At the end of April, we took a trip to Oxford, one of the few major British destinations we had not yet seen. It was lovely, every bit of it. It was the kind of weekend that makes the following Monday seem even harder, but it was worth it, because it was relaxing, satisfying, edifying, and inspiring.
We met at Paddington Station on Friday evening after a hard day's work and hopped on the train. Andrew had grabbed a bottle of wine to enjoy en route, but we didn't have a corkscrew and they didn't have one in the buffet car, either. A very nice young couple across the aisle from us, recognising our predicament, shared some of their pinot grigio with us, in classy little plastic cups. We switched trains at Reading and got to Oxford in around an hour and half. It felt like we'd traveled hundreds of miles, though; London felt so far behind us.
We took a taxi from the station to our bed & breakfast, and we felt even further away. The owner was a gregarious South African named Stefan, and his establishment was comfortable and refreshingly free of any overblown floral fabrics. He gave us a recommendation for dinner, and it was a real recommendation, too. He didn't just list the restaurants that were nearby; he said "You must go to The Fishes. This is exactly the sort of food you should be eating." And he was right. We walked about twenty minutes to a tiny village on the outskirts of Oxford and found ourselves at a charming gastropub (which really just means, as far as I can tell, really good food with a focus on local, free-range, organic, etc. ingredients in a comfortable, slightly trendy setting. So, pretty much exactly what I look for in a restaurant). We shared a selection of appetizers, including fresh sardines, hummus, razor-thin slices of roast beef, blue cheese, chutney, and bread. It was all piled onto a big, chunky wooden cutting board, very rustic. Andrew went for steak and chips, and I had a scallop and bacon salad. Dessert was creme brulee and lemon parfait (not the layered ice cream sundae-type parfait, but a frozen meringue-type parfait). Everything was absolutely delicious and obviously made with love and attention. I could taste that the sardines had never seen a can, and neither had the chickpeas in the hummus. It's amazing the difference that can make. My scallops were some of the sweetest I'd ever tasted. Everything was just a little bit special; for instance my creme brulee had some creme fraiche in it, so it was a little tangy to cut through the sweetness. Amazing food, and a really good deal, too!
Let me warn you now, this will be a food-heavy post. We found better food in Oxford than we've found in London, for the most part. And that's quite a claim.
The next morning, we had a nice breakfast: the usual "full English" but with nice touches like a beautiful fruit salad and homemade banana bread. Then we set off for the day. Saturday was all about Blenheim Palace, just north of Oxford near the village of Woodstock. It's one of the most spectacular houses ever built, I reckon. It's most famous to Americans as being the birthplace of Winston Churchill, and I think he's probably the only person associated with the place who wasn't a total scoundrel, but that's just the way things go, I suppose. Oxford has a really good bus system, and it was very easy to find our way into town and up to the palace. We saw just a peek of the town on our bus ride, enough to pique our interest for Sunday. We arrived at the gates of the palace and walked down a long drive to get to the palace itself. We were quite impressed by the facade, but then we realised that we were only looking at the side of an annex wing. We entered the courtyard from one side, and then we saw the real palace. It's quite imposing. It's beautiful, certainly, but not really enviable. It looks more like a temple than a home. It was fantastic to visit, though.
We started by visiting the rooms on the ground floor of the palace. These were the state rooms, and they looked like the state rooms of any other palace: lots of brocade, tapestries, gilt furniture, huge silver urns. There was also a nice display of Churchill memorabilia that made me want to learn more about old Winston. Then we went back outside into the sunshine and had a tea break with a scone and ginger cake. We meandered through the grounds after that, first walking along the shore of the lake and then exploring the gardens. There was quite a variety of scenery, from quiet lakeside glades to a broad lawn that seemed to extend for miles. There was a charming waterfall and a "secret garden" with beautiful spring blossoms. The daffodils seemed to be a couple weeks behind London's, too. There were seas of yellow flowers.
After our stroll through the gardens, we bought a bottle of Blenheim estate water (not that there was a choice) and lay down on a hillside high above the lake. We both fell asleep for a little while - just long enough to get a bit pink - which felt like a total luxury. Then we walked down to the "pleasure gardens," where we saw a butterfly house, a tiny replica of nearby Woodstock village, and a sweet hedge maze. Then we went back to see the first floor of the palace, which turned out to be a collection of rooms featuring an ill-fated effort to turn the history of the Marlborough family into a Disney-style attraction with outdated audio-animatronics. We laughed, then went back out into the grounds and walked up a hill to a huge column commemorating the first Duke of Marlborough. It was an impressive column, but the inscription on the sides of it was nothing more inspiring than the text of a legal writ setting out the details of Queen Anne's gift to the family of the palace and grounds. There were several feet of inscription devoted to the succession of the palace to daughters as well as sons. There were also a lot of leftovers from a flock of sheep that had apparently been allowed to graze near the column. We walked back along the other side of the lake, past several extravagantly coloured pheasants, to Woodstock village, which is the most charming town I have ever seen in my life. It looks like the most recent development was about 300 years ago, but everything has been kept up perfectly. We had a gin and tonic while waiting for the bus, then went back to Oxford to dress for dinner. What a trying life we do lead :-)
Getting to dinner did prove to be somewhat trying as our taxi was about 20 minutes late, but while we were waiting, we met a Swiss couple who we helped to find a hotel (our B&B was full). They gave us a card with their email address and invited us to stay with them in Bern any time!
Eventually our taxi showed up and took us through town to the River Cherwell Boat House, which is indeed a place to rent boats to go punting on the river. It's also a lovely restaurant, and we had a table overlooking the peaceful little river. We had a pinot blanc and started with the evening's amuse bouche of parsnip soup with tarragon foam - a lot more tasty and substantial than it sounds. Then I had a pea and mint mousse with crisp pancetta to start. Andrew had haddock with lentils and pesto. For dinner, I had trout and a butter sauce with tiny shrimp in it. It came with a painterly swish of sweet potato puree and braised fennel. Andrew had exceptionally creamy risotto with asparagus and parmesan. It was all really intense and beautiful. Dessert did not disappoint, either. I had chocolate mousse with a cumin-caramel sauce that was subtly spicy. Andrew went for the tiramisu, which was so much more delicious even than normal tiramisu, although I'm not sure how. The whole meal was delicious, and we had a really nice walk through town afterwards. We stopped at the Eagle and Child to look around and see where JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis used to hang out when they were students. We wandered past some of the colleges, too, and thought about how wonderful it would be to study in such an amazing place. Then we caught the bus back to the B&B to rest after a long and wonderful day.
