purse was stolen.  The policeman who helped us, Hamish, was so embarrassed about the theft that he gave us tickets for the Royal Shakespeare Company's The Alchemist, which was at the Barbican theater.  My purse was recovered in the ladies room of a pub across the street.  And while we were at the play, we heard a loud bang from what seemed to be behind the stage.  Later we learned that an IRA bomb had gone off in the local tube station.

I could not find the pub, the entrance to the station as I remember it, or anything, really that looked familiar.  It was years ago and so much has changed all throughout London.  But here's some pictures of the Barbican.

It's really just a high-end apartment complex with offices, a theater and even a lake between the buildings.

On my way there, I passed a concrete park, I guess you would call it, right by Liverpool Train Station.   Named Broadgate, this area includes a large statue called Broadgate Venus, for reasons that are not obvious...

a fountain and many cafes.  Another place I would like to hang out some day.

Returning from the Barbican to my flat, I went through the Bunhill Cemetery that I have mentioned before, and stopped to see the graves of William Blake and Daniel Defoe.  I can't tell you why, but Blake's stone had lots of trinkets and pence coins on top.

At least they weren't beer and alcohol bottles like you see at Jim Morrison's grave in Paris.  Tonight, I'm thinking about a pub walk--or maybe an early bedtime!