In mid-May, Robert and Diane Eaton, a formidable sibling duo, came to stay with us for a week and a half. They brought with them the most glorious weather, but as soon as they left it was back to gray skies, though now that it's actually summer we're having some sunshine again. Anyways, the nice weather started the day the Eatons left the US, and we spent that day with the Kiwis, having a picnic on Hampstead Heath, a huge, wild park on the highest point in London. From the top of the hill, we could see the whole city laid out at our feet. We brought blankets, ham and cheese and crackers, veggies, and strawberry shortcake, and the Kiwis brought duck and wild rice salad (I must get the recipe for that one) and Pimm's lemonade. Are you familiar with Pimm's? It's a flavored gin liqueur, although I couldn't really say what the flavor is. It's red flavor. You mix it with fizzy lemonade, mint, citrus, and cucumbers and serve it over as much ice as you can gather in this mostly ice-free land. It is at its best consumed on a picnic blanket. Do try it. We had a lovely time dining and Pimm's-ing and wandering around the "village" of Hampstead with the Kiwis. In fact, we had such a nice time, we decided to do much the same thing the next day with the Eatons.
They arrived on a Sunday morning, and we picked them up and brought them back to Enfield for another picnic in another park with another round of Pimm's lemonade (rather more of it this time). We had hummus and meats and cheeses and bread and olives and other lovely picnicky bits, and Diane and I lounged attractively on the picnic blanket while the menfolk played frisbee. Aaaahhhh.....
Over the course of the week, Andrew and I had to work but we met up with the Eatons for lunches, pints, and dinners. We had raucous and rock-ous evenings filled with card games and Guitar Hero (Robert brought a second guitar as a housewarming gift...good man!). One night we did our favorite Thames walk and went to our favorite tapas restaurant at Borough Market; another night we went to our local Indian; other nights we did pasta or more picnicky bits. Every meal, as I'm sure you can imagine, was accompanied by various delicious beverages. We have to show them the local specialities, don't you know.
Later in the week we all Easyjetted off to Dublin for a few days. Andrew is going to write about that, and I'll post it in a few days, hopefully. Once we got back, we had just one more night with Robert and Diane before they had to leave, and we took full advantage. We all went out to dinner at the Wolseley, where I had tea with Mommy back in September. We all dressed for the occasion and, I must say, we were all on fine form. It was one of the most satisfying dining experiences I've ever had. Some might accuse me of habitual overexaggeration when it comes to food, but I can't see any harm in enjoying life that much, can you?
The Wolseley is a grandiose space filled with leather chairs, shining silver, gilt mirrors and Chinese lacquered cabinetry. The food and service match the atmosphere. The staff were all very professional and attentive, but I think they had a good time with us, too, because I imagine we weren't like the typical clientele, and we were all pretty obviously enjoying ourselves. We had drinks to start with: gin martinis for the impressive Miss Eaton and for Andrew, a kir (white wine with cassis - black currant liqueur) for me. [Robert - what did you have?] I ordered some dressed Dorset crab for the table. It was separated into delicate, sweet white meat and creamy, rich brown meat, and it was the perfect amount; just a taster for everyone. I can't remember everything that everyone had for dinner, but there was a duck entree, a London-special salt beef sandwich, and a gorgeous steak. I had Wiener schnitzel, a first for me. It was delicious! I never really understood the appeal before, but it was amazingly tender and crisp on the edges and sweet and savory inside. We each had a glass of wine to match, and I felt very special when my glass of riesling (perfect with the schnitzel) came in a special little cut-glass goblet with a green bauble on the stem. It was beautiful, and the wine was lovely as well. We all enjoyed our meals and the comfortable setting and the heavy linens and real silver, and we giggled at the specialized cutlery and the funny little old-world flourishes of the waiters. It was all so different from going to a normal restaurant, either here or at home. We felt like movie stars. Dessert was the perfect finishing touch. Tiny glasses of dessert wine and rich pastries (I had linzertorte with dark chocolate and apricots) sent us off into the night as happy as could be. London is wonderful, but London in the company of people like Robert and Diane is unbeatable.
Of course, it wasn't too long until we received our next guests, but that is for another post. Soon. I promise.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
A trip to the ballet
I have a lot to write about! My last real post was about our trip to Oxford, but that was almost two months ago at this point. I'll start from there, though, and work my way forward. The first weekend in May was a bank holiday, as was the last weekend. On the first bank holiday, we had planned to go camping but the weather didn't cooperate. I realize the rain didn't keep us from camping last summer, but now that we can afford to be picky, we don't really want to camp in the cold and wet! So we stayed at home instead and relaxed. We've been doing that a lot lately. Work is so stressful that sometimes all we can manage to do on the weekends is a little lazy cooking and a few board games. So that's what we did on the bank holiday weekend, but on the Monday evening we got to enjoy one of my birthday presents from my parentses (both the genetic and the marital varieties). We went to see Sleeping Beauty performed by the Royal Ballet at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, and it was fabulous. The evening started out as a rather dodgy affair, as the charming French bistro where we made reservations turned out to be a not-very-classy tourist trap, as so many things are in Covent Garden. But then, we are worldly travelers used to the very finest in food and drink, so maybe we were just being snobby expecting the salad to be dressed and the steak to be chewable. We skipped dessert. Don't go to Chez Gerard.