The next day we got up pretty early so we could get into town to walk around before we had to go back to London. We went to the botanical garden first. It features in His Dark Materials, which we both read recently for the first time. It's also a really nice little garden, with signs on all the plants, which I love. We've seen a lot of the same plants in different parks and gardens this springtime, and at the garden we got to see lots of different varieties of those same kinds of plants. We now know euphorbia and hellebore when we see them. Euphorbia is a particularly neat-looking plant. It, along with many of the plants in the botanical garden, is a very mathematical plant, with regular patterns resulting in fantastical structures. The one disappointing aspect of the garden was that there were thousands of irises that had not yet started to bloom. A couple weeks later and I would have been in heaven there! But all the flowers that were blooming were beautiful, and there were birds singing all over the place. We also got to watch people trying to punt along the river, which we decided was more fun than actually trying to punt ourselves. I know that from experience at Cambridge!
After the garden, we wandered around the colleges and found an amazing little store that sold board games, magic tricks, and math books. The store clerk showed us some tricks with a crystal ball and we leafed through some books showing the relationship between MC Escher's drawings and advanced geometry. They even had books on quilts and math. Then we found the philosophy building, saw the colleges of some of our favorite authors, and had a nice lunch in a cafe on the high street. I had a bloody mary and some beautiful crab salad, while Andrew had a Croque Madame. Delicious. Then it was back to the B&B, on the bus to the train station, and back to London. It was one of the best weekends ever. This is why we moved to England. Although spending so much time in a college town may have been somewhat counter-productive in terms of our job satisfaction, it was inspiring at the same time. Not that we are far removed from academia and general scholarship what with all our reading, but every once in a while you need a reminder of why you are who you are, and I think Oxford represents the sort of idealized scholarship and learning-for-the-sake-of-learning that Andrew and I thrive on. We just need to remember that it's a state of mind not limited to professors and college students. And any time we need a reminder of how beautiful learning can be, it's just a train ride away in Oxford.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Good Thames (like good times, get it?)
We've been having a rollicking good time lately. Last weekend was jam-packed with all sorts of fun and games.
I started the weekend by meeting my friend Courtney (of the London Gator club, for which she is going to hand over responsibility to me!) for a drink at a nearby trendy bar. I hadn’t seen her in ages, and it was good to catch up and hear what she’s been up in the past few months. I also got to meet a couple of her friends. It was so nice to be with a group of girls. I realized yesterday that unless I make a special trip to see the receptionist at work and have a 30-second conversation with her about the weather or something, I never get to talk to anyone female in the course of a normal day. That can’t be healthy. But I had a lovely time with Courtney and her friends and enjoyed my strawberry Tom Collins.
After that, I was off to meet Andrew for dinner at Villandry. We had reservations for the special London Restaurant Week menu, where you get a three-course meal for just £25. Marvellous. I started with a nice charcuterie platter with various salamis and hams and some incredible celeriac remoulade, while Andrew had a seafood bisque that arrived in a copper saucepan, from which the waitress poured the soup into a warmed tureen at the table. Then I had chicken paillard with arugula salad and red pepper relish. Andrew had steamed sea bass with tapenade and roasted potatoes. Finally, I had a flourless chocolate cake and Andrew went for the lemon tart. It was utterly fabulous. I was especially pleased because I had heard of Villandry, I think in a Nigella Lawson book, well before we moved to London. When I went for my first job interview in the fall, I showed up early and walked around the neighbourhood. I spotted the restaurant and sighed, thinking that I would never get to go somewhere like that. But now I’ve been, and I loved it.
On the way back home from the restaurant, we ran into some people Andrew knew from the bank, and we went for a drink with them around the corner. I love seeing the reactions of people when they see Andrew. It was just the same at Barnes & Noble. They absolutely light up; they are so happy to see him. I felt like I was being escorted by a movie star. But then I always feel that lucky to be with Andrew.
Saturday was another fantastic day. We had a leisurely breakfast, Andrew went for a run, and then we headed into town. We went to the Tate Britain gallery, where I went just a few weeks ago with Elise. I wanted to take Andrew because he hadn’t been before, and the museum just put on display two Pre-Raphaelite paintings on loan from a museum in Puerto Rico. One of the paintings was Flaming June, which is one of my favourites. It was spectacular in “real life,” much more beautiful even than all the posters I’d seen of it (including one I hung on the walls of all my dorm rooms and apartments in Gainesville). The way the artist (Frederic, Lord Leighton) painted the folds of the transparent orange fabric was amazing. You can see all the curves of the body underneath. It was really quite breathtaking. And I could finally see the setting of the painting. The top is usually cropped in posters, and in the actual painting, you can see that the sleeping woman is outside on a terrace overlooking the sea at sunset.
The other painting was a huge mural, probably 10 feet high and 20 feet long, of the death of King Arthur, by Edward Burne-Jones. I’ve always loved his paintings. They are easily recognisable by the uniform beauty of the women; they are always tall and lithe, with calm features and faraway looks on their pale faces. If I were to inhabit a painting, I might choose a Burne-Jones work. The King Arthur painting was spectacular to see, for both its size and its beauty. The colours were rich jewel tones in sharp contrast to his usual muted palette, and the details of the clothing, architecture and gardens were stunning. Hanging in the same room as the mural were several of the artist’s drawings, and it was neat to see the progression from sketch to finished work.
Andrew is a big fan of sculpture, and the Tate was also showing a special exhibition of neoclassical sculptures that were collected by Englishmen in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. They were beautiful: lots of nymphs and maidens, busts of political figures, and mythical scenes. My favourite was a sculpture of a girl in a Turkish slave market. The chains around the girls ankles made her appear even more delicate and beautiful. And it’s amazing that working with such a solid material as marble, sculptors can capture such fragility.
But before we saw any of the art, we went to the museum café, in a room covered in a gorgeous, fantastical mural with knights on horseback chasing unicorns and toga-clad children cavorting with unicorns, plus, strangely, an Oxbridge undergraduate wearing a straw boater riding a bicycle. It was all set in a landscape that veered from classical woodland to pagoda-dotted hillsides and ruin-filled valleys. It was fun to look at as we enjoyed our afternoon tea with little sandwiches and pastries. The whole afternoon made me remember why I love England.
Which leads quite nicely into our Sunday activity, which was a trip up to Bedfordshire to visit a St. George’s Day festival with Amy and Don. St. George (of dragon fame) is the patron saint of England, and his saint’s day is the 23rd of April. It has become somewhat controversial, because many people in England fear any hint of nationalism or patriotism, but the current government is promoting those very notions, and so this year there were more St. George’s Day festivities than usual, I gather. At any rate, English Heritage was proud to celebrate St. George, and they put on a festival at Wrest Park. We took the train up there in the morning fog (that turned into the afternoon fog and then the evening fog…) and got a taxi to the park. There is a huge house there, but the real feature is the park and gardens. We only saw a little bit of the park because the weather was not great, but what we saw was green and beautiful.
