Ok I'm exhausted. As much as I enjoy moving locations, the actual process does suck me dry (could be because I feel a need to get EVERYTHING unpacked and put away in record time).
Actually, most things are finding homes and coming together nicely -- it helps not to move an entire house; the lack of toys alone is fabulous! I do like living "light;" I'm sure my husband will love it when we move home and I get rid of 2/3 of what we've accumulated...
As for being wired in, I'm now thoroughly confused. BT, which canceled my phone order twice, now tells me I don't need an engineer and that my phone line should simply be active. (Since our phones aren't charged I can't begin to tell you if that's accurate or if he's blowing smoke you know where.) Meanwhile I received a text message confirming that a BT engineer will be at my house Friday at 120 pound charge. But guy on phone says no engineer, no charge. Are they really working for the same company?
Internet of course CAN'T come on until Monday; they couldn't give me a good reason for that. Let's just hope it actually does work when the time comes...
And the TV people have given me the typical "appointment" timeframe: just be home between 9 and 6 on Friday, ma'am. I was told yesterday that TV service here is a misnomer. So we'll see what happens on Friday in TV land.
In the midst of all my organizing, unpacking and cleaning, I danced off to a St. Johns Wood Women's Club meeting and my Ancient Britian Class yesterday. Fabulous break!
At the first event there was a speaker who talked about Olympic Park. Apparently the area in which the village is being constructed boasts the worst five boroughs in all of England. So as money and construction pour into the place, efforts are being made to create facilities/infrastructure that can be maintained longer term. Unemployment is part of what is being addressed within the community -- will be interesting to see how much success the effort has in future.
It turns out Olympic Park will be at the end of our tube line, about a 20 minute ride. Olympics, here we come! (Provided we're still here, naturally.) Tours are given of the Park as it comes to life, so I think the SJWWC is looking into one for fall -- would be fun to see it before it's actually up and running.
The women at the meeting seem like a neat group, variety of ages and backgrounds with many different interests...hiking, lunches, teas, book group, stitching, theatre, happy hours, etc. I anticipate fitting some of their activities in to enhance my time in London.
My Ancient Britain class rocked; we'll go to Stonehenge in a couple of weeks to actually see what we've been learning about. Families are welcome so the kids and Joe are coming, too.
After class it was back to reality with house stuff, though such a gorgeous day that we had the doors thrown open and Ava's picked half the community garden to decorate our kitchen table. (Maybe that's why my eyes are swollen? Hello pollen!) Apparently it's one of the warmest Aprils on record here. They must have known I was coming and that I simply can't handle the slightest chill.
Cheers and happy Thursday!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Moving!
After a busy Monday on the move end of things, I'm happy to report we have hot water and heat. I now know how to work the system (small things in life, critical).
I got a call from the furniture company yesterday morning at 8:30, saying they were at the house...Ava and I were at the old house waiting on the packing crew. (A in her nightie and I hadn't showered). We mobilized with water and clothes and as we were walking out the door to let the furniture folks into the new house, the doorbell buzzed. Packers.
So we oriented them, then headed out to meet up w/ furniture folks, who'd gone to have tea while they waited.
All went quite smoothly if a bit hectic; at one point there were 15 men in the house.
And w/ regard to TV, phone and internet service, it looks like Friday 2 out of 3 may happen, Monday the 3rd (I'm not holding my breath here).
On tap today: some unpacking and Ava and I will escape the chaos for a bit to enjoy what promises to be gorgeous weather!
I got a call from the furniture company yesterday morning at 8:30, saying they were at the house...Ava and I were at the old house waiting on the packing crew. (A in her nightie and I hadn't showered). We mobilized with water and clothes and as we were walking out the door to let the furniture folks into the new house, the doorbell buzzed. Packers.
So we oriented them, then headed out to meet up w/ furniture folks, who'd gone to have tea while they waited.
All went quite smoothly if a bit hectic; at one point there were 15 men in the house.
And w/ regard to TV, phone and internet service, it looks like Friday 2 out of 3 may happen, Monday the 3rd (I'm not holding my breath here).
On tap today: some unpacking and Ava and I will escape the chaos for a bit to enjoy what promises to be gorgeous weather!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Easter and the rest of spring break
Easter
We started our day with chocolate in bed (it was Easter, afterall), then headed to St. Nicholas Church for Mass (it was one of a few churches w/ masses in English). Droves weren’t lining up for seats – a first. Those C&E Christians must have all been at the Flemish and French masses.
We took our loitering to a sidewalk café and had doughnuts and pastries for breakfast. Nothing like more sugar before 10 a.m.
After a nice mass, officiated by an American priest, we looked for the cannon ball still lodged in the nave from the French invasion in the 1600’s; we can attest that it is still there.
From the church we wandered to an art market near the square – candles in the form of beer, jewelry, clothes, figurines that whistled like birds (novel but after a day the thing would lose its squawk in our house). Nothing we couldn’t live without.
We checked out some of the shopping arcades in lovely old buildings off the square, found a lace souvenir for Claire (small pillow with what she claims has 3 uses: necklace storage, American doll accessory, Xmas tree décor).
Ava, naturally, wasn’t far behind in the need for a souvenir. We found a row of purses for the change she keeps finding on the sidewalk (it pays, quite literally, to be close to the ground, apparently). Ava is now sporting a Bruxelles purse for her change.
Per a recommendation by the lace shop owner, we lunched at a little Italian place – non-touristy. Lovely food, local crowd and a staff that spoke very little English, a whole lot of Italian. Joe asked the kitchen crew what the house specialty was and after blank stares they all said “pasta.” (Isn’t every house specialty in Italy pasta?!?)
After lunch we tracked down dessert – I wanted a waffle with nutella and whipped cream at Patty’s favorite waffle shop. As usual, she was on target – it was superb. Kids wanted ice cream (they’re both really into lemon sorbet these days). Low and behold we came upon an ice cream truck on our way to the Royal Palace, so we sat by a fountain overlooking lovely Brussels while they consumed their sorbet.(When I was a kid it was all about vanilla ice cream; I’m still not a big sorbet fan. Does this mean my ice cream tastes are less grown up than my children's?)
Claire and I hit the ancient art portion of the Musee des Artes, spent much time viewing artwork by the Flemish masters. It was a truly great couple of hours and we eventually left when they kicked us out (closing time).
Meanwhile Joe and Ava made their way back to the hotel, stopping at the The Église Notre Dame du Sablon (Church of Our Lady of Sablon) en route (Claire and I did the same thing on our way through).
Built in the 15th and 16th centuries, Notre Dame du Sablon is "noted for its four-fold gallery with brightly colored stained-glass windows, a striking contrast with the gray-white Gothic arches and walls."
Also inside: two baroque chapels decorated with funeral symbols in white marble and the celebrated statue of St. Hubert -- it was once stolen and taken to Antwerp but was seized and returned to the church in 1348, where it has remained.
While Ava ate free chocolate eggs at the hotel and Joe sampled more Belgian beer, Claire and I stopped for photos and to look over the city by the Place Poelart (where the lovely Palais de Justice sits – the domes weighs 24,000 tons) and the war memorial.
All of us collapsed for a bit, then had dinner at a pub nearby – casual place with good stuempf (sp?) – local sausage/mashed potato/vegetable specialty), great Parmesan croquettes (does it get any better than fried cheese) and live music. Not bad.
Easter Monday
We wandered Brussels this morning, stopping for waffles and ice cream for breakfast, then checking out a couple of churches (feeling quite holy on this trip).
Notre Dame de la Chapelle (Our Lady of the Chapel) is a large Romanesque-Gothic church; construction on it began in 1210 and was completed by the end of the 13th century (thus marking the transition between Romanesque and Gothic styles; the transept and choir are Romanesque-Gothic, most of the remainder is in the Flamboyant Gothic style). Which I guess means there’s a non-flamboyant Gothic style?
Notre Dame de la Chapelle is notable as the burial place of Francois Anneessens (1660-1719), a Brussels hero who lost his head for campaigning for civil rights. It’s also the burial site of Pieter Brueghel the Elder and his wife.
The other church we popped into escapes my memory, other than it is very old and looks that much older sandwiched between modern buildings on the busy, broad and tree lined Avenue Louise (quite the contrast to the more historical Brussels, with its narrow, windy streets that seem to lead easily from site to site but make map orientation confusing. Best to wander and wing it, I guess).
We later ended up in the city park near the Royal Palace, where it was international playtime at its best: Muslim kids, English kids, Italian kids, French and Flemish speaking kids, African kids…and of course American kids.