But then we left the restaurant and walked over to the opera house, a mere 100 yards or so, which was good because I was breaking in my new high heels, and they didn't like the cobblestones! The opera house is a beautiful venue. You enter through a vast glassed-in atrium with a champagne bar downstairs. We went upstairs to find our seats, then spent some time watching the people in the atrium below. We were both a little disappointed that more people weren't dressed up, but we looked posh enough for the lot of them. After a quick glass of wine we headed to our seats for the performance. The inside of the opera house is over-the-top gorgeous, with red velvet and gilded trimmings everywhere. Our seats were up pretty high but near the center of the auditorium, and we were in the front row of our section, so we had a really good view not only of the stage but also of the audience below us. It was a packed house, and no wonder; it was a lovely production. The costumes and choreography were vintage, from a Royal Ballet performance in the 1950s. The orchestra played beautifully. I especially liked the trilling flutes. And, of course, the dancers were amazing, especially the ones doing the character pas de deux: the bluebirds, little red riding hood and the wolf, the princes and princesses, and the fairy godmothers. Andrew and I had a good time trying to piece together the story; apparently the Disney version is a bit different from the Tchaikovsky version.
I've been to two ballets with Andrew now, and I really enjoy it because I get to explain things to him, from intricate steps to stylistic subtleties to historical context, but it's also fun to hear the things he notices. He's an insightful audience member. I really like attending ballets, too, because I don't just see and hear the dancing; I can feel it in my muscles, imagining the movements of the dancers and translating the graceful, fluid motions into individual, named steps. It's a little like being able to pick out individual words from a conversation in a foreign language. It was inspiring, and I've felt the difference in my ballet classes ever since.
On that note, I've really been enjoying my weekly ballet classes, and I finally feel like I'm making some progress again, instead of just trying to catch up after the long period of not dancing while we were traveling, moving, and settling in. I love my teacher, and she is leaving soon, but I also love the teacher who is replacing her. There are several other girls in the class who are about my age and skill level, and I have a great time rolling my eyes and laughing with them and getting a good workout at the same time. Plus, every Wednesday when I emerge from the studio and walk to Farringdon Station I see the dome of St. Paul's rising up from the surrounding rooftops in the calm moonlight, and I know I'm in London and I wouldn't really wish to be anywhere else.
Next time on There and Back Again, an invasion by the Eatons!
But then we left the restaurant and walked over to the opera house, a mere 100 yards or so, which was good because I was breaking in my new high heels, and they didn't like the cobblestones! The opera house is a beautiful venue. You enter through a vast glassed-in atrium with a champagne bar downstairs. We went upstairs to find our seats, then spent some time watching the people in the atrium below. We were both a little disappointed that more people weren't dressed up, but we looked posh enough for the lot of them. After a quick glass of wine we headed to our seats for the performance. The inside of the opera house is over-the-top gorgeous, with red velvet and gilded trimmings everywhere. Our seats were up pretty high but near the center of the auditorium, and we were in the front row of our section, so we had a really good view not only of the stage but also of the audience below us. It was a packed house, and no wonder; it was a lovely production. The costumes and choreography were vintage, from a Royal Ballet performance in the 1950s. The orchestra played beautifully. I especially liked the trilling flutes. And, of course, the dancers were amazing, especially the ones doing the character pas de deux: the bluebirds, little red riding hood and the wolf, the princes and princesses, and the fairy godmothers. Andrew and I had a good time trying to piece together the story; apparently the Disney version is a bit different from the Tchaikovsky version.
I've been to two ballets with Andrew now, and I really enjoy it because I get to explain things to him, from intricate steps to stylistic subtleties to historical context, but it's also fun to hear the things he notices. He's an insightful audience member. I really like attending ballets, too, because I don't just see and hear the dancing; I can feel it in my muscles, imagining the movements of the dancers and translating the graceful, fluid motions into individual, named steps. It's a little like being able to pick out individual words from a conversation in a foreign language. It was inspiring, and I've felt the difference in my ballet classes ever since.
On that note, I've really been enjoying my weekly ballet classes, and I finally feel like I'm making some progress again, instead of just trying to catch up after the long period of not dancing while we were traveling, moving, and settling in. I love my teacher, and she is leaving soon, but I also love the teacher who is replacing her. There are several other girls in the class who are about my age and skill level, and I have a great time rolling my eyes and laughing with them and getting a good workout at the same time. Plus, every Wednesday when I emerge from the studio and walk to Farringdon Station I see the dome of St. Paul's rising up from the surrounding rooftops in the calm moonlight, and I know I'm in London and I wouldn't really wish to be anywhere else.
Next time on There and Back Again, an invasion by the Eatons!