The festival was spread out over the lawns. There were arenas for medieval fair-style shows (juggling, acrobatics, that sort of thing), vendors selling family trees on fake parchment, pewter goblets, and, because it’s England, a beer tent. I must admit, after shivering in the cold and the damp, it felt nice to sit in the beer tent and share some cider and roast pork sandwiches with the crew. We watched a show revolving around a bed of nails and audience participation (I can’t hear you…When I say St. George, I want you to cheer!) and a pageant featuring St. George on horseback and some lucky person in an awesome dragon costume. We also saw a falconry display and lots of soldiers dressed in uniforms from throughout Britain’s history. It was pretty cool! Even Amy got over her cynicism and had a good time. Afterwards, we found a nearby pub for some more cider and a village pig roast, then it was back to London and back to the work week. Phew!
I started the weekend by meeting my friend Courtney (of the London Gator club, for which she is going to hand over responsibility to me!) for a drink at a nearby trendy bar. I hadn’t seen her in ages, and it was good to catch up and hear what she’s been up in the past few months. I also got to meet a couple of her friends. It was so nice to be with a group of girls. I realized yesterday that unless I make a special trip to see the receptionist at work and have a 30-second conversation with her about the weather or something, I never get to talk to anyone female in the course of a normal day. That can’t be healthy. But I had a lovely time with Courtney and her friends and enjoyed my strawberry Tom Collins.
After that, I was off to meet Andrew for dinner at Villandry. We had reservations for the special London Restaurant Week menu, where you get a three-course meal for just £25. Marvellous. I started with a nice charcuterie platter with various salamis and hams and some incredible celeriac remoulade, while Andrew had a seafood bisque that arrived in a copper saucepan, from which the waitress poured the soup into a warmed tureen at the table. Then I had chicken paillard with arugula salad and red pepper relish. Andrew had steamed sea bass with tapenade and roasted potatoes. Finally, I had a flourless chocolate cake and Andrew went for the lemon tart. It was utterly fabulous. I was especially pleased because I had heard of Villandry, I think in a Nigella Lawson book, well before we moved to London. When I went for my first job interview in the fall, I showed up early and walked around the neighbourhood. I spotted the restaurant and sighed, thinking that I would never get to go somewhere like that. But now I’ve been, and I loved it.
On the way back home from the restaurant, we ran into some people Andrew knew from the bank, and we went for a drink with them around the corner. I love seeing the reactions of people when they see Andrew. It was just the same at Barnes & Noble. They absolutely light up; they are so happy to see him. I felt like I was being escorted by a movie star. But then I always feel that lucky to be with Andrew.
Saturday was another fantastic day. We had a leisurely breakfast, Andrew went for a run, and then we headed into town. We went to the Tate Britain gallery, where I went just a few weeks ago with Elise. I wanted to take Andrew because he hadn’t been before, and the museum just put on display two Pre-Raphaelite paintings on loan from a museum in Puerto Rico. One of the paintings was Flaming June, which is one of my favourites. It was spectacular in “real life,” much more beautiful even than all the posters I’d seen of it (including one I hung on the walls of all my dorm rooms and apartments in Gainesville). The way the artist (Frederic, Lord Leighton) painted the folds of the transparent orange fabric was amazing. You can see all the curves of the body underneath. It was really quite breathtaking. And I could finally see the setting of the painting. The top is usually cropped in posters, and in the actual painting, you can see that the sleeping woman is outside on a terrace overlooking the sea at sunset.
The other painting was a huge mural, probably 10 feet high and 20 feet long, of the death of King Arthur, by Edward Burne-Jones. I’ve always loved his paintings. They are easily recognisable by the uniform beauty of the women; they are always tall and lithe, with calm features and faraway looks on their pale faces. If I were to inhabit a painting, I might choose a Burne-Jones work. The King Arthur painting was spectacular to see, for both its size and its beauty. The colours were rich jewel tones in sharp contrast to his usual muted palette, and the details of the clothing, architecture and gardens were stunning. Hanging in the same room as the mural were several of the artist’s drawings, and it was neat to see the progression from sketch to finished work.
Andrew is a big fan of sculpture, and the Tate was also showing a special exhibition of neoclassical sculptures that were collected by Englishmen in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. They were beautiful: lots of nymphs and maidens, busts of political figures, and mythical scenes. My favourite was a sculpture of a girl in a Turkish slave market. The chains around the girls ankles made her appear even more delicate and beautiful. And it’s amazing that working with such a solid material as marble, sculptors can capture such fragility.
But before we saw any of the art, we went to the museum café, in a room covered in a gorgeous, fantastical mural with knights on horseback chasing unicorns and toga-clad children cavorting with unicorns, plus, strangely, an Oxbridge undergraduate wearing a straw boater riding a bicycle. It was all set in a landscape that veered from classical woodland to pagoda-dotted hillsides and ruin-filled valleys. It was fun to look at as we enjoyed our afternoon tea with little sandwiches and pastries. The whole afternoon made me remember why I love England.
Which leads quite nicely into our Sunday activity, which was a trip up to Bedfordshire to visit a St. George’s Day festival with Amy and Don. St. George (of dragon fame) is the patron saint of England, and his saint’s day is the 23rd of April. It has become somewhat controversial, because many people in England fear any hint of nationalism or patriotism, but the current government is promoting those very notions, and so this year there were more St. George’s Day festivities than usual, I gather. At any rate, English Heritage was proud to celebrate St. George, and they put on a festival at Wrest Park. We took the train up there in the morning fog (that turned into the afternoon fog and then the evening fog…) and got a taxi to the park. There is a huge house there, but the real feature is the park and gardens. We only saw a little bit of the park because the weather was not great, but what we saw was green and beautiful.
The festival was spread out over the lawns. There were arenas for medieval fair-style shows (juggling, acrobatics, that sort of thing), vendors selling family trees on fake parchment, pewter goblets, and, because it’s England, a beer tent. I must admit, after shivering in the cold and the damp, it felt nice to sit in the beer tent and share some cider and roast pork sandwiches with the crew. We watched a show revolving around a bed of nails and audience participation (I can’t hear you…When I say St. George, I want you to cheer!) and a pageant featuring St. George on horseback and some lucky person in an awesome dragon costume. We also saw a falconry display and lots of soldiers dressed in uniforms from throughout Britain’s history. It was pretty cool! Even Amy got over her cynicism and had a good time. Afterwards, we found a nearby pub for some more cider and a village pig roast, then it was back to London and back to the work week. Phew!
Monday, April 14, 2008
Settling nicely
It's been a busy month for both of us here, but there hasn't been all that much blog-worthy activity. We're both busy (and mostly happy) with job stuff. Andrew just started today as the branch manager at a Barclays near our flat, which is fantastic. He's been working really hard, and his managers have noticed. I'm working on another round of job applications, but I don't feel too bad about my current job, so there's not too much stress there. I've been going to ballet every week, and Andrew's running five times a week and going to karate. We spend a lot of time on the weekends with Amy and Don. We all went out for Mexican food the other night, which was a blast.