Then it was onto the train station for our Eurostar trip back to London, lovely day here, trees are in bloom and gorgeous. One near us has already left a carpet of white petals on the pavement.
And the remainder of spring break?
Kids and I hit the London Zoo, a great place – yes, it should be for the amount of money we and every other family in London w/ a spring breaker spent on Tuesday). I must say it’s a startling contrast to the Delhi zoo. I do believe the animals at both zoos are well treated, with clean, natural habitats and all that.
But…for under $2, the Delhi one rocked. Of course we were scared to try the ice cream, which was the only snack available, and the bathroom wasn’t up to the same standards held for the zoo inhabitants. And while the Delhi zoo experience was pretty much only about the animals (and us being stared at, pointed at, talked about and photographed by curious Indians), the London Zoo features all kinds of special events, fundraisers, partnerships, talks and demonstrations, playgrounds, cafes, carnival equipment, on and on and on.
Oh, and HEAVY with the conservation messages. If you find me politely escorting spiders outside rather than whacking them with a shoe, you’ll know it’s due to the London Zoo’s brain washing.)
Anyway, with tix, lunch, ice cream and one ride on the merry go round, we left just under $100 with the fine London Zoo people. They actually asked if I wanted to donate MORE money. I think I covered that pretty well.
Despite all that we’ve decided to become members (really, going twice is more expensive than joining for a year, and since membership will recoup our last week’s ticket expenditure, I’m for it…plus said zoo is only a 10 minute walk from us.
(I’ve seen the giraffes a few times on my morning walks, scratching their necks on their doorway.) I do believe we’ll go there enough to take advantage of joining. (Can’t you just see it: “do you want to go to the zoo? Not today mom. Well too bad. We paid for it so you will go and you will enjoy it, @!X$#!”).
We also hit the National Wildlife Photography exhibit, which is in town for a few more days at the National History Museum – very cool and very worth seeing if you get the chance.
And on Thursday, when it rained, we went to one of those noisy indoor play areas where every child screams at the top of their lungs. It was great fun. (I hope you can hear the sarcasm coming through my keyboard.)
Other highlights:
Ava cut her hair. Must be a rite of passage for the 2-5 year old crowd, right? I caught Claire cutting hers when she was 3 or so…I did not find Ava cutting her hair, I found her hair near shards of paper and blunt, plastic green handled scissors. Thus Ava is now sporting a chic little bob per the 8 pound Great Clips equivalent up the road.
Halfway through the haircut she burst into tears, said something about her stomach. After consolation and quick action by the hairdresser we hit a café for a snack (I thought she was starving; sometimes she becomes cranky or maudlin when in need of food). That’s when it came out: she was sobbing because “I look like a boy; I hate my hair cut. Can’t we just pull it and make it longer again?”
After plenty of comments about her princess looks, she now preens about her new ‘do.
And after voracious Claire/Ava fighting through the grocery store and into the tube the other day, I watched as Ava stuck her tongue out at Claire all the way home on the subway. Unbeknownst to her (or maybe she knew and was loving the audience bit) everyone in our tube car was watching her as she leaned over and stuck her tongue out at Claire as many different ways as one’s tongue can be stuck out. I couldn’t see Claire face from my vantage point but I suspect she had her arms crossed in anger and was giving Ava a look of rage.
Saturday we had a lovely time at the Household Cavalry Museum, where first we watched the changing of the guard in the courtyard adjacent to the museum. Big, black horses with impeccably dressed riders sporting red and white, plumes and armor vests, strode out, later joined by a larger procession coming down the street near Buckingham Palace.
They then stood around for a very long time, as did we and a growing crowd, waiting for something to happen. Eventually it did; they went through a ceremony, then some guards went one way, the other group another – they rode by within a couple of feet of us. Incredibly beautiful animals and such grace and dignity of horsemen.
This whole thing took about an hour, we then headed into the museum and checked it out – learned about the lengthy process involved in grooming, training, preparing costumes daily, the history of the guards and their activities around London and abroad. Through a glassed wall you can actually see the stables, the big black rumps of the horses, some coming and going with guards leading them, other groomsmen watering, feeding and cleaning.
Very cool experience.
More about the Household Cavalry Museum:
The Household Cavalry Museum sits within Horse Guards in Whitehall, central London, which dates from 1750. It is still the headquarters of the Household Division, and the Household Cavalry has continued to perform the Queen’s Life Guard, a daily ceremony which has remained relatively unchanged for over 350 years.
The Household Cavalry was formed in 1661 under the direct order of King Charles II and now consists of the two senior regiments of the British Army – The Life Guards and the Blues and Royals.
They have two roles: as a mounted regiment (on horseback) they guard Her Majesty The Queen on ceremonial occasions in London and across the UK and are a key part of the Royal pageantry; as an operational regiment they serve around the world in armored fighting vehicles. They currently have units deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan.
And in other news…
Naturally w/ the move to our new house, we’ve spent plenty of time and energy getting things set up, only to find we have no hot water, the heat won’t turn on, my phone order has been cancelled twice, my TV hook up once and broadband…who knows?!? And people really thought we were crazy for living in hotel? Hello?
We started our day with chocolate in bed (it was Easter, afterall), then headed to St. Nicholas Church for Mass (it was one of a few churches w/ masses in English). Droves weren’t lining up for seats – a first. Those C&E Christians must have all been at the Flemish and French masses.
We took our loitering to a sidewalk café and had doughnuts and pastries for breakfast. Nothing like more sugar before 10 a.m.
After a nice mass, officiated by an American priest, we looked for the cannon ball still lodged in the nave from the French invasion in the 1600’s; we can attest that it is still there.
From the church we wandered to an art market near the square – candles in the form of beer, jewelry, clothes, figurines that whistled like birds (novel but after a day the thing would lose its squawk in our house). Nothing we couldn’t live without.
We checked out some of the shopping arcades in lovely old buildings off the square, found a lace souvenir for Claire (small pillow with what she claims has 3 uses: necklace storage, American doll accessory, Xmas tree décor).
Ava, naturally, wasn’t far behind in the need for a souvenir. We found a row of purses for the change she keeps finding on the sidewalk (it pays, quite literally, to be close to the ground, apparently). Ava is now sporting a Bruxelles purse for her change.
Per a recommendation by the lace shop owner, we lunched at a little Italian place – non-touristy. Lovely food, local crowd and a staff that spoke very little English, a whole lot of Italian. Joe asked the kitchen crew what the house specialty was and after blank stares they all said “pasta.” (Isn’t every house specialty in Italy pasta?!?)
After lunch we tracked down dessert – I wanted a waffle with nutella and whipped cream at Patty’s favorite waffle shop. As usual, she was on target – it was superb. Kids wanted ice cream (they’re both really into lemon sorbet these days). Low and behold we came upon an ice cream truck on our way to the Royal Palace, so we sat by a fountain overlooking lovely Brussels while they consumed their sorbet.(When I was a kid it was all about vanilla ice cream; I’m still not a big sorbet fan. Does this mean my ice cream tastes are less grown up than my children's?)
Claire and I hit the ancient art portion of the Musee des Artes, spent much time viewing artwork by the Flemish masters. It was a truly great couple of hours and we eventually left when they kicked us out (closing time).
Meanwhile Joe and Ava made their way back to the hotel, stopping at the The Église Notre Dame du Sablon (Church of Our Lady of Sablon) en route (Claire and I did the same thing on our way through).
Built in the 15th and 16th centuries, Notre Dame du Sablon is "noted for its four-fold gallery with brightly colored stained-glass windows, a striking contrast with the gray-white Gothic arches and walls."
Also inside: two baroque chapels decorated with funeral symbols in white marble and the celebrated statue of St. Hubert -- it was once stolen and taken to Antwerp but was seized and returned to the church in 1348, where it has remained.
While Ava ate free chocolate eggs at the hotel and Joe sampled more Belgian beer, Claire and I stopped for photos and to look over the city by the Place Poelart (where the lovely Palais de Justice sits – the domes weighs 24,000 tons) and the war memorial.
All of us collapsed for a bit, then had dinner at a pub nearby – casual place with good stuempf (sp?) – local sausage/mashed potato/vegetable specialty), great Parmesan croquettes (does it get any better than fried cheese) and live music. Not bad.
Easter Monday
We wandered Brussels this morning, stopping for waffles and ice cream for breakfast, then checking out a couple of churches (feeling quite holy on this trip).