Friday, May 23, 2008
GUEST POST: A Southern Gentleman and his Lady’s trip to the Big City
Welcome to what I hope will be a recurring special feature of this blog: the guest post. My parents went on a fabulous trip to New York earlier this month as a reward for Daddy being "whoa and spiffy" at his job (for those of you who don't know, he works for IBM, and he was recently awarded a patent!). He and Mommy wrote about their trip, as an "homage" to my blog, they said. I present it, in full, to you here:
The alarm clock rang at 4:30 Thursday morning, so that we could make a 6am departure from Tallahassee through Atlanta to New York LaGuardia. While we enjoy Linna and Walter’s company, I’m glad they didn’t join us, or we would have camped out at the Tallahassee airport and still awoken at 4:30 to make the 6am departure. We had packed the car the night before and dropped off Harry at the Puppy-Plaza hotel the day before where he dined daily on a specially prepared mélange of free-range turkey and rice infused with egg protein. Our flight through Atlanta was uneventful as we munched on our 7-grain cherry bit infused Kashi granola bars with our free tea (Lipton) and Delta diet cokes “Can I have the whole can, please?“
Upon arriving in New York, we gathered up our eclectic collection of bags and arranged for ground travel. Our taxi driver spoke fluent English, and smelled of curry, as he transported us to the Hilton hotel via a circuitous route to avoid “traffic” in Manhattan. We enjoyed the “no honking, $350 fine.” signs that were posted and ignored throughout the city. On our previous cruise to Alaska, we learned that unpacking a suitcase for an extended stay makes one feel more homey and civilized, so we unpacked before we set out to sample some of the local fare for our lunchtime victuals. The doorman insisted that we go to Carnegie Deli, aptly named for its close proximity to the famous music hall. It was sublime. The walls were lined with signed 8X10 photos of people that were marginally recognizable. We were seated at a table for 8 that was already occupied by a tourist and a businessman with his tie tucked into his shirt. The NY style cheesecake was teasing me from the windowed carousel. An assortment of pickles was placed before us. Linda recently fell off the diet coke wagon, so we both ordered diet cokes. I ordered the Hot Pastrami on rye and Linda ordered the Shrimp Salad “Are the shrimp fried?” I laughed at the size of the roast beef sandwich delivered to our dining companion and quickly apologized for laughing at his food. My sandwich was 8 inches tall filled with salted, cured, steaming meat, delicious with a bit of mustard. Linda’s salad was overwhelming and at the end of the meal, I asked when she was going to start eating. We skipped the cheesecake, feeling confident that it would not be our last offer of the tempting rich local speciality.
We walked a few blocks to the American Folk Art Museum and saw a goodly collection of Practical Art made by untrained artists. A lovely collection of quilts, carvings, signs, pottery and paintings were arranged by the curator, mostly by history and region. We then saw the special exhibition of Dargerism. Apparently in 1972, Mr. Darger died, and found in his home was a large collection of original art based on 2 child characters called the Vivian Girls who just happened to have male genitalia. He created this whole fantasy world with large drawings that current artist have chosen to emulate through paintings, video and photography. Our eyebrows and heads didn’t return to their normal, upright, unquestioning position until we exited the exhibition. I use the term exhibition as in exhibitionist…
A stroll through Central Park seemed appropriate where we came upon an historic Carousel. We were not the oldest riders on the gaily-decorated stallions! We encountered small school groups and Nannies with their charges ensconced in designer perambulators throughout the park. Puppies of all breeds, colors and sizes were in abundance, much to our collective delight!
Learning from our aforementioned trip to Alaska, we took advantage of having our Hotel room right in the city and went back to the room for a bit of a rest with the serenade of honking taxi cabs reaching our 22nd floor room. We soon got used to the big city noises.
For dinner, we took the subway “downtown” to the Meat Packing District and had a short walk to the “Spotted Pig,” a Mario Batali gastro pub in Greenwich Village. It was early and we were seated right away upstairs in a cozy corner booth where we could watch the bartender and the chef who prepared the “bar food” appetizers. “Jack and Coke” for me and a Mojito for Linda. Apparently Galiano sours are not a common drink in the Big Apple. We discussed being adventurous and ordering the herring appetizer, but a 2nd server came by and made a face, so she talked us into the “Devils on Horseback” for out first course - Pear and Prune wrapped in bacon and boiled in green tea. Lovely. We didn’t eat them all, so when another table of three aspiring actors was seated next to us, we let them try our last one and they ordered a plate for themselves.
I had Ramps for my salad with a fried duck egg on top, followed by a ginger infused beef salad for supper. Linda had a roasted beet and warm goat cheese salad and a colorful arrangement of local and seasonal veg for the entrée. The food, atmosphere and company were phenomenal, thanks largely to the open-minded influence of our progeny who have exposed us to all matter of interesting eatables and activities.
The next morning, we had an official IBM meeting to attend complete with the pre-printed name tags. “Hello, my name is David” and a big sit-down breakfast with other IBM award winners and their spouses. The speaker was one of the award winners and his job was to spend the allotted 15 minutes to meet the IRS requirements for the business expense deductions. An excellent speech that included the information that most of the major museums in New York are free to IBMers and their guests since IBM is a corporate sponsors of all the museums. Nice.