Yesterday, Andrew and I took a long walk and went to a garden festival, where we got to see lots of pretty flowers, walk through a hedgerow maze, and watch a sheep shearing demonstration. On the way home, we stopped at a country pub, and we found a lovely forest to walk through that felt like it was straight out of a storybook. Speaking of books, we've both been reading a lot lately. Andrew's on an Orwell kick, and I've just about worked my way through all the classics at Enfield library. I'm on Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh. That just leaves some P.G. Wodehouse; then I'll have to find a bigger library!
On the taking-advantage-of-living-in-England front, a couple weeks ago, we went to the Natural History Museum after hours to see a wildlife photography exhibit and have some wine and tapas in the giant hall with a big dinosaur display. We're going to see a ballet in a few weeks at the Royal Opera House. This Friday, we're going to a fancy restaurant for a London Restaurant Week deal, and the weekend after that, we're going for a weekend break to Oxford. We've booked a really nice bed and breakfast, and we're having a romantic dinner on the river, and we're going to Blenheim Palace. Shortly after that, Robert and Diane will arrive and we'll all go to Ireland for a few days, and the summer will follow shortly thereafter (finger crossed for drier weather!)
Yesterday, Andrew and I took a long walk and went to a garden festival, where we got to see lots of pretty flowers, walk through a hedgerow maze, and watch a sheep shearing demonstration. On the way home, we stopped at a country pub, and we found a lovely forest to walk through that felt like it was straight out of a storybook. Speaking of books, we've both been reading a lot lately. Andrew's on an Orwell kick, and I've just about worked my way through all the classics at Enfield library. I'm on Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh. That just leaves some P.G. Wodehouse; then I'll have to find a bigger library!
On the taking-advantage-of-living-in-England front, a couple weeks ago, we went to the Natural History Museum after hours to see a wildlife photography exhibit and have some wine and tapas in the giant hall with a big dinosaur display. We're going to see a ballet in a few weeks at the Royal Opera House. This Friday, we're going to a fancy restaurant for a London Restaurant Week deal, and the weekend after that, we're going for a weekend break to Oxford. We've booked a really nice bed and breakfast, and we're having a romantic dinner on the river, and we're going to Blenheim Palace. Shortly after that, Robert and Diane will arrive and we'll all go to Ireland for a few days, and the summer will follow shortly thereafter (finger crossed for drier weather!)
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Our first visitor
We had our first visitor last week! Elise, who is my oldest friend (we've been friends for about 17 years), came over for a few days during her spring break. We learned several things:
1. It is possible to host a guest, even in our tiny flat. We'll soon find out about the viability of hosting two guests, when Robert and Diane arrive in May.
2. Andrew and I already know London well enough to play tour guide and show people around, complete with humorous anecdotes.
3. Never, ever, ever fly US Airways. Elise was meant to leave New Haven last Saturday and arrive here Sunday morning. Because of weather, maintenance, and personnel glitches, she didn't get here until nearly midnight on Monday night! And her flight back was delayed by hours, too. Poor Elise.
But, even though her trip was cut short, we all had a fabulous time. We spent lots of quality time hanging around the flat, drinking tea and playing games. We also got to do some sightseeing. On Tuesday, which was my birthday, I had the day off, so Elise and I went into the city. We went to the Tate Britain museum, which I had seen once before, but many years ago. It's all British art, and the museum has particular strengths in William Blake, JMW Turner, and the Preraphaelites. There were some stunning Elizabethan portraits, too.
After our art fix, we walked through Pimlico to Westminster and toured Westminster Abbey. I had never been inside the abbey before because it's pretty expensive, but it was absolutely worth the cost of admission. I'm really glad I got to go with Elise, too. She and I have so many shared interests, and so much shared historical and cultural knowledge, that we make good museum buddies. We were both in awe at the abbey, partly because of the beauty of the architecture and the overwhelming weight of the building's historical significance, but mostly because of all the dead people. Poets corner was as moving as I'd hoped it would be. There we saw the tombs, or at least memorial plaques, of all the heavy hitters of English literature and drama. Elise nearly fainted when she saw Chaucer's tomb. The most fascinating tomb, though, for both of us, was Elizabeth I. We were lucky to be there on a Tuesday afternoon, because we had the room to ourselves for about ten minutes. We couldn't believe we were standing so close to her; it was almost a religious experience. Elizabeth is such a legendary character, but one who actually existed; it was like being able to see the tomb of Frodo Baggins or something. Well, I guess Frodo wouldn't actually have a tomb because he sailed away to the undying lands, but you know what I mean. It was special.
After the abbey, we walked along the river all the way down to Borough Market, where we met Andrew, Amy, and Don for a fantastic tapas meal. Andrew and I had tried to eat there before, but there was a two-and-a-half-hour wait. On my birthday, we got there early and snagged a great table. Andrew kept ordering food and wine for us, and we all had a great time. The food was phenomenal, too. We had thin slices of chorizo and iberico ham, fried goats cheese with honey, shrimp cooked in garlic butter, a nice, peppery green salad, lots of tasty bread, almonds, and olives. For dessert, we had creme catalan, which is basically creme brulee, but with cinnamon, rice pudding, and a sort of flan. How do you say delicious in Spanish?
The rest of Elise's trip was fun, too. Andrew and I had to work, so Elise did some sightseeing on her own: the Tower, the British Museum, the National Gallery. In the evenings, we did some tasty cooking, showed Elise our grocery store, and had some much-needed heart-to-heart conversations. Sometimes you just need to talk to an old friend to figure things out. She left on Friday morning, and Andrew and I have been resting this weekend. You don't get a lot of sleep when Elise is around!
So, for anyone who is considering coming to visit us: we're all ready for you! But make your reservations early, because after such success, I'm sure we'll be filling up soon :-)
1. It is possible to host a guest, even in our tiny flat. We'll soon find out about the viability of hosting two guests, when Robert and Diane arrive in May.
2. Andrew and I already know London well enough to play tour guide and show people around, complete with humorous anecdotes.
3. Never, ever, ever fly US Airways. Elise was meant to leave New Haven last Saturday and arrive here Sunday morning. Because of weather, maintenance, and personnel glitches, she didn't get here until nearly midnight on Monday night! And her flight back was delayed by hours, too. Poor Elise.
But, even though her trip was cut short, we all had a fabulous time. We spent lots of quality time hanging around the flat, drinking tea and playing games. We also got to do some sightseeing. On Tuesday, which was my birthday, I had the day off, so Elise and I went into the city. We went to the Tate Britain museum, which I had seen once before, but many years ago. It's all British art, and the museum has particular strengths in William Blake, JMW Turner, and the Preraphaelites. There were some stunning Elizabethan portraits, too.