Notre Dame de la Chapelle (Our Lady of the Chapel) is a large Romanesque-Gothic church; construction on it began in 1210 and was completed by the end of the 13th century (thus marking the transition between Romanesque and Gothic styles; the transept and choir are Romanesque-Gothic, most of the remainder is in the Flamboyant Gothic style). Which I guess means there’s a non-flamboyant Gothic style?
Notre Dame de la Chapelle is notable as the burial place of Francois Anneessens (1660-1719), a Brussels hero who lost his head for campaigning for civil rights. It’s also the burial site of Pieter Brueghel the Elder and his wife.
The other church we popped into escapes my memory, other than it is very old and looks that much older sandwiched between modern buildings on the busy, broad and tree lined Avenue Louise (quite the contrast to the more historical Brussels, with its narrow, windy streets that seem to lead easily from site to site but make map orientation confusing. Best to wander and wing it, I guess).
We later ended up in the city park near the Royal Palace, where it was international playtime at its best: Muslim kids, English kids, Italian kids, French and Flemish speaking kids, African kids…and of course American kids.
Then it was onto the train station for our Eurostar trip back to London, lovely day here, trees are in bloom and gorgeous. One near us has already left a carpet of white petals on the pavement.
And the remainder of spring break?
Kids and I hit the London Zoo, a great place – yes, it should be for the amount of money we and every other family in London w/ a spring breaker spent on Tuesday). I must say it’s a startling contrast to the Delhi zoo. I do believe the animals at both zoos are well treated, with clean, natural habitats and all that.
But…for under $2, the Delhi one rocked. Of course we were scared to try the ice cream, which was the only snack available, and the bathroom wasn’t up to the same standards held for the zoo inhabitants. And while the Delhi zoo experience was pretty much only about the animals (and us being stared at, pointed at, talked about and photographed by curious Indians), the London Zoo features all kinds of special events, fundraisers, partnerships, talks and demonstrations, playgrounds, cafes, carnival equipment, on and on and on.
Oh, and HEAVY with the conservation messages. If you find me politely escorting spiders outside rather than whacking them with a shoe, you’ll know it’s due to the London Zoo’s brain washing.)
Anyway, with tix, lunch, ice cream and one ride on the merry go round, we left just under $100 with the fine London Zoo people. They actually asked if I wanted to donate MORE money. I think I covered that pretty well.
Despite all that we’ve decided to become members (really, going twice is more expensive than joining for a year, and since membership will recoup our last week’s ticket expenditure, I’m for it…plus said zoo is only a 10 minute walk from us.
(I’ve seen the giraffes a few times on my morning walks, scratching their necks on their doorway.) I do believe we’ll go there enough to take advantage of joining. (Can’t you just see it: “do you want to go to the zoo? Not today mom. Well too bad. We paid for it so you will go and you will enjoy it, @!X$#!”).
We also hit the National Wildlife Photography exhibit, which is in town for a few more days at the National History Museum – very cool and very worth seeing if you get the chance.
And on Thursday, when it rained, we went to one of those noisy indoor play areas where every child screams at the top of their lungs. It was great fun. (I hope you can hear the sarcasm coming through my keyboard.)
Other highlights:
Ava cut her hair. Must be a rite of passage for the 2-5 year old crowd, right? I caught Claire cutting hers when she was 3 or so…I did not find Ava cutting her hair, I found her hair near shards of paper and blunt, plastic green handled scissors. Thus Ava is now sporting a chic little bob per the 8 pound Great Clips equivalent up the road.
Halfway through the haircut she burst into tears, said something about her stomach. After consolation and quick action by the hairdresser we hit a café for a snack (I thought she was starving; sometimes she becomes cranky or maudlin when in need of food). That’s when it came out: she was sobbing because “I look like a boy; I hate my hair cut. Can’t we just pull it and make it longer again?”
After plenty of comments about her princess looks, she now preens about her new ‘do.
And after voracious Claire/Ava fighting through the grocery store and into the tube the other day, I watched as Ava stuck her tongue out at Claire all the way home on the subway. Unbeknownst to her (or maybe she knew and was loving the audience bit) everyone in our tube car was watching her as she leaned over and stuck her tongue out at Claire as many different ways as one’s tongue can be stuck out. I couldn’t see Claire face from my vantage point but I suspect she had her arms crossed in anger and was giving Ava a look of rage.
Saturday we had a lovely time at the Household Cavalry Museum, where first we watched the changing of the guard in the courtyard adjacent to the museum. Big, black horses with impeccably dressed riders sporting red and white, plumes and armor vests, strode out, later joined by a larger procession coming down the street near Buckingham Palace.
They then stood around for a very long time, as did we and a growing crowd, waiting for something to happen. Eventually it did; they went through a ceremony, then some guards went one way, the other group another – they rode by within a couple of feet of us. Incredibly beautiful animals and such grace and dignity of horsemen.
This whole thing took about an hour, we then headed into the museum and checked it out – learned about the lengthy process involved in grooming, training, preparing costumes daily, the history of the guards and their activities around London and abroad. Through a glassed wall you can actually see the stables, the big black rumps of the horses, some coming and going with guards leading them, other groomsmen watering, feeding and cleaning.
Very cool experience.
More about the Household Cavalry Museum:
The Household Cavalry Museum sits within Horse Guards in Whitehall, central London, which dates from 1750. It is still the headquarters of the Household Division, and the Household Cavalry has continued to perform the Queen’s Life Guard, a daily ceremony which has remained relatively unchanged for over 350 years.
The Household Cavalry was formed in 1661 under the direct order of King Charles II and now consists of the two senior regiments of the British Army – The Life Guards and the Blues and Royals.
They have two roles: as a mounted regiment (on horseback) they guard Her Majesty The Queen on ceremonial occasions in London and across the UK and are a key part of the Royal pageantry; as an operational regiment they serve around the world in armored fighting vehicles. They currently have units deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan.
And in other news…
Naturally w/ the move to our new house, we’ve spent plenty of time and energy getting things set up, only to find we have no hot water, the heat won’t turn on, my phone order has been cancelled twice, my TV hook up once and broadband…who knows?!? And people really thought we were crazy for living in hotel? Hello?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Saturday in Bruges
Today we headed to Bruges via train from Brussels Midi – hopped a cab wherein the driver asked if 10 Euro would be ok rather than the meter…as the meter would be cheaper. Hello?!? And no, it wasn’t far to the station, obviously, but Claire has done an awful lot of walking and no doubt Bruges would be a lot of footwork.
The driver’s excuse for wanting 10 euros from us for a 6 euro ride was because he had to sit at the hotel for an hour waiting for a customer. And we were supposed to compensate for this?
The ride to Bruges was quick, kids enjoyed the train and the deep green farmland, small villages with lovely churches and steeples, brick houses with triangular roofs, a few horses and cows sprinkled in, made for a lovely view.
We were in Bruges by 11, headed for the city center and hit the canal ride first. A nice way to tour the city from the water, our guide gave a spiel in 6 different languages (diverse group of tourists, obviously).
Bruges’ many gorgeous buildings dating back to the 11th century are mainly intact as the city was untouched during both world wars. Thus it’s a lovely place…gorgeous architecture, winding streets, canals, flowers in bloom.
Five km of canals around the city are devoted to tourism. The area used to be at sea level and you can still take canals out to sea (the outer ones, not the ones we sailed). The boat took us under bridges built in the 13th and 15th centuries. We saw many of the city’s key sites – old hospital (now museum), a house that looks like a church, cathedral, many other churches (I think there are 16 or more, and only one of them isn’t Catholic).
Today Bruges has a large Italian population, per our boat driver. People here speak Flemish as it’s in one of Belgium’s Flemish states (I think he said 4 are Flemish speaking, 4 French).
After the boat ride we looked for the Godiva factory but apparently it’s left Bruges so we took refuge at a pub near the fish market for lunch. We sat outside and enjoyed the sunshine, beer and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. This was after attempting to eat at an Italian restaurant that looked like it had great pizza (apparently I hadn’t gotten my fill from the previous night).
When we came in (kids and me), the waitress looked at us and said “no.” Not sure if that meant no room, no kids or no stroller -- or all the above -- but we made haste to depart.
Joe waved at the patrons in the window on the way by later.
From lunch we headed to the chocolate museum – a more upscale version than the one in Brussels. We got samples on the way in and wandered through 3 floors of chocolate info – history, marketing, manufacturing, etc. The last stop was the kitchen, where a chef was giving a demo and distributing REALLY good chocolate.