We walked to the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) to get in for free and avoid the lines. We took a vow to be “open minded” before we went in. We enjoyed most of the exhibits. The mono-color slabs of paint were silly. The “women’s studies” based art was a little too much “in your face.” The large Monet was cool. My favorite was a large 3 story foyer with a 18” fan hung from a 30 foot cord that just randomly blew around the room. The other really neat area was on the 2nd floor as you went up the escalator. Linda noticed that everyone ahead of us on the escalator was wearing black and white clothes. They had some special yellow lights that turned everything monochrome. All the colors were washed out. What was really neat was that many people walking through didn’t have any reaction to it. While discussing the lighting effects with a family of fellow museum goers, one of their party took a digital photo of her family in the light. When she entered the hall where usual light was restored, the photograph appeared in color. Hmm!? The sculptures in the outdoor courtyard were especially rewarding. One of our favorites was done by a sculptor with the last name of Rickey.
Then we set out to catch the subway down to the bottom of the island to go on our helicopter tour. We arrived early and a gentleman in a red windbreaker told us to get in line next to the building with the others. 20 minutes later a gentleman in a blue windbreaker come out with an official looking clipboard and started looking for someone. We had made a reservation for a flight that was about to take off, so I asked him if we were in the right line and apparently we were not, so he told us to go through the metal detector and he escorted us inside to a desk where we were told we each had to pay an additional $60 in fees and taxes for heliport fees. We waited for another 20 minutes while all the windbreakers had their pizza lunch. There were about 40 people working there in various roles: security, ground crew, pilots ( VIP lounge ), business managers, FAA, Port Authority, etc… It turns out that 3 different companies fly out of the same place and they try to steal each other’s patrons by putting them in the wrong lines. After a lengthy delay the safety video was played which told us about the 4 different kinds of seat belts that can be found in their helicopters. We were also given a yellow life vest pack to fit around our waists. When we finally went outside, we didn’t have to duck under the rotors, but it was fun to do anyway. The flight was about 12 minutes over the Hudson River and the Statue of Liberty, but it was very foggy and we couldn’t see much. We can check it off our list and it was on IBM’s dime, so… We got the requisite $20 photo of us next to the helicopter.
We took the subway a short two stops “uptown” to the World Trade Center site. Lots of tourists being respectful and solemn looking at a construction site. Weird. We walked through an old Episcopal church, that George Washington attended, right across the street from the Twin Towers that acted as a rest area for the rescue workers after the September 11 attacks. It was nice. Cots were still set up and lots of memorabilia about 9/11 was on display. It’s still hard to believe the shock from when the mammoth buildings actually fell down, and the horrible loss of life that occurred, but proof that “the world goes on” was strongly evident in the present scene…
Our 2nd nap of the weekend ensued when we returned to the Hotel.
I got to wear my new blue sports coat with big buttons for our evening excursions. We took a human powered bike taxi with a warming lap blanket to Broadway. It’s amazing how safe you feel knowing that a bus, taxi, police car, etc. wouldn’t dare hit a person on a bike. All he had to do was hold up his hand and the traffic stopped!!! He also told us about a place to get a pre-play drink and another place to get a post-play drink. We walked across the street from the theatre to Sardi’s for a drink - a classic small NY bar with regulars and a few tourists. I was getting drinks and Linda was getting a table. When I returned, she was in deep conversation with a nice lady from South Carolina. “I really like your shoes” was how that all started. They were going to Spamalot as well.
We were in the 2nd row and could really see all the facial expressions of the actors. They were having a good time and it was a truly silly, fun affair – even funnier than the Monty Python film. The actor who portrayed Sir Robin was Clay Aiken of American Idol fame. The cast also included an FSU alumnus. It was very entertaining and a thoroughly New York experience.
We took a stroll to the Piano bar recommended by our bicycle guide, but they didn’t have snacks so we went across the street to get a Tapas dinner. We had Manchego cheese, salads, chorizo, spicy fried potatoes and Clams Casino. All dishes were pronounced delicious
That was a full day.
Saturday, we slept late and decided to go out for brunch. We ended up at a diner type place named Lindy’s where we paid $60 for a very mediocre breakfast with “omelets” filled with canned mushrooms and unmelted American cheese food slices – not our finest meal. Curiously, french fries were served alongside the eggs where the unavailable grits should have resided.
The American Museum of Natural History was phenomenal! We’ve all seen pictures of the dinosaur bones in the front entry to the beautifully architected building, but the marvels inside were beyond words. Unfortunately, the museum has not seen fit to publish a volume highlighting its treasures in word and picture form, so the vast majority of our discoveries there remain in our imaginations and memories. After hours inside the museum, we were in great need of some fresh air and Central Park beckoned. We rented cruiser bikes with the intention of wheeling around a section or two of the huge urban greenway, but ended up riding around the entire perimeter of the park! We were proud of our endeavor, having to walk our one-speed bikes only near the very top of the aptly named Great Hill. We spied Lance Armstrong-attired riders with their expensive rides huffily struggling up the apex of the ascent so we didn’t feel bad about having to momentarily accompany our bicycles on foot.