After our art fix, we walked through Pimlico to Westminster and toured Westminster Abbey. I had never been inside the abbey before because it's pretty expensive, but it was absolutely worth the cost of admission. I'm really glad I got to go with Elise, too. She and I have so many shared interests, and so much shared historical and cultural knowledge, that we make good museum buddies. We were both in awe at the abbey, partly because of the beauty of the architecture and the overwhelming weight of the building's historical significance, but mostly because of all the dead people. Poets corner was as moving as I'd hoped it would be. There we saw the tombs, or at least memorial plaques, of all the heavy hitters of English literature and drama. Elise nearly fainted when she saw Chaucer's tomb. The most fascinating tomb, though, for both of us, was Elizabeth I. We were lucky to be there on a Tuesday afternoon, because we had the room to ourselves for about ten minutes. We couldn't believe we were standing so close to her; it was almost a religious experience. Elizabeth is such a legendary character, but one who actually existed; it was like being able to see the tomb of Frodo Baggins or something. Well, I guess Frodo wouldn't actually have a tomb because he sailed away to the undying lands, but you know what I mean. It was special.
After the abbey, we walked along the river all the way down to Borough Market, where we met Andrew, Amy, and Don for a fantastic tapas meal. Andrew and I had tried to eat there before, but there was a two-and-a-half-hour wait. On my birthday, we got there early and snagged a great table. Andrew kept ordering food and wine for us, and we all had a great time. The food was phenomenal, too. We had thin slices of chorizo and iberico ham, fried goats cheese with honey, shrimp cooked in garlic butter, a nice, peppery green salad, lots of tasty bread, almonds, and olives. For dessert, we had creme catalan, which is basically creme brulee, but with cinnamon, rice pudding, and a sort of flan. How do you say delicious in Spanish?
The rest of Elise's trip was fun, too. Andrew and I had to work, so Elise did some sightseeing on her own: the Tower, the British Museum, the National Gallery. In the evenings, we did some tasty cooking, showed Elise our grocery store, and had some much-needed heart-to-heart conversations. Sometimes you just need to talk to an old friend to figure things out. She left on Friday morning, and Andrew and I have been resting this weekend. You don't get a lot of sleep when Elise is around!
So, for anyone who is considering coming to visit us: we're all ready for you! But make your reservations early, because after such success, I'm sure we'll be filling up soon :-)
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Living it up in London
Now that we've been in London for six months, we're starting to feel somewhat at home. Our jobs have gotten busy, and I've been going to ballet and Andrew to karate once a week. We've settled into routines with cooking and chores around the flat, made regular trips to the library, and learned where to buy everything we need. Since we've reached this level of everyday comfort, we've had the freedom to branch out and try to take advantage of living in London. Sometimes that just means meeting up for a pint of cider in an old-fashioned pub after work. Sometimes it means going out to a fancy bar with friends. And sometimes it means doing touristy stuff in a local way.
Several weeks ago, Andrew was doing a training session in the city, so after work we met at Piccadilly Circus with the plan of going out to dinner. We wanted to try a Spanish place near Borough Market, but instead of jumping on the Tube with all the rush hour crowds, we decided to walk. It was a very touristy walk past many of the major London sights, including Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and St. Paul's Cathedral, and we enjoyed seeing all of those things, but because we had seen them before and knew exactly where we were going, we could afford to just enjoy each other's company in a glorious setting without having to pay all of our attention to what we were walking past. It took us about an hour to walk all the way across central London, and when we got to the market, the Spanish place was packed but we found a fantastic seafood restaurant instead.
More recently, I decided to plan ahead a little bit and book tickets to some of the special museum exhibits around town. We have tickets to a photography exhibit after hours, including dinner, for later this month. I'll report on that later. My major victory, though, was scoring evening tickets to see the First Emperor exhibit at the British Museum. It has been nearly sold out since before it opened, but we got two of the last tickets available.
We felt very special showing up to the museum on a Sunday evening, long after the crowds had left. We walked through the echoing entrance hall and into the stunning atrium that used to be an open courtyard but is now covered by a huge glass dome. In the very center of this round space is the old reading room of the British Library, which is reserved for special exhibitions like this one. As we entered, we caught a glimpse of the old bookcases covering the round walls, stacked at least four stories high. The exhibit was set inside the reading room with plenty of space around the edges for people to move among the shelves and still get to the books. When we got inside, I looked up, as I always do in big public spaces, and I wasn't disappointed by the spectacular roseate design on the ceiling high above.
The exhibit was amazing, from both an entertainment perspective and a curatorial one. We got a very good overview of early Chinese history, and I was able to fill in some of the gaps with what I remembered from my Chinese history class at UF. The historical background took up the first part of the exhibit, where we got to see 2500-year-old weapons, drinking vessels, jewelry, and sculpture.
Then we moved on to learn more about the emperor, Qin Shihuangdi, who was the first to gather large swathes of what is now China into a single empire. He started the Qin dynasty (pronounced "chin," and supposedly where the name China came from) in 221 BC, when he was still a very young man. He built dozens of ornate palaces and instituted laws and systems that we still use today. He worked to standardize industrial production, the Chinese alphabet, and systems of currency and measurement. And, from the day he took power, he started building his physical legacy, a mountain-shaped underground tomb near Xi'an that has never been opened because of legends about its defenses, including rivers of mercury (modern scientists have confirmed that the soil around the funereal mound is indeed abnormally high in mercury content).
All around the tomb, he had legions of terra cotta sculptures of soldiers in battle formation buried to protect him after death. The first of the terra cotta soldiers was discovered by a farmer in 1979, and archaeologists have discovered thousands of the life-size sculptures since then. This exhibit is a really big deal because it's the first time so many of the soldiers have been sent overseas. But before we got to the soldiers, we learned about how the emperor's palaces were constructed and how the technology used to create terra cotta roof and floor tiles for the palaces was adapted to create these intricate, lifelike sculptures. Then we turned a corner, and there they were, about two dozen six-foot high soldiers, some with fragments of brightly colored paint still clinging to their surfaces. Each one looked different. You could tell what roles they were meant to play in the army and their rank. Generals had full armor and fancy hairstyles; archers had light armor; cavalry riders held their arms out to take the reins; terra cotta horses pulled chariots; acrobats, dancers, and clowns performed tricks to amuse the troops. Each face looked like that of a real person, with a life story. The faces even reflected the geographic and demographic diversity of the empire. And every face showed the determination of these soldiers to protect and glorify their emperor for all eternity.
After the weight of so much history, it felt a little weird to go back outside to the quiet streets, but we walked for a little while and traded impressions, then found a place to get some delicious Chinese treats for a late supper. Then it was back on the train home...just a normal day in London.