We then wandered the neighborhood around the chocolate museum and found a lovely church, Baroque style.
After a stroll along the canals we jumped into a long line for a horse carriage ride per Claire’s request. Thankfuly it was in the town square area, which makes for great people watching. Plenty of sidewalk cafes, some carnival rides, snack stands, etc.
Eventually Lynn and Bernard (Lynn being the carriage driver, Bernard the big black horse in front) picked us up, charged us an exhorbitant amount of money for a 45 minute ride around the city and off we went.
Claire sat next to Lynn on the buckboard for the first half of the ride, Ava for the second. Bernard rootie toot tooted on Ava’s watch -- Ava rolled her eyes at Lynn, much to the latter's amusement. Kids got to see Bernard get a snack and water break half way through the ride. No doubt the horses have a good gig going in Belgium, in contrast to those poor over used animals in India -- here they work every other day, have food/water breaks in the midst of each ride and only give 8 rides per day. (I actually believe it; the lobby for animal care is probably just as vocal as it is for human health care in Belgium).
After a fun jaunt around town, Lynn gave us a recommendation for dinner – traditional Flemish food at a nearby restaurant. Lovely, warm little place with Flemish tapestries on the walls.
Joe and I got the fillet for two, the kids shared a fried fish and we all dove into the fries – very good meal with a lovely bottle of red wine to accompany it. For dessert Claire opted for lemon sorbet, A for 3 kinds of ice cream (she’s into coffee flavored ice cream these days – I need someone to be a fellow coffee connoisseur in the future), I had a decadent chocolate mousse and Joe had some ice cream concoction.
As we made our way to the train station we stopped in the cathedral – the largest building in town, which also boasts the lengthiest history of any in Bruges. (Holy Savior Cathedral was not originally built to be a cathedral; when it was founded in the 10th century it was a common parish church.) Over time it's grown and changed, becoming a cathedral in the 19th century.
The path to the station took us to another town square and fountain, lots of flowers and plenty of people out and about. We hit the station at 8:29, ran for the 8:31 train to Brussels and voila – arrived an hour later!
The driver’s excuse for wanting 10 euros from us for a 6 euro ride was because he had to sit at the hotel for an hour waiting for a customer. And we were supposed to compensate for this?
The ride to Bruges was quick, kids enjoyed the train and the deep green farmland, small villages with lovely churches and steeples, brick houses with triangular roofs, a few horses and cows sprinkled in, made for a lovely view.
We were in Bruges by 11, headed for the city center and hit the canal ride first. A nice way to tour the city from the water, our guide gave a spiel in 6 different languages (diverse group of tourists, obviously).
Bruges’ many gorgeous buildings dating back to the 11th century are mainly intact as the city was untouched during both world wars. Thus it’s a lovely place…gorgeous architecture, winding streets, canals, flowers in bloom.
Five km of canals around the city are devoted to tourism. The area used to be at sea level and you can still take canals out to sea (the outer ones, not the ones we sailed). The boat took us under bridges built in the 13th and 15th centuries. We saw many of the city’s key sites – old hospital (now museum), a house that looks like a church, cathedral, many other churches (I think there are 16 or more, and only one of them isn’t Catholic).
Today Bruges has a large Italian population, per our boat driver. People here speak Flemish as it’s in one of Belgium’s Flemish states (I think he said 4 are Flemish speaking, 4 French).
After the boat ride we looked for the Godiva factory but apparently it’s left Bruges so we took refuge at a pub near the fish market for lunch. We sat outside and enjoyed the sunshine, beer and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. This was after attempting to eat at an Italian restaurant that looked like it had great pizza (apparently I hadn’t gotten my fill from the previous night).
When we came in (kids and me), the waitress looked at us and said “no.” Not sure if that meant no room, no kids or no stroller -- or all the above -- but we made haste to depart.
Joe waved at the patrons in the window on the way by later.
From lunch we headed to the chocolate museum – a more upscale version than the one in Brussels. We got samples on the way in and wandered through 3 floors of chocolate info – history, marketing, manufacturing, etc. The last stop was the kitchen, where a chef was giving a demo and distributing REALLY good chocolate.
We then wandered the neighborhood around the chocolate museum and found a lovely church, Baroque style.
After a stroll along the canals we jumped into a long line for a horse carriage ride per Claire’s request. Thankfuly it was in the town square area, which makes for great people watching. Plenty of sidewalk cafes, some carnival rides, snack stands, etc.
Eventually Lynn and Bernard (Lynn being the carriage driver, Bernard the big black horse in front) picked us up, charged us an exhorbitant amount of money for a 45 minute ride around the city and off we went.
Claire sat next to Lynn on the buckboard for the first half of the ride, Ava for the second. Bernard rootie toot tooted on Ava’s watch -- Ava rolled her eyes at Lynn, much to the latter's amusement. Kids got to see Bernard get a snack and water break half way through the ride. No doubt the horses have a good gig going in Belgium, in contrast to those poor over used animals in India -- here they work every other day, have food/water breaks in the midst of each ride and only give 8 rides per day. (I actually believe it; the lobby for animal care is probably just as vocal as it is for human health care in Belgium).
After a fun jaunt around town, Lynn gave us a recommendation for dinner – traditional Flemish food at a nearby restaurant. Lovely, warm little place with Flemish tapestries on the walls.
Joe and I got the fillet for two, the kids shared a fried fish and we all dove into the fries – very good meal with a lovely bottle of red wine to accompany it. For dessert Claire opted for lemon sorbet, A for 3 kinds of ice cream (she’s into coffee flavored ice cream these days – I need someone to be a fellow coffee connoisseur in the future), I had a decadent chocolate mousse and Joe had some ice cream concoction.
As we made our way to the train station we stopped in the cathedral – the largest building in town, which also boasts the lengthiest history of any in Bruges. (Holy Savior Cathedral was not originally built to be a cathedral; when it was founded in the 10th century it was a common parish church.) Over time it's grown and changed, becoming a cathedral in the 19th century.
The path to the station took us to another town square and fountain, lots of flowers and plenty of people out and about. We hit the station at 8:29, ran for the 8:31 train to Brussels and voila – arrived an hour later!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Good Friday in Brussels
After sleeping in we headed out in search of waffles for breakfast – alas settling for decadent pastries at a lovely little Belgian café near the hotel. (Seemed quite French to me, maybe that’s an affront to the Belgians – who knows?)
Our hotel was city centre so lots of shops and businesses around us – little side streets lined w/ restaurants. We sat outside; the weather was lovely – blue skies and warm.
After coffee, decadent hot chocolate, chocolate croissants for Joe and Claire, a scrumptious cherry pastry for me and a chocolate brownie for Ava, we were sugared up and ready to start our day. (The brownie was masquerading as a muffin, but it ended up being more like fudge cake. I'll justify by stating that since muffins are generally cakelike, what does it matter if we go straight for the heavy duty dessert?!?)
We took the tram to the Grand Market area and checked out the Cathedral. (It’s actually the St. Michael and Gudula Cathedral, but that’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?)
Named for the patron saints of Belgium, said Cathedras is Belgium’s primary church, completed in 1047, when Saint Gudula’s relics were transferred to it. (Apparently she was the daughter of a 7th-century Carolingian nobleman).
In the 1200’s the cathedral was renovated in the Gothic style; the choir was constructed between 1226 and 1276, the facade was completed in the mid 15th century.
Today the Cathedral of St. Michael and Gudula is the episcopal see of the Archbishop of Mechlin-Brussels and therefore the leading Catholic church in Belgium. It’s also the site of all royal weddings and christenings.
Of note: the stained glass windows, designed by various artists including Bernard van Orley, a 16th-century court painter, whose windows are the most spectacular (per the Cathedral’s web site – they all looked good to me).
When we wandered through a painting exhibit – folds – was sprinkled throughout the place. Beautiful, a bit ethereal, folds of cloth were painted in various hues of cream, symbolizing Christ’s ascension.
The church was also being prepared for Easter, with several laides putting gorgeous bright yellow flower arrangements together behind the altar.
From the Cathedral, set on a hill overlooking the city, we headed down to the cartoon museum. There caricatures and cartoon strips, historical information about the development of cartoon art, freedom of speech and information about Belgian’s renowned cartoonists is displayed. It was a beautifully organized, inviting exhibit, much of it in French and Flemish, but we gleaned a greater understanding of the process through artists’ tools and works in progress and could appreciate the sheer artistry and work that went into making the hundreds of strips housed in the museum. A couple of TV screens also featured cartoons the kids enjoyed.