Soft serve ice cream which was in abundance during the previous days excursions was not to be found, so after an exhaustive search for the delicate comfort treat, we tried to have tea at the newly refurbished Plaza Hotel, but we missed it by 15 minutes, having used our time in our failed crusade for a cooler snack. We settled for gourmet cheese and crackers procured from an International grocery store which we enjoyed at our leisure in our hotel room.
Chinese food was had for supper. Lucy Ho’s it was not, but it served as a good starter for the remainder of our evening activities. The Carnegie Club which we greatly anticipated enjoying for Sinatra night, turned out to be a Smoking Club. The unbreathable fog of acrid smoke that enveloped us as we opened the establishment’s door lived up to the purpose of the club’s name.
Went back to the “Don’t Tell Your Mama,” piano bar our bicycle driver told us about the night before, and after waiting a short while in the cold air outside, we were beckoned into its cozy environs where we joined in the ersatz community of theater goers and locals and joined in the singing of show tunes by our waiters and bartenders who all had experience or high hopes of singing on the Great White Way. Again, Galiano was not to be found, but a pineappely sweet Rum Punch served nicely.
Sunday morning arrived with more frigid temperatures, but the rain promised for the day never materialized. We inched our way through a maze of bicycles gathered to begin the Five Borough Bike Race and ventured to St Patrick’s Cathedral for Mass. The gothic architecture of the 160-year old church befitted its role as host of the Pope’s visit just two week’s prior. Mass was celebrated in a decidedly spare manner considering its noble setting. We thought about taking a tour of Brooklyn, but we didn’t know what to look at, so we settled for a bit of breakfast at Starbucks and a shortened tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Having limited time to discover the museum’s many treasures we made a beeline for the Impressionists. Afterwards, we meandered through a maze of Egyptian pyramid exhibits, apparently what is not in the British Museum in London, only to discover that the sculptural exhibit we sought was not open for the day. On to the gift shop where we purchased two posters of art to hang as souvenirs of our New York holiday upon arriving home.
We had time for a bit of a stroll down Park Avenue and a quintessential diner for lunch. The chili burger was wonderfully and pungently spiced and the free range burger expertly prepared. David saved room for a final, last-minute slice of New York cheesecake and Linda finally got a cone with a velvety swirl of soft serve vanilla. Yum!
Our time up and our tour of the samples of the Big Apple complete, we swooped into our hotel and picked up our luggage and hailed a cab back to the airport. The flights were uneventful with a somewhat annoying 90 minute delay in our departure from our Atlanta connection due to a lack of flight attendant available for our 45 minute, no service flight to Tallahassee.
We arrived home about midnight, exhausted and fulfilled from our adventure. The next day we knew we were truly home when we picked up Harry, clean and poofy. And of course we appreciated coming home to a clean house which would be ready for our first wave of visitors in three days…
The alarm clock rang at 4:30 Thursday morning, so that we could make a 6am departure from Tallahassee through Atlanta to New York LaGuardia. While we enjoy Linna and Walter’s company, I’m glad they didn’t join us, or we would have camped out at the Tallahassee airport and still awoken at 4:30 to make the 6am departure. We had packed the car the night before and dropped off Harry at the Puppy-Plaza hotel the day before where he dined daily on a specially prepared mélange of free-range turkey and rice infused with egg protein. Our flight through Atlanta was uneventful as we munched on our 7-grain cherry bit infused Kashi granola bars with our free tea (Lipton) and Delta diet cokes “Can I have the whole can, please?“
Upon arriving in New York, we gathered up our eclectic collection of bags and arranged for ground travel. Our taxi driver spoke fluent English, and smelled of curry, as he transported us to the Hilton hotel via a circuitous route to avoid “traffic” in Manhattan. We enjoyed the “no honking, $350 fine.” signs that were posted and ignored throughout the city. On our previous cruise to Alaska, we learned that unpacking a suitcase for an extended stay makes one feel more homey and civilized, so we unpacked before we set out to sample some of the local fare for our lunchtime victuals. The doorman insisted that we go to Carnegie Deli, aptly named for its close proximity to the famous music hall. It was sublime. The walls were lined with signed 8X10 photos of people that were marginally recognizable. We were seated at a table for 8 that was already occupied by a tourist and a businessman with his tie tucked into his shirt. The NY style cheesecake was teasing me from the windowed carousel. An assortment of pickles was placed before us. Linda recently fell off the diet coke wagon, so we both ordered diet cokes. I ordered the Hot Pastrami on rye and Linda ordered the Shrimp Salad “Are the shrimp fried?” I laughed at the size of the roast beef sandwich delivered to our dining companion and quickly apologized for laughing at his food. My sandwich was 8 inches tall filled with salted, cured, steaming meat, delicious with a bit of mustard. Linda’s salad was overwhelming and at the end of the meal, I asked when she was going to start eating. We skipped the cheesecake, feeling confident that it would not be our last offer of the tempting rich local speciality.