Several weeks ago, Andrew was doing a training session in the city, so after work we met at Piccadilly Circus with the plan of going out to dinner. We wanted to try a Spanish place near Borough Market, but instead of jumping on the Tube with all the rush hour crowds, we decided to walk. It was a very touristy walk past many of the major London sights, including Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and St. Paul's Cathedral, and we enjoyed seeing all of those things, but because we had seen them before and knew exactly where we were going, we could afford to just enjoy each other's company in a glorious setting without having to pay all of our attention to what we were walking past. It took us about an hour to walk all the way across central London, and when we got to the market, the Spanish place was packed but we found a fantastic seafood restaurant instead.
More recently, I decided to plan ahead a little bit and book tickets to some of the special museum exhibits around town. We have tickets to a photography exhibit after hours, including dinner, for later this month. I'll report on that later. My major victory, though, was scoring evening tickets to see the First Emperor exhibit at the British Museum. It has been nearly sold out since before it opened, but we got two of the last tickets available.
We felt very special showing up to the museum on a Sunday evening, long after the crowds had left. We walked through the echoing entrance hall and into the stunning atrium that used to be an open courtyard but is now covered by a huge glass dome. In the very center of this round space is the old reading room of the British Library, which is reserved for special exhibitions like this one. As we entered, we caught a glimpse of the old bookcases covering the round walls, stacked at least four stories high. The exhibit was set inside the reading room with plenty of space around the edges for people to move among the shelves and still get to the books. When we got inside, I looked up, as I always do in big public spaces, and I wasn't disappointed by the spectacular roseate design on the ceiling high above.
The exhibit was amazing, from both an entertainment perspective and a curatorial one. We got a very good overview of early Chinese history, and I was able to fill in some of the gaps with what I remembered from my Chinese history class at UF. The historical background took up the first part of the exhibit, where we got to see 2500-year-old weapons, drinking vessels, jewelry, and sculpture.
Then we moved on to learn more about the emperor, Qin Shihuangdi, who was the first to gather large swathes of what is now China into a single empire. He started the Qin dynasty (pronounced "chin," and supposedly where the name China came from) in 221 BC, when he was still a very young man. He built dozens of ornate palaces and instituted laws and systems that we still use today. He worked to standardize industrial production, the Chinese alphabet, and systems of currency and measurement. And, from the day he took power, he started building his physical legacy, a mountain-shaped underground tomb near Xi'an that has never been opened because of legends about its defenses, including rivers of mercury (modern scientists have confirmed that the soil around the funereal mound is indeed abnormally high in mercury content).
All around the tomb, he had legions of terra cotta sculptures of soldiers in battle formation buried to protect him after death. The first of the terra cotta soldiers was discovered by a farmer in 1979, and archaeologists have discovered thousands of the life-size sculptures since then. This exhibit is a really big deal because it's the first time so many of the soldiers have been sent overseas. But before we got to the soldiers, we learned about how the emperor's palaces were constructed and how the technology used to create terra cotta roof and floor tiles for the palaces was adapted to create these intricate, lifelike sculptures. Then we turned a corner, and there they were, about two dozen six-foot high soldiers, some with fragments of brightly colored paint still clinging to their surfaces. Each one looked different. You could tell what roles they were meant to play in the army and their rank. Generals had full armor and fancy hairstyles; archers had light armor; cavalry riders held their arms out to take the reins; terra cotta horses pulled chariots; acrobats, dancers, and clowns performed tricks to amuse the troops. Each face looked like that of a real person, with a life story. The faces even reflected the geographic and demographic diversity of the empire. And every face showed the determination of these soldiers to protect and glorify their emperor for all eternity.
After the weight of so much history, it felt a little weird to go back outside to the quiet streets, but we walked for a little while and traded impressions, then found a place to get some delicious Chinese treats for a late supper. Then it was back on the train home...just a normal day in London.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Springtime in bloom
I've seen some beautiful spring flowers in my day. Tallahassee and Blacksburg, in particular, put on quite a show. But nothing prepared me for the profusion of blossoms in London, and it isn't even technically spring yet! The snowdrops came first, little white bells dangling from verdant stalks.
They were followed by the crocuses in stark white, bright lemon, deep purple, and vibrant violet stripes with orange centers.
Over the last few weeks, the flowering trees and shrubs have developed little buds with magenta tips, and they are starting to unfurl. In Regent's Park, I found a grove of cherry trees with pale blossoms, looking like a pinky haze skimming the surface of the grass. The forsythia is shooting upwards with yellow starlike flowers, and here and there, miniature irises are starting to pop up.
And everywhere, covering nearly every available spot of grass in the city, are daffodils. There are white daffofils, yellow daffodils, white daffodils with orange centers. They congregate amongst the roots of trees and luxuriate in the open sunshine. They sway and nod in the breeze and follow the movement of the sun with their merry heads. I've been tracking their progress for weeks, since I saw the first snowdrops in the park and noticed, slowly, like a mushroom hunter picking out his quarry from amongst the camouflaging leaves, the green stems peeking through the grass, promising daffodils to come. They burst all at once, suddenly, blanketing the grey city in much-needed colour, and I've been enjoying their cheerful display ever since.
And everywhere, covering nearly every available spot of grass in the city, are daffodils. There are white daffofils, yellow daffodils, white daffodils with orange centers. They congregate amongst the roots of trees and luxuriate in the open sunshine. They sway and nod in the breeze and follow the movement of the sun with their merry heads. I've been tracking their progress for weeks, since I saw the first snowdrops in the park and noticed, slowly, like a mushroom hunter picking out his quarry from amongst the camouflaging leaves, the green stems peeking through the grass, promising daffodils to come. They burst all at once, suddenly, blanketing the grey city in much-needed colour, and I've been enjoying their cheerful display ever since.
[The squirrel is for Nicholas :-) ]
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Mussels in Brussels
Last weekend, Andrew and I went on a mini-break to Brussels, Belgium. We met after work at St. Pancras station, which has just been renovated and restored to its Victorian-era wrought-iron-and-glass glory. The main terminal has a soaring barrel ceiling of glass panels, and we could see a little bit of the sunset through it as we stood and sipped glasses of champagne at the bar before boarding the train. It only took two hours for the Eurostar to whisk us under the English Channel, through northern France, and into Belgium. While not quite luxurious, it was at least as comfortable as an airplane, without the security hassle or pesky CO2 emissions. Besides, the retro feel of the whole enterprise was quite glamorous.