After the cartoon museum we went in search of the legendary Belgian waffles, were pointed to an outdoor stand by a restauranteur soliciting for business. Success! The kids each got chocolate ones, warm and melty. They ate outside by St. Nicholas church. We then traced our steps back to the restauranteur who’d helped us out and opted to eat at his seafood restaurant, set on one of the narrow streets lined with al fresco dining spots.
Our perch was great for people watching -- outside, tucked into a corner away from the walking path. Tourists, locals, families, Asian tour groups, ladies out shopping, teenagers with loads of piercings, men smoking, plenty of dogs being walked…we saw a little of everything meander by.
For lunch Joe and I tried a couple of leffe beers (light and a little darker – good, but I liked Jupiler better) and some fabulous whole grain rolls, shrimp that was outstanding, fries and chicken. At the table adjacent to us a pampered pooch had its own seat with a group of ladies. The dog was dressed in a snappy little outfit and was being hand fed mussels by its owner. Rough life.
After lunch we wandered to the square; Claire and I peeled off to check out the fashion and lace museum, which is fabulous. It’s tucked away on a side street near tons of lace shops – 3 stories of fashion exhibits very tastefully done.
We were given a guide in English w/ verbiage corresponding to a number on each dress exhibited so we took turns reading about the evolution of fashion in the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s. Gorgeous day, evening, cocktail and wedding dresses were exhibited, having been produced by couture houses, many worn by models.
The brochure had all kinds of details on fastenings, pleats, types of sleeves, some of the events to which they were worn. Along with the dress displays were some photos of the women who’d worn the gowns, and hats, furs, patterns, lace and other accessories were showcased.
We rejoined Joe and Ava for ice cream, then rubbed our hands over the brass effigy of the mediaeval knight ‘t Serclaes near Town Hall for good luck. (He defended the city in the 14th century, saving it from falling into the clutches of the Count of Flanders).
From there we tried another chocolate shop (why not?!).
No doubt a sugar crash led us back to the hotel for recovery, then we wandered out for dinner, settling on an Italian sidewalk café. Our waiter, an elderly man with round glasses, took our order. He stood at the end of the table and simply shouted everything we wanted to his staff nearby. Food and drinks were delivered by a swarm of young, fast-moving Italians. Not a bad gig that older waiter has (maybe he owns the join?!?).
Anyway, great pizza (just like those mouth watering pizzas we ate a ton of when I roved Italy 18 years ago – am I that old? Was it really that long ago?). Claire’s chocolate mousse was out of this world.
Our hotel was city centre so lots of shops and businesses around us – little side streets lined w/ restaurants. We sat outside; the weather was lovely – blue skies and warm.
After coffee, decadent hot chocolate, chocolate croissants for Joe and Claire, a scrumptious cherry pastry for me and a chocolate brownie for Ava, we were sugared up and ready to start our day. (The brownie was masquerading as a muffin, but it ended up being more like fudge cake. I'll justify by stating that since muffins are generally cakelike, what does it matter if we go straight for the heavy duty dessert?!?)
We took the tram to the Grand Market area and checked out the Cathedral. (It’s actually the St. Michael and Gudula Cathedral, but that’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?)
Named for the patron saints of Belgium, said Cathedras is Belgium’s primary church, completed in 1047, when Saint Gudula’s relics were transferred to it. (Apparently she was the daughter of a 7th-century Carolingian nobleman).
In the 1200’s the cathedral was renovated in the Gothic style; the choir was constructed between 1226 and 1276, the facade was completed in the mid 15th century.
Today the Cathedral of St. Michael and Gudula is the episcopal see of the Archbishop of Mechlin-Brussels and therefore the leading Catholic church in Belgium. It’s also the site of all royal weddings and christenings.
Of note: the stained glass windows, designed by various artists including Bernard van Orley, a 16th-century court painter, whose windows are the most spectacular (per the Cathedral’s web site – they all looked good to me).
When we wandered through a painting exhibit – folds – was sprinkled throughout the place. Beautiful, a bit ethereal, folds of cloth were painted in various hues of cream, symbolizing Christ’s ascension.
The church was also being prepared for Easter, with several laides putting gorgeous bright yellow flower arrangements together behind the altar.
From the Cathedral, set on a hill overlooking the city, we headed down to the cartoon museum. There caricatures and cartoon strips, historical information about the development of cartoon art, freedom of speech and information about Belgian’s renowned cartoonists is displayed. It was a beautifully organized, inviting exhibit, much of it in French and Flemish, but we gleaned a greater understanding of the process through artists’ tools and works in progress and could appreciate the sheer artistry and work that went into making the hundreds of strips housed in the museum. A couple of TV screens also featured cartoons the kids enjoyed.
After the cartoon museum we went in search of the legendary Belgian waffles, were pointed to an outdoor stand by a restauranteur soliciting for business. Success! The kids each got chocolate ones, warm and melty. They ate outside by St. Nicholas church. We then traced our steps back to the restauranteur who’d helped us out and opted to eat at his seafood restaurant, set on one of the narrow streets lined with al fresco dining spots.
Our perch was great for people watching -- outside, tucked into a corner away from the walking path. Tourists, locals, families, Asian tour groups, ladies out shopping, teenagers with loads of piercings, men smoking, plenty of dogs being walked…we saw a little of everything meander by.
For lunch Joe and I tried a couple of leffe beers (light and a little darker – good, but I liked Jupiler better) and some fabulous whole grain rolls, shrimp that was outstanding, fries and chicken. At the table adjacent to us a pampered pooch had its own seat with a group of ladies. The dog was dressed in a snappy little outfit and was being hand fed mussels by its owner. Rough life.
After lunch we wandered to the square; Claire and I peeled off to check out the fashion and lace museum, which is fabulous. It’s tucked away on a side street near tons of lace shops – 3 stories of fashion exhibits very tastefully done.
We were given a guide in English w/ verbiage corresponding to a number on each dress exhibited so we took turns reading about the evolution of fashion in the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s. Gorgeous day, evening, cocktail and wedding dresses were exhibited, having been produced by couture houses, many worn by models.
The brochure had all kinds of details on fastenings, pleats, types of sleeves, some of the events to which they were worn. Along with the dress displays were some photos of the women who’d worn the gowns, and hats, furs, patterns, lace and other accessories were showcased.
We rejoined Joe and Ava for ice cream, then rubbed our hands over the brass effigy of the mediaeval knight ‘t Serclaes near Town Hall for good luck. (He defended the city in the 14th century, saving it from falling into the clutches of the Count of Flanders).
From there we tried another chocolate shop (why not?!).
No doubt a sugar crash led us back to the hotel for recovery, then we wandered out for dinner, settling on an Italian sidewalk café. Our waiter, an elderly man with round glasses, took our order. He stood at the end of the table and simply shouted everything we wanted to his staff nearby. Food and drinks were delivered by a swarm of young, fast-moving Italians. Not a bad gig that older waiter has (maybe he owns the join?!?).
Anyway, great pizza (just like those mouth watering pizzas we ate a ton of when I roved Italy 18 years ago – am I that old? Was it really that long ago?). Claire’s chocolate mousse was out of this world.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Off to Brussels on Maundy Thursday
Easter/Spring Break
I’ll work backwards on this one…Happy Belated Easter to all; we spent ours in Belgium, where there certainly seem to be – quite appropriately – plenty of churches. And we wandered through a number of them (lovely but like Hindu temples, they start to blend together in one’s mind, or at least in mine).
Anyway, we had a lovely holiday, left on Maundy Thursday (Holy Thursday in our neck of the woods). Apparently in England the term is widely used, though not so in Ireland, and its use varies geographically and from religion to religion. So there you go, I’ve just increased your vocabulary.
Our Maundy Thursday started with us scrambling to get out the door as our mini-cab driver (cab isn’t smaller than a black one, just not the same cool London cab you see in all the ads…but it’s cheaper. And at least in this instance, efficient – maybe too efficient).
We got to Saint Pancras train station in plenty of time, retrieved our Eurostar tickets from the machine, zipped through security and immigration, then hopped on the 8:34 a.m. train to Brussels.
Easy, relaxing, clean train ride and speedy too – we were in Brussels 2 hours and 15 minutes later. (At times the thing goes 180 mph.)