We walked a few blocks to the American Folk Art Museum and saw a goodly collection of Practical Art made by untrained artists. A lovely collection of quilts, carvings, signs, pottery and paintings were arranged by the curator, mostly by history and region. We then saw the special exhibition of Dargerism. Apparently in 1972, Mr. Darger died, and found in his home was a large collection of original art based on 2 child characters called the Vivian Girls who just happened to have male genitalia. He created this whole fantasy world with large drawings that current artist have chosen to emulate through paintings, video and photography. Our eyebrows and heads didn’t return to their normal, upright, unquestioning position until we exited the exhibition. I use the term exhibition as in exhibitionist…
A stroll through Central Park seemed appropriate where we came upon an historic Carousel. We were not the oldest riders on the gaily-decorated stallions! We encountered small school groups and Nannies with their charges ensconced in designer perambulators throughout the park. Puppies of all breeds, colors and sizes were in abundance, much to our collective delight!
Learning from our aforementioned trip to Alaska, we took advantage of having our Hotel room right in the city and went back to the room for a bit of a rest with the serenade of honking taxi cabs reaching our 22nd floor room. We soon got used to the big city noises.
For dinner, we took the subway “downtown” to the Meat Packing District and had a short walk to the “Spotted Pig,” a Mario Batali gastro pub in Greenwich Village. It was early and we were seated right away upstairs in a cozy corner booth where we could watch the bartender and the chef who prepared the “bar food” appetizers. “Jack and Coke” for me and a Mojito for Linda. Apparently Galiano sours are not a common drink in the Big Apple. We discussed being adventurous and ordering the herring appetizer, but a 2nd server came by and made a face, so she talked us into the “Devils on Horseback” for out first course - Pear and Prune wrapped in bacon and boiled in green tea. Lovely. We didn’t eat them all, so when another table of three aspiring actors was seated next to us, we let them try our last one and they ordered a plate for themselves.
I had Ramps for my salad with a fried duck egg on top, followed by a ginger infused beef salad for supper. Linda had a roasted beet and warm goat cheese salad and a colorful arrangement of local and seasonal veg for the entrée. The food, atmosphere and company were phenomenal, thanks largely to the open-minded influence of our progeny who have exposed us to all matter of interesting eatables and activities.
The next morning, we had an official IBM meeting to attend complete with the pre-printed name tags. “Hello, my name is David” and a big sit-down breakfast with other IBM award winners and their spouses. The speaker was one of the award winners and his job was to spend the allotted 15 minutes to meet the IRS requirements for the business expense deductions. An excellent speech that included the information that most of the major museums in New York are free to IBMers and their guests since IBM is a corporate sponsors of all the museums. Nice.
We walked to the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) to get in for free and avoid the lines. We took a vow to be “open minded” before we went in. We enjoyed most of the exhibits. The mono-color slabs of paint were silly. The “women’s studies” based art was a little too much “in your face.” The large Monet was cool. My favorite was a large 3 story foyer with a 18” fan hung from a 30 foot cord that just randomly blew around the room. The other really neat area was on the 2nd floor as you went up the escalator. Linda noticed that everyone ahead of us on the escalator was wearing black and white clothes. They had some special yellow lights that turned everything monochrome. All the colors were washed out. What was really neat was that many people walking through didn’t have any reaction to it. While discussing the lighting effects with a family of fellow museum goers, one of their party took a digital photo of her family in the light. When she entered the hall where usual light was restored, the photograph appeared in color. Hmm!? The sculptures in the outdoor courtyard were especially rewarding. One of our favorites was done by a sculptor with the last name of Rickey.
Then we set out to catch the subway down to the bottom of the island to go on our helicopter tour. We arrived early and a gentleman in a red windbreaker told us to get in line next to the building with the others. 20 minutes later a gentleman in a blue windbreaker come out with an official looking clipboard and started looking for someone. We had made a reservation for a flight that was about to take off, so I asked him if we were in the right line and apparently we were not, so he told us to go through the metal detector and he escorted us inside to a desk where we were told we each had to pay an additional $60 in fees and taxes for heliport fees. We waited for another 20 minutes while all the windbreakers had their pizza lunch. There were about 40 people working there in various roles: security, ground crew, pilots ( VIP lounge ), business managers, FAA, Port Authority, etc… It turns out that 3 different companies fly out of the same place and they try to steal each other’s patrons by putting them in the wrong lines. After a lengthy delay the safety video was played which told us about the 4 different kinds of seat belts that can be found in their helicopters. We were also given a yellow life vest pack to fit around our waists. When we finally went outside, we didn’t have to duck under the rotors, but it was fun to do anyway. The flight was about 12 minutes over the Hudson River and the Statue of Liberty, but it was very foggy and we couldn’t see much. We can check it off our list and it was on IBM’s dime, so… We got the requisite $20 photo of us next to the helicopter.