We arrived in Brussels with the familiar sense of anticipation we felt this summer each time we got to a new city. Confidently, we strolled through the station to find the subway that would take us to our hotel, but it took about ten minutes before we could even find the ticket machine. Then twenty minutes to figure out that the machine wouldn't take our card or the euro bills we got from the ATM. Then another ten minutes to find a place where we could get change. Okay, okay, we told ourselves. This is fine. So there aren't any signs in English, even though this is the capital city of the European Union and everyone speaks English. No worries. We finally got our tickets and went down to catch the subway. Well, I have been on many public transportation systems at this point, and I can confidently say that Brussels has the worst I've ever seen. And that includes Taltran.
We finally caught a subway, then waited ten minutes to catch another one, then emerged to find a bus to get us to the hotel. We found the right bus, but the driver said he was going in the other direction, so we crossed the street. Makes sense. right? Well, a bus pulled up there shortly, and it turned out it was the same driver. And he remembered me. And he yelled at me for wasting his time. (I don't know what it is with me and getting yelled at on public transportation.) I stomped off, and we found a map that showed that we were several blocks from the hotel, but we couldn't figure out how to catch the right bus, so we set off on foot. We walked and walked and walked. Way too far, as it turned out, but we just couldn't get our bearings. We found a boulevard with a name that looked familiar from the map (place names in Brussels are confusing, because everything is in French and Flemish), so we turned and walked down it. We soon ran out of sidewalk and came up against some metal barricades strung with copious amounts of rusty barbed wire. I thought we'd ended up in the trenches somehow! We looked around to see what was going on and noticed the stars and stripes streaming above a large, fortified building. Ah, the US embassy. The day before, a crowd had burned the US embassy in Serbia; I guess they were being extra careful at all the other embassies. We had to squeeze past the barbed wire and teeter on the edge of the busy street to get past the whole thing, with the armed guards eyeing us warily. In retrospect, I guess maybe we should have just flashed our passports or something. At any rate, we finally made it to the hotel and realized that it had taken us longer to get across half of Brussels than it had to get to Brussels from London!
However, once we got to the hotel, everything was perfect. The staff were super friendly and helpful, the hotel was beautiful and luxurious, and the concierge found a place for us to have dinner right away (it being nearly midnight at this point, this was quite a feat). We dropped off our bags and walked to the restaurant, which turned out to be utterly charming. We forgot about the struggles of the evening and settled in for a relaxing, romantic weekend.
The restaurant was a traditional Belgian affair, and the waiters only spoke French, but in a very friendly way. Andrew ordered for both of us, very quickly as the kitchen was about to close, and we ended up with two bottles of kriek, a delicious cherry-flavored beer. I had steamed mussels and french fries, and Andrew had carbonnade a la flamande, which is a braised beef stew. We ate and drank and laughed at the music (Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong played about ten times during our meal). We both leaned back in our chairs and soaked up the cozy atmosphere. The food was hearty and tasty, and the waiters showed me how to eat my mussels using an empty shell to pull the meat out of the other shells. They were tres impressed that I finished the whole pot! Afterwards, we walked back to the hotel and watched The Simpsons, which we have now seen in six countries and several languages! It's funny, no matter what language :-)
The next day, we slept in and then set out to see the city. We didn't have much on our list of things to see, which was part of the attraction of the city. We didn't have many specific expectations, so everything we found was a delightful surprise. We walked past the royal palace and over to the museum district, where we bought waffles from a street cart and ate them in a garden. Then we went to the modern art museum, which had several Rene Magritte paintings, a room full of James Ensors, and lots and lots of beautiful post-impressionist paintings by artists I'd never even heard of.
After the museum, we walked to the Place Grand Sablon, where we saw a beautiful church with delicate stonework and an antique market with stunning silver and jewels and ancient cookie and chocolate molds. I wanted to buy some, but they were heavy! The Grand Sablon is also where all the big chocolate shops are, and we did a bit of window shopping before we decided where to buy our chocolate later on. We had a nice lunch in a crowded cafe with art nouveau decorations. Victor Horta, one of the big art nouveau architects, lived in Brussels. We saw one of his buildings in the morning and got a spectacular view of the city from the rooftop terrace. I don't think he designed the cafe where we had lunch, but it was certainly inspired by his work. After lunch, we went to Wittamer to buy some fancy chocolates and a lovely little tea shop, where we got rose and cherry blossom loose leaf tea. For all the cultural significance Britons attach to tea, they don't offer a very wide selection of it in the shops; we had to go all the way to Belgium to find good tea. Then we went back to the hotel and, luxury of luxuries, we took a nap in the afternoon. Ahhhhhh.......
We woke up in time to eat our chocolates (flavored with earl grey tea, cinnamon, black pepper, lime, and amaretto) and get ready for dinner. It was fun to get really dressed up. I did my hair and fancy makeup and wore a nice dress and jewelry, and Andrew put on his nicest suit. We took a cab to the restaurant, another art nouveau stunner. Our table was in the middle of the restaurant, under a huge stained glass ceiling. We had comfy leather club chairs, and we were able to lean back and relax (a theme for the trip, you may have noticed). We got a bottle of white wine, which they kept cool in a little silver stand next to our table. The waiters were all wearing traditional Belgian aprons that looked like ships' sails, tied in the back with intricate knotted ropes. The overall atmosphere, though, was modern and sophisticated. We started with a couple of langoustines from the oyster bar. I'd never had a langoustine before, and I wanted to taste one. They are like miniature lobsters or giant shrimp, and they are sweet and juicy and delicious. Unfortunately, they are also rather difficult to get into, and we were cracking ourselves up trying to crack the shells open. We also got a nice little salad with the Belgian equivalent of prosciutto, and the waiters came by from time to time with baskets of warm bread and cold butter. Andrew got a gorgeous steak with french fries for dinner. His fries came in a little ceramic cone that kept them nice and hot. Very clever! I had sole meuniere, which is basically a fancy fried fillet of sole. It was cooked in lots of brown butter, and it was crispy and delicious. For dessert, Andrew had another waffle, with ice cream and chocolate sauce. I had ile flottante, which means floating island and is a little soft meringue floating in a sea of cold custard. Delicious! We had coffee that came with little squares of chocolate afterwards, and took a cab back to the hotel, stuffed and happy.
The next morning we got up early to see a little bit more of the city before we had to catch our train. We took a cab to the Grand Place, which is one of the main squares of the city. The place is lined with imposing baroque buildings with fantastical carvings of gargoyles and weird creatures. One of the buildings seemed to be covered in gold leaf. We found a cozy little restaurant with a roaring fire and had croissants and ham and cheese (like the continental breakfasts we had sometimes this summer) with fresh squeezed orange juice and delicious coffee, then walked around for a few minutes, caught a cab, and took the train back to London. It was a wonderful, wonderful weekend. We had just the right balance of food and culture and rest that we needed. Well done.