Plenty of tunnels, green green green grass/farmland (now I’m dying to see more of the English countryside, especially this time of year). Upon arrival at the train station we of course had to hit a bathroom; en route we passed a mime, a violinist and a lady in the loo handing out cookies. (Yes, Claire has us all calling it the loo at this point.)
We cabbed it to our hotel, then headed via tram to the Grand Place, Brussels’ “center” spot, if you will. Certainly for tourists. Our first stop was lunch. We found a great restaurant near the square located in an old cellar built in the 1600’s. It was cozy and warm on a gray Belgium day, menu was all Greek to us – well French – waiter helped us out though.
Joe’s burger arrived w/ a fried egg on top, the chicken fillets came with pasta sauce, much to the girls’ consternation and I very much enjoyed Belgium’s traditional dish: mussels and French fries. (The fries here are big, meaty and crispy. Perfect. They make McDonalds look puny and cheap.)
That and Belgium beer and we were set.
From there we hit the chocolate museum, located in an old house near the main square – 3 floors of chocolate information and memorabilia.
First we were given samples – yum – then caught part of a chocolate demonstration (in French). The woman in the apron was pouring rich, delicious smelling chocolate into molds. Looked good to me.
Other aspects of the exhibit dealt with growing cocoa beans, harvest, fermentation, drying, etc. Work intensive. The exhibit referenced how the popularity of chocolate spread, how originally it was just a drink, etc.
Then on to Neuhaus (one of doznes of chocolate shops) to sample more Belgian chocolate. We sat outside amidst the growing crowd in the square – lots of people out and about enjoying the warm day (the sun had decided to join us), then we went to the Brussels City museum, which is in the King's House (a lovely, ornate old building) in the Grand'place of Brussels. (The museum opened its doors as such in 1887.)
The top floor boasts 600+ costumes donated to the city for the statue Manneken Pis (Dutch for little pee man). A famous Brussels landmark, Manneken Pis is a fountain sculpture depicting a naked little boy urinating into the fountain's basin.
On various occasions the statue is costumed, changed according to a schedule managed by the non-profit association The Friends of Manneken-Pis, in ceremonies that are often accompanied by brass band music (per wikipedia).
On occasion, the statue is hooked up to a keg of beer and cups are handed to passers-by.
The Manneken Pis costumes we saw at the museum reflect various countries, areas of Belgium, occupations, military branches, global causes, stars (i.e. Elvis), ways of life, etc. An interactive computer gave more detail on costume donors, when they were donated, etc.
We then checked out the other floors of the museum – different aspects of Brussels’ history and art – city development, fire, paintings, sculptures, etc.
Then we headed off to find the infamous statue, winding through narrow streets and checking out all the chocolate shops and lace shops. Plenty of bars and cafes, too. I suspect people here spend plenty of money on beer, coffee and chocolate. I joined in as much as possible, throwing in a few waffles, too.
Ava soon feel asleep in the stroller – bumpy cobblestones and all. (If the stroller decomposes before our eyes it will be because of Brussels’ streets.)
At our last stop – St. Nicholas Church – they were setting up for the Last Supper. Since we weren’t invited we elected to collapse at the hotel.
About the Church (it has an interesting history so I will bore you w/ the details):
One of the oldest churches in Brussels, Saint Nicholas Church was named after Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of the traders because the market was just around the corner. The church was built in an asymmetrical way because a small brook used to run through the street.
The entrance to Saint Nicholas dates from the second half of the 12th century, the choir was completed in 1381 and the side-chapel, devoted to the Holy Virgin, was constructed in 1486.
During religious troubles in the 16th century, the church was plundered and in 1695, during the bombing of Brussels by the French troops, it burned completely. In one of the pillars of the Holy Virgin chapel a canon ball can still be seen (we saw it).
During the Middle Ages St. Nicholas’ tower served as the city belfry (watchtower), but in 1714 it collapsed, killing 1 man and 1 pig – is that a holy way to go or what?).
In 1929 a plan was proposed to demolish the church because it hindered the traffic in the Boterstraat. This plan was never executed, and the old houses surrounding the church have also been preserved.
For dinner we hit a French restaurant near the hotel. Our waitress walked us through the menu – we had to laugh as she described the poultry dish – “it’s between a chicken and a turkey.” (What might that be? Wasn’t a duck; she described that later.)
Re: the last dish…we didn’t understand her first explanation so she said “balls” quite clearly with a gesture to get the point across.
We didn’t order the tur-chicken or the rocky mountain oysters, instead opting for lamb, beef and pasta. All good, lovely ambience and service.
I’ll work backwards on this one…Happy Belated Easter to all; we spent ours in Belgium, where there certainly seem to be – quite appropriately – plenty of churches. And we wandered through a number of them (lovely but like Hindu temples, they start to blend together in one’s mind, or at least in mine).
Anyway, we had a lovely holiday, left on Maundy Thursday (Holy Thursday in our neck of the woods). Apparently in England the term is widely used, though not so in Ireland, and its use varies geographically and from religion to religion. So there you go, I’ve just increased your vocabulary.
Our Maundy Thursday started with us scrambling to get out the door as our mini-cab driver (cab isn’t smaller than a black one, just not the same cool London cab you see in all the ads…but it’s cheaper. And at least in this instance, efficient – maybe too efficient).
We got to Saint Pancras train station in plenty of time, retrieved our Eurostar tickets from the machine, zipped through security and immigration, then hopped on the 8:34 a.m. train to Brussels.
Easy, relaxing, clean train ride and speedy too – we were in Brussels 2 hours and 15 minutes later. (At times the thing goes 180 mph.)
Plenty of tunnels, green green green grass/farmland (now I’m dying to see more of the English countryside, especially this time of year). Upon arrival at the train station we of course had to hit a bathroom; en route we passed a mime, a violinist and a lady in the loo handing out cookies. (Yes, Claire has us all calling it the loo at this point.)
We cabbed it to our hotel, then headed via tram to the Grand Place, Brussels’ “center” spot, if you will. Certainly for tourists. Our first stop was lunch. We found a great restaurant near the square located in an old cellar built in the 1600’s. It was cozy and warm on a gray Belgium day, menu was all Greek to us – well French – waiter helped us out though.
Joe’s burger arrived w/ a fried egg on top, the chicken fillets came with pasta sauce, much to the girls’ consternation and I very much enjoyed Belgium’s traditional dish: mussels and French fries. (The fries here are big, meaty and crispy. Perfect. They make McDonalds look puny and cheap.)
That and Belgium beer and we were set.
From there we hit the chocolate museum, located in an old house near the main square – 3 floors of chocolate information and memorabilia.
First we were given samples – yum – then caught part of a chocolate demonstration (in French). The woman in the apron was pouring rich, delicious smelling chocolate into molds. Looked good to me.
Other aspects of the exhibit dealt with growing cocoa beans, harvest, fermentation, drying, etc. Work intensive. The exhibit referenced how the popularity of chocolate spread, how originally it was just a drink, etc.
Then on to Neuhaus (one of doznes of chocolate shops) to sample more Belgian chocolate. We sat outside amidst the growing crowd in the square – lots of people out and about enjoying the warm day (the sun had decided to join us), then we went to the Brussels City museum, which is in the King's House (a lovely, ornate old building) in the Grand'place of Brussels. (The museum opened its doors as such in 1887.)
The top floor boasts 600+ costumes donated to the city for the statue Manneken Pis (Dutch for little pee man). A famous Brussels landmark, Manneken Pis is a fountain sculpture depicting a naked little boy urinating into the fountain's basin.
On various occasions the statue is costumed, changed according to a schedule managed by the non-profit association The Friends of Manneken-Pis, in ceremonies that are often accompanied by brass band music (per wikipedia).
On occasion, the statue is hooked up to a keg of beer and cups are handed to passers-by.
The Manneken Pis costumes we saw at the museum reflect various countries, areas of Belgium, occupations, military branches, global causes, stars (i.e. Elvis), ways of life, etc. An interactive computer gave more detail on costume donors, when they were donated, etc.
We then checked out the other floors of the museum – different aspects of Brussels’ history and art – city development, fire, paintings, sculptures, etc.
Then we headed off to find the infamous statue, winding through narrow streets and checking out all the chocolate shops and lace shops. Plenty of bars and cafes, too. I suspect people here spend plenty of money on beer, coffee and chocolate. I joined in as much as possible, throwing in a few waffles, too.
Ava soon feel asleep in the stroller – bumpy cobblestones and all. (If the stroller decomposes before our eyes it will be because of Brussels’ streets.)