We took the subway a short two stops “uptown” to the World Trade Center site. Lots of tourists being respectful and solemn looking at a construction site. Weird. We walked through an old Episcopal church, that George Washington attended, right across the street from the Twin Towers that acted as a rest area for the rescue workers after the September 11 attacks. It was nice. Cots were still set up and lots of memorabilia about 9/11 was on display. It’s still hard to believe the shock from when the mammoth buildings actually fell down, and the horrible loss of life that occurred, but proof that “the world goes on” was strongly evident in the present scene…
Our 2nd nap of the weekend ensued when we returned to the Hotel.
I got to wear my new blue sports coat with big buttons for our evening excursions. We took a human powered bike taxi with a warming lap blanket to Broadway. It’s amazing how safe you feel knowing that a bus, taxi, police car, etc. wouldn’t dare hit a person on a bike. All he had to do was hold up his hand and the traffic stopped!!! He also told us about a place to get a pre-play drink and another place to get a post-play drink. We walked across the street from the theatre to Sardi’s for a drink - a classic small NY bar with regulars and a few tourists. I was getting drinks and Linda was getting a table. When I returned, she was in deep conversation with a nice lady from South Carolina. “I really like your shoes” was how that all started. They were going to Spamalot as well.
We were in the 2nd row and could really see all the facial expressions of the actors. They were having a good time and it was a truly silly, fun affair – even funnier than the Monty Python film. The actor who portrayed Sir Robin was Clay Aiken of American Idol fame. The cast also included an FSU alumnus. It was very entertaining and a thoroughly New York experience.
We took a stroll to the Piano bar recommended by our bicycle guide, but they didn’t have snacks so we went across the street to get a Tapas dinner. We had Manchego cheese, salads, chorizo, spicy fried potatoes and Clams Casino. All dishes were pronounced delicious
That was a full day.
Saturday, we slept late and decided to go out for brunch. We ended up at a diner type place named Lindy’s where we paid $60 for a very mediocre breakfast with “omelets” filled with canned mushrooms and unmelted American cheese food slices – not our finest meal. Curiously, french fries were served alongside the eggs where the unavailable grits should have resided.
The American Museum of Natural History was phenomenal! We’ve all seen pictures of the dinosaur bones in the front entry to the beautifully architected building, but the marvels inside were beyond words. Unfortunately, the museum has not seen fit to publish a volume highlighting its treasures in word and picture form, so the vast majority of our discoveries there remain in our imaginations and memories. After hours inside the museum, we were in great need of some fresh air and Central Park beckoned. We rented cruiser bikes with the intention of wheeling around a section or two of the huge urban greenway, but ended up riding around the entire perimeter of the park! We were proud of our endeavor, having to walk our one-speed bikes only near the very top of the aptly named Great Hill. We spied Lance Armstrong-attired riders with their expensive rides huffily struggling up the apex of the ascent so we didn’t feel bad about having to momentarily accompany our bicycles on foot.
Soft serve ice cream which was in abundance during the previous days excursions was not to be found, so after an exhaustive search for the delicate comfort treat, we tried to have tea at the newly refurbished Plaza Hotel, but we missed it by 15 minutes, having used our time in our failed crusade for a cooler snack. We settled for gourmet cheese and crackers procured from an International grocery store which we enjoyed at our leisure in our hotel room.
Chinese food was had for supper. Lucy Ho’s it was not, but it served as a good starter for the remainder of our evening activities. The Carnegie Club which we greatly anticipated enjoying for Sinatra night, turned out to be a Smoking Club. The unbreathable fog of acrid smoke that enveloped us as we opened the establishment’s door lived up to the purpose of the club’s name.
Went back to the “Don’t Tell Your Mama,” piano bar our bicycle driver told us about the night before, and after waiting a short while in the cold air outside, we were beckoned into its cozy environs where we joined in the ersatz community of theater goers and locals and joined in the singing of show tunes by our waiters and bartenders who all had experience or high hopes of singing on the Great White Way. Again, Galiano was not to be found, but a pineappely sweet Rum Punch served nicely.
Sunday morning arrived with more frigid temperatures, but the rain promised for the day never materialized. We inched our way through a maze of bicycles gathered to begin the Five Borough Bike Race and ventured to St Patrick’s Cathedral for Mass. The gothic architecture of the 160-year old church befitted its role as host of the Pope’s visit just two week’s prior. Mass was celebrated in a decidedly spare manner considering its noble setting. We thought about taking a tour of Brooklyn, but we didn’t know what to look at, so we settled for a bit of breakfast at Starbucks and a shortened tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Having limited time to discover the museum’s many treasures we made a beeline for the Impressionists. Afterwards, we meandered through a maze of Egyptian pyramid exhibits, apparently what is not in the British Museum in London, only to discover that the sculptural exhibit we sought was not open for the day. On to the gift shop where we purchased two posters of art to hang as souvenirs of our New York holiday upon arriving home.
We had time for a bit of a stroll down Park Avenue and a quintessential diner for lunch. The chili burger was wonderfully and pungently spiced and the free range burger expertly prepared. David saved room for a final, last-minute slice of New York cheesecake and Linda finally got a cone with a velvety swirl of soft serve vanilla. Yum!