We arrived in Brussels with the familiar sense of anticipation we felt this summer each time we got to a new city. Confidently, we strolled through the station to find the subway that would take us to our hotel, but it took about ten minutes before we could even find the ticket machine. Then twenty minutes to figure out that the machine wouldn't take our card or the euro bills we got from the ATM. Then another ten minutes to find a place where we could get change. Okay, okay, we told ourselves. This is fine. So there aren't any signs in English, even though this is the capital city of the European Union and everyone speaks English. No worries. We finally got our tickets and went down to catch the subway. Well, I have been on many public transportation systems at this point, and I can confidently say that Brussels has the worst I've ever seen. And that includes Taltran.
We finally caught a subway, then waited ten minutes to catch another one, then emerged to find a bus to get us to the hotel. We found the right bus, but the driver said he was going in the other direction, so we crossed the street. Makes sense. right? Well, a bus pulled up there shortly, and it turned out it was the same driver. And he remembered me. And he yelled at me for wasting his time. (I don't know what it is with me and getting yelled at on public transportation.) I stomped off, and we found a map that showed that we were several blocks from the hotel, but we couldn't figure out how to catch the right bus, so we set off on foot. We walked and walked and walked. Way too far, as it turned out, but we just couldn't get our bearings. We found a boulevard with a name that looked familiar from the map (place names in Brussels are confusing, because everything is in French and Flemish), so we turned and walked down it. We soon ran out of sidewalk and came up against some metal barricades strung with copious amounts of rusty barbed wire. I thought we'd ended up in the trenches somehow! We looked around to see what was going on and noticed the stars and stripes streaming above a large, fortified building. Ah, the US embassy. The day before, a crowd had burned the US embassy in Serbia; I guess they were being extra careful at all the other embassies. We had to squeeze past the barbed wire and teeter on the edge of the busy street to get past the whole thing, with the armed guards eyeing us warily. In retrospect, I guess maybe we should have just flashed our passports or something. At any rate, we finally made it to the hotel and realized that it had taken us longer to get across half of Brussels than it had to get to Brussels from London!
However, once we got to the hotel, everything was perfect. The staff were super friendly and helpful, the hotel was beautiful and luxurious, and the concierge found a place for us to have dinner right away (it being nearly midnight at this point, this was quite a feat). We dropped off our bags and walked to the restaurant, which turned out to be utterly charming. We forgot about the struggles of the evening and settled in for a relaxing, romantic weekend.
The restaurant was a traditional Belgian affair, and the waiters only spoke French, but in a very friendly way. Andrew ordered for both of us, very quickly as the kitchen was about to close, and we ended up with two bottles of kriek, a delicious cherry-flavored beer. I had steamed mussels and french fries, and Andrew had carbonnade a la flamande, which is a braised beef stew. We ate and drank and laughed at the music (Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong played about ten times during our meal). We both leaned back in our chairs and soaked up the cozy atmosphere. The food was hearty and tasty, and the waiters showed me how to eat my mussels using an empty shell to pull the meat out of the other shells. They were tres impressed that I finished the whole pot! Afterwards, we walked back to the hotel and watched The Simpsons, which we have now seen in six countries and several languages! It's funny, no matter what language :-)
The next day, we slept in and then set out to see the city. We didn't have much on our list of things to see, which was part of the attraction of the city. We didn't have many specific expectations, so everything we found was a delightful surprise. We walked past the royal palace and over to the museum district, where we bought waffles from a street cart and ate them in a garden. Then we went to the modern art museum, which had several Rene Magritte paintings, a room full of James Ensors, and lots and lots of beautiful post-impressionist paintings by artists I'd never even heard of.
After the museum, we walked to the Place Grand Sablon, where we saw a beautiful church with delicate stonework and an antique market with stunning silver and jewels and ancient cookie and chocolate molds. I wanted to buy some, but they were heavy! The Grand Sablon is also where all the big chocolate shops are, and we did a bit of window shopping before we decided where to buy our chocolate later on. We had a nice lunch in a crowded cafe with art nouveau decorations. Victor Horta, one of the big art nouveau architects, lived in Brussels. We saw one of his buildings in the morning and got a spectacular view of the city from the rooftop terrace. I don't think he designed the cafe where we had lunch, but it was certainly inspired by his work. After lunch, we went to Wittamer to buy some fancy chocolates and a lovely little tea shop, where we got rose and cherry blossom loose leaf tea. For all the cultural significance Britons attach to tea, they don't offer a very wide selection of it in the shops; we had to go all the way to Belgium to find good tea. Then we went back to the hotel and, luxury of luxuries, we took a nap in the afternoon. Ahhhhhh.......
We woke up in time to eat our chocolates (flavored with earl grey tea, cinnamon, black pepper, lime, and amaretto) and get ready for dinner. It was fun to get really dressed up. I did my hair and fancy makeup and wore a nice dress and jewelry, and Andrew put on his nicest suit. We took a cab to the restaurant, another art nouveau stunner. Our table was in the middle of the restaurant, under a huge stained glass ceiling. We had comfy leather club chairs, and we were able to lean back and relax (a theme for the trip, you may have noticed). We got a bottle of white wine, which they kept cool in a little silver stand next to our table. The waiters were all wearing traditional Belgian aprons that looked like ships' sails, tied in the back with intricate knotted ropes. The overall atmosphere, though, was modern and sophisticated. We started with a couple of langoustines from the oyster bar. I'd never had a langoustine before, and I wanted to taste one. They are like miniature lobsters or giant shrimp, and they are sweet and juicy and delicious. Unfortunately, they are also rather difficult to get into, and we were cracking ourselves up trying to crack the shells open. We also got a nice little salad with the Belgian equivalent of prosciutto, and the waiters came by from time to time with baskets of warm bread and cold butter. Andrew got a gorgeous steak with french fries for dinner. His fries came in a little ceramic cone that kept them nice and hot. Very clever! I had sole meuniere, which is basically a fancy fried fillet of sole. It was cooked in lots of brown butter, and it was crispy and delicious. For dessert, Andrew had another waffle, with ice cream and chocolate sauce. I had ile flottante, which means floating island and is a little soft meringue floating in a sea of cold custard. Delicious! We had coffee that came with little squares of chocolate afterwards, and took a cab back to the hotel, stuffed and happy.
The next morning we got up early to see a little bit more of the city before we had to catch our train. We took a cab to the Grand Place, which is one of the main squares of the city. The place is lined with imposing baroque buildings with fantastical carvings of gargoyles and weird creatures. One of the buildings seemed to be covered in gold leaf. We found a cozy little restaurant with a roaring fire and had croissants and ham and cheese (like the continental breakfasts we had sometimes this summer) with fresh squeezed orange juice and delicious coffee, then walked around for a few minutes, caught a cab, and took the train back to London. It was a wonderful, wonderful weekend. We had just the right balance of food and culture and rest that we needed. Well done.
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