At our last stop – St. Nicholas Church – they were setting up for the Last Supper. Since we weren’t invited we elected to collapse at the hotel.
About the Church (it has an interesting history so I will bore you w/ the details):
One of the oldest churches in Brussels, Saint Nicholas Church was named after Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of the traders because the market was just around the corner. The church was built in an asymmetrical way because a small brook used to run through the street.
The entrance to Saint Nicholas dates from the second half of the 12th century, the choir was completed in 1381 and the side-chapel, devoted to the Holy Virgin, was constructed in 1486.
During religious troubles in the 16th century, the church was plundered and in 1695, during the bombing of Brussels by the French troops, it burned completely. In one of the pillars of the Holy Virgin chapel a canon ball can still be seen (we saw it).
During the Middle Ages St. Nicholas’ tower served as the city belfry (watchtower), but in 1714 it collapsed, killing 1 man and 1 pig – is that a holy way to go or what?).
In 1929 a plan was proposed to demolish the church because it hindered the traffic in the Boterstraat. This plan was never executed, and the old houses surrounding the church have also been preserved.
For dinner we hit a French restaurant near the hotel. Our waitress walked us through the menu – we had to laugh as she described the poultry dish – “it’s between a chicken and a turkey.” (What might that be? Wasn’t a duck; she described that later.)
Re: the last dish…we didn’t understand her first explanation so she said “balls” quite clearly with a gesture to get the point across.
We didn’t order the tur-chicken or the rocky mountain oysters, instead opting for lamb, beef and pasta. All good, lovely ambience and service.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Shopping, Cabbages and Frocks and a Really Good Beach
My latest greatest adventure these days is furnishing the house, which we should move into mid-month. (I say should because moving does hinge on having beds for sleeping...)
Thursday Ava and I measured rooms and photographed spaces in our house, which is an old Victorian home (no, I don’t know when it was built) in St. Johns Wood. It’s on a lovely street lined with other brownstones; behind us is a private garden shared by us and our future neighbors.
Anyway, since we left all of our forks, hangers, pillows (not to mention couches, TVs and beds) in North Carolina (and no, we really haven’t missed anything, certainly not enough to go get it) it’s SHOPPING TIME!
Ava and Eva hung out (Eva being our Polish babysitter, Ivonne was from Bolivia – international childcare at its best) while I shopped at John Lewis, which I’m told is your all around good service/quality/price provider.
Actually I was helped by Tony from Perth (you might wonder if anyone I interact with on a day to day is from England), who was a great help in figuring out what would work best in our narrow, 4 level place. He’s a John Lewis furniture advisor and seemed to “get” what we’re looking for – furniture w/ clean lines, neutral, casual and comfortable.
Round 2 of shopping will take place later today: rugs and electronics.
I’ve also spent a good deal of time on Amazon, seeking out the deals on house wares. All fun and games but a bit time consuming.
Friday evening Joe and I had a date, this time to a pub called The Engineer in Primrose Hill, not far from us. It’s a neat little gastropub with the best fries I’ve had in I’m not sure how long – really thick and meaty, with just the right crisp salty but not too salty coating, meaty warm potato inside.
The lamb was superb, too; we finished the evening with desserts at a French café in St. Johns Wood.
And Saturday we all slept in, then wandered down to the Cabbages and Frocks market near Baker Street. It didn’t live up to its name, not a single cabbage to be found, and there were a few frocks but nothing to write home about.
However, we did enjoy some farm-fresh sausages a young guy was diligently grilling and serving with freshly grilled onions. The Lincolnshire ones are his most popular, so that’s what Joe and I had; Ava had a curled up beef sausage and Claire went with a big, meaty burger. All served on homemade rolls.
We also loaded up on hot chocolate at the café truck, which apparently pulls into the Cabbages and Frocks market (in a green “circle” near a big Methodist church off Marylebone Street) each week.
Oh, the other thing that rocked were the cupcakes – we hit the cupcake lady’s stand after a little sojourn down Marylebone High Street (not to be confused with the former Marylebone).
The area is packed with cool cafes, and since it was a very nice day, everyone in London was sitting outside, drinking beer, wine or coffee. (Those people who worry about waiting until 5:00 don’t live here, apparently.)
I stopped in a couple of great cheese, meat and bread shops. Claire’s the bread picker these days so we got our loaf and found Joe and Ava in a park. That, too, was cool; London’s green spaces and playgrounds are awesome. (Of course coming from India we’re probably easy to impress in the playground department.)
We ended our outing w/ a few errands and a Stella Artoise at home.
Sunday we made haste to hit Westminster Cathedral for Palm Sunday Mass. We slid in a couple minutes late, but then so did half the congregation. A lovely place for worship, it’s hard to take in the enormity of the place.
Some info…
The Cathedral Church of Westminster -- dedicated to the Most Precious Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ -- was designed in the Early Christian Byzantine style by Victorian architect John Francis Bentley. The foundation stone was laid in 1895, the fabric of the building completed eight years later.
The interior, though incomplete, contains fine marble-work and mosaics. The fourteen Stations of the Cross by sculptor Eric Gill are world renowned.
The Cathedral site had a varied past – it was originally known as Bulinga Fen and formed part of the marsh around Westminster. Reclaimed by the Benedictine monks (the builders and owners of Westminster Abbey), the space was then used as a market and fairground. After reformation the land was used as a maze, a pleasure garden and as a ring for bull-baiting (I’ve heard of bull fighting, but bull baiting?).
In the 17th century part of the land was sold for the construction of a prison which was demolished and replaced by an enlarged prison complex in 1834. The site was acquired by the Catholic Church in 1884.
I must say Westminster’s 9:00 mass was the shortest Palm Sunday experience I’ve ever had. We were done before 10. (Apparently they had a bigger service with procession (?) later in the morning, so opted for the shorter reading and passed on a homily.)
Afterward we wandered through the cathedral, then went up to the bell tower to check out London from above. Nice, clear day so we saw plenty of buildings, old and new, and a plethora of cranes. We could see St. James Park, Buckingham Palace, Houses of Parliament, Canary Wharf, etc. And a great view of the main part of the cathedral below. (It has a name, I just can’t remember it.)
From there we set off walking to Buckingham Palace, where changing of the guard was not happening (it’s every other day) but a big crowd was gathered anyway. We joined them for a bit, watching the guards occasionally stride, then wandered on to find a pub for lunch. We passed guards on horses at the Household Cavalry Museum, which of course captivated the kids.
And for lunch we landed at a pub near Trafalgar Square, a sleepy breakfast/paper reading kind of place with decent bar food, where we perched at a tall table.
Yesterday (Monday) the kids and I, after a slow start, headed off to the National Portrait Gallery for one of their family events. The place offers workshops for lids over the age of 5 (ok I fudged a little on A’s age); today’s was an hour and a half program on mobile portraits. (The gist: creating from felt a representation of yourself and the things/people you enjoy and making a mobile with them.) First step was drawing the ideas, then the kids had at it with glue and scissors.
They seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves, then we caught lunch at a spaghetti restaurant, shlepped up to the grocery store and collapsed at home.
Ava was talking about various countries yesterday, so I asked which was her favorite – Australia, the US, England, India, Singapore. Her very firm answer was: “A country with a BEACH.”
So there you have it. The secret to choosing the best place to live is not culture, infrastructure, standard of living, weather or lifestyle.
It's simply access to a good beach.
Thursday Ava and I measured rooms and photographed spaces in our house, which is an old Victorian home (no, I don’t know when it was built) in St. Johns Wood. It’s on a lovely street lined with other brownstones; behind us is a private garden shared by us and our future neighbors.
Anyway, since we left all of our forks, hangers, pillows (not to mention couches, TVs and beds) in North Carolina (and no, we really haven’t missed anything, certainly not enough to go get it) it’s SHOPPING TIME!
Ava and Eva hung out (Eva being our Polish babysitter, Ivonne was from Bolivia – international childcare at its best) while I shopped at John Lewis, which I’m told is your all around good service/quality/price provider.
Actually I was helped by Tony from Perth (you might wonder if anyone I interact with on a day to day is from England), who was a great help in figuring out what would work best in our narrow, 4 level place. He’s a John Lewis furniture advisor and seemed to “get” what we’re looking for – furniture w/ clean lines, neutral, casual and comfortable.
Round 2 of shopping will take place later today: rugs and electronics.
I’ve also spent a good deal of time on Amazon, seeking out the deals on house wares. All fun and games but a bit time consuming.