Our time up and our tour of the samples of the Big Apple complete, we swooped into our hotel and picked up our luggage and hailed a cab back to the airport. The flights were uneventful with a somewhat annoying 90 minute delay in our departure from our Atlanta connection due to a lack of flight attendant available for our 45 minute, no service flight to Tallahassee.
We arrived home about midnight, exhausted and fulfilled from our adventure. The next day we knew we were truly home when we picked up Harry, clean and poofy. And of course we appreciated coming home to a clean house which would be ready for our first wave of visitors in three days…
Can I get some catch-up with those chips?
It's been a hectic month for the London Marders. I have a lot to catch up on, and I'm hoping to do that over the long weekend (we get Monday off for a "bank holiday").
First things first, though. My job. My friend Amy, who had been the website manager, left in April to take a job elsewhere. I asked for her job, but they didn't think I could handle it (boy were they wrong), so they hired someone else and I started applying for other jobs. But the new guy only lasted two weeks, and in those two weeks, even though I was unhappy with my job, I did well enough to show them that, in fact, they should have just given me that job in the first place. My boss actually admitted this and offered the job to me and hired a new assistant website manager. I also got a pretty sweet little raise out of the deal. I started three weeks ago, and I've been insanely busy ever since. But today I finally got some big things crossed off my list, and I think I'll be able to take it a little easier now. The bank holiday could not have come at a better time. Even though I've been really busy, though, I'm really happy with my new job. I feel like I'm accomplishing something, and I'm in charge of the website (absolutely) and the assistant manager (at least nominally). I feel like such an adult!
Andrew's branch manager gig continues to be challenging and, depending on the day you ask him about it, rewarding. He is also ready for the long weekend. While I am catching up on things, I hope he will sit on the couch and play Nintendo until his eyes glaze over. After all, it's a bank holiday. I think bankers should get to relax even more.
I suppose there is a yearly cycle of busy spots in the year, and the cusp of summer is one of them. That, plus our job stuff, plus traveling and entertaining visitors (more on that later...several posts worth) has just left us exhausted. The other thing that has been tiring me out, perhaps I could get some advice on. I recently subscribed to The Economist, which is one of the world's best publications, in my opinion. I can almost feel my brain getting bigger as I read it. Unfortunately, it comes every Friday, and at over 100 fine-print pages per issue, I just can't keep up. I was frantically trying to finish on the train today, but I'm only on page 89. When I walked in the door, I looked on the stairs to see if the mail was there, and it wasn't. I breathed a sigh of relief: maybe I would have an extra day to finish last week's issue. But then I turned around, and lurking behind the door, ready to pounce at me, was the new issue! Does anyone else struggle to keep up with a weekly (or daily or monthly) publication? Any tips?
And finally, high on my list for the weekend is writing some blog posts to publish over the next couple weeks. I've got a lot to write about!
First things first, though. My job. My friend Amy, who had been the website manager, left in April to take a job elsewhere. I asked for her job, but they didn't think I could handle it (boy were they wrong), so they hired someone else and I started applying for other jobs. But the new guy only lasted two weeks, and in those two weeks, even though I was unhappy with my job, I did well enough to show them that, in fact, they should have just given me that job in the first place. My boss actually admitted this and offered the job to me and hired a new assistant website manager. I also got a pretty sweet little raise out of the deal. I started three weeks ago, and I've been insanely busy ever since. But today I finally got some big things crossed off my list, and I think I'll be able to take it a little easier now. The bank holiday could not have come at a better time. Even though I've been really busy, though, I'm really happy with my new job. I feel like I'm accomplishing something, and I'm in charge of the website (absolutely) and the assistant manager (at least nominally). I feel like such an adult!
Andrew's branch manager gig continues to be challenging and, depending on the day you ask him about it, rewarding. He is also ready for the long weekend. While I am catching up on things, I hope he will sit on the couch and play Nintendo until his eyes glaze over. After all, it's a bank holiday. I think bankers should get to relax even more.
I suppose there is a yearly cycle of busy spots in the year, and the cusp of summer is one of them. That, plus our job stuff, plus traveling and entertaining visitors (more on that later...several posts worth) has just left us exhausted. The other thing that has been tiring me out, perhaps I could get some advice on. I recently subscribed to The Economist, which is one of the world's best publications, in my opinion. I can almost feel my brain getting bigger as I read it. Unfortunately, it comes every Friday, and at over 100 fine-print pages per issue, I just can't keep up. I was frantically trying to finish on the train today, but I'm only on page 89. When I walked in the door, I looked on the stairs to see if the mail was there, and it wasn't. I breathed a sigh of relief: maybe I would have an extra day to finish last week's issue. But then I turned around, and lurking behind the door, ready to pounce at me, was the new issue! Does anyone else struggle to keep up with a weekly (or daily or monthly) publication? Any tips?
And finally, high on my list for the weekend is writing some blog posts to publish over the next couple weeks. I've got a lot to write about!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
A feast for all the senses
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.
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.
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!)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