Friday evening Joe and I had a date, this time to a pub called The Engineer in Primrose Hill, not far from us. It’s a neat little gastropub with the best fries I’ve had in I’m not sure how long – really thick and meaty, with just the right crisp salty but not too salty coating, meaty warm potato inside.
The lamb was superb, too; we finished the evening with desserts at a French café in St. Johns Wood.
And Saturday we all slept in, then wandered down to the Cabbages and Frocks market near Baker Street. It didn’t live up to its name, not a single cabbage to be found, and there were a few frocks but nothing to write home about.
However, we did enjoy some farm-fresh sausages a young guy was diligently grilling and serving with freshly grilled onions. The Lincolnshire ones are his most popular, so that’s what Joe and I had; Ava had a curled up beef sausage and Claire went with a big, meaty burger. All served on homemade rolls.
We also loaded up on hot chocolate at the café truck, which apparently pulls into the Cabbages and Frocks market (in a green “circle” near a big Methodist church off Marylebone Street) each week.
Oh, the other thing that rocked were the cupcakes – we hit the cupcake lady’s stand after a little sojourn down Marylebone High Street (not to be confused with the former Marylebone).
The area is packed with cool cafes, and since it was a very nice day, everyone in London was sitting outside, drinking beer, wine or coffee. (Those people who worry about waiting until 5:00 don’t live here, apparently.)
I stopped in a couple of great cheese, meat and bread shops. Claire’s the bread picker these days so we got our loaf and found Joe and Ava in a park. That, too, was cool; London’s green spaces and playgrounds are awesome. (Of course coming from India we’re probably easy to impress in the playground department.)
We ended our outing w/ a few errands and a Stella Artoise at home.
Sunday we made haste to hit Westminster Cathedral for Palm Sunday Mass. We slid in a couple minutes late, but then so did half the congregation. A lovely place for worship, it’s hard to take in the enormity of the place.
Some info…
The Cathedral Church of Westminster -- dedicated to the Most Precious Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ -- was designed in the Early Christian Byzantine style by Victorian architect John Francis Bentley. The foundation stone was laid in 1895, the fabric of the building completed eight years later.
The interior, though incomplete, contains fine marble-work and mosaics. The fourteen Stations of the Cross by sculptor Eric Gill are world renowned.
The Cathedral site had a varied past – it was originally known as Bulinga Fen and formed part of the marsh around Westminster. Reclaimed by the Benedictine monks (the builders and owners of Westminster Abbey), the space was then used as a market and fairground. After reformation the land was used as a maze, a pleasure garden and as a ring for bull-baiting (I’ve heard of bull fighting, but bull baiting?).
In the 17th century part of the land was sold for the construction of a prison which was demolished and replaced by an enlarged prison complex in 1834. The site was acquired by the Catholic Church in 1884.
I must say Westminster’s 9:00 mass was the shortest Palm Sunday experience I’ve ever had. We were done before 10. (Apparently they had a bigger service with procession (?) later in the morning, so opted for the shorter reading and passed on a homily.)
Afterward we wandered through the cathedral, then went up to the bell tower to check out London from above. Nice, clear day so we saw plenty of buildings, old and new, and a plethora of cranes. We could see St. James Park, Buckingham Palace, Houses of Parliament, Canary Wharf, etc. And a great view of the main part of the cathedral below. (It has a name, I just can’t remember it.)
From there we set off walking to Buckingham Palace, where changing of the guard was not happening (it’s every other day) but a big crowd was gathered anyway. We joined them for a bit, watching the guards occasionally stride, then wandered on to find a pub for lunch. We passed guards on horses at the Household Cavalry Museum, which of course captivated the kids.
And for lunch we landed at a pub near Trafalgar Square, a sleepy breakfast/paper reading kind of place with decent bar food, where we perched at a tall table.
Yesterday (Monday) the kids and I, after a slow start, headed off to the National Portrait Gallery for one of their family events. The place offers workshops for lids over the age of 5 (ok I fudged a little on A’s age); today’s was an hour and a half program on mobile portraits. (The gist: creating from felt a representation of yourself and the things/people you enjoy and making a mobile with them.) First step was drawing the ideas, then the kids had at it with glue and scissors.
They seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves, then we caught lunch at a spaghetti restaurant, shlepped up to the grocery store and collapsed at home.
Ava was talking about various countries yesterday, so I asked which was her favorite – Australia, the US, England, India, Singapore. Her very firm answer was: “A country with a BEACH.”
So there you have it. The secret to choosing the best place to live is not culture, infrastructure, standard of living, weather or lifestyle.
It's simply access to a good beach.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Culture culture and more culture
April 2
Well…the big news here of course is the G20 and protestors. While I do love to check everything out, I passed on the action down in the banking center yesterday. I figure Obama needs as much support as he can get if he’s going to fulfill any of his campaign promises.
You can feel the buzz of excitement here over the whole thing and plenty of news to incite yet larger demonstrations. We’ll see what today brings…
Unfortunately, the American School kids did not get to see the Prez, who apparently mentioned dropping in for a walk-through prior to his evening event there on Tuesday. (A group of ASL kids did get to see Clinton several years ago when he came through; they were bussed down to Hyde Park for meet/greet/photos.)
We saw plenty of snipers setting up on the roof and no doubt we were all being watched like hawks as we left the high school performance of Grease Tuesday afternoon. (Kids did a great job, Claire thoroughly enjoyed it, Ava thought the music was great but that it was 20 minutes too long. At least that’s what I inferred from the “when is it going to be OVER?” stage whispers.)
Tuesday was a big day for me – I spent some time at the National Portrait Gallery, where a Richter exhibit is on display. (That would be Gerhard Richter, one of world’s greatest living artists. Yes, well I found that online.)
Anyway, I very much enjoyed the exhibit – not terribly large, it came with a written guide to each photo – great way to understand the works better. Essentially, per Richter “A portrait must not express anything of the sitter's 'soul', essence or character.” Thus many of his works are deliberately “veiled” or appear to have a veneer over the subject matter, leaving a sense of mystery, of surface that is skimmed over rather than delved into.
Very cool, very good reminder that rarely is anything as it seems.
After wandering through Richter’s exhibition, I tuned into an exhibit of John Constable’s portraits (with a few landscapes thrown in). He is “celebrated as one of England’s greatest landscape artists but he also excelled in capturing likenesses and personalities.”
Paintings of Constable, drawings of friends and family, his wife and children and areas around his home were on display, as were wealthy families, clergymen and landed gentry (great terminology, landed gentry).
From the Portrait Gallery I headed to lunch at an incredible little deli that called to me en route to the paintings: Gaby’s. It was the food in the windows that was bellowing: a whole bunch of delicious looking side dishes, with a big sign for salted beef.
I bypassed the takeout counter and took a table; on the wall were all kinds of newspaper articles applauding the food, a picture of Matt Damon with the chef (that sold me, I’m sure my husband will say). I had the falafel but the owner gave me a slice of salted beef on the way out, told me it was better than America’s corned beef (salted beef/corned beef = same thing). Now I need to go back and tell him my mom makes a mean corned beef and cabbage. Plus I need to go back and have one of those salted beef sandwiches – the falafel was the best I’d ever had and that sample of salted beef was wicked good.
My high culture day – from portraits to Grease – continued with the ballet. I met up w/ a group of ladies from the international club at ASL for Swan Lake Tuesday evening. Great production, great theatre. I know very little about ballet, but Swan Lake was beautiful – a poignant love story with music that alone could carry one away. The ballerinas really did look like swans, so graceful and elegant. Apparently it was first performed in Russia in the 1800’s, circulating regularly today. Endings to the production vary; in this case the two lovers, unable to be together, commit suicide and are shown rising together to heaven in apotheosis.
One of the women in our group takes ballet twice a week, so it was interesting to hear her reactions, plus how cool is that to continue with ballet as a parent and adult. So often it seems we chauffeur our kids to activities and watch; it’s refreshing for them and us to change it up a bit.
Speaking of, yesterday I took my kids to school, then went to school myself. (Up to this point Ava’s been saying “Claire goes to school, I go to school, Dad goes to work, Mom goes home and does nothing.” Either that or she thinks I should grocery shop. Exciting stuff.)
My first day of class, “Ancient Britain,” kicked off yesterday – great group, mostly women, sharp and interesting. We discussed the first half of a very dry book (also called Ancient Britain) which contains very interesting information – descendents of 7 daughters of Eve, Britain as its own culture thousands of years BC, as opposed to a group that learned it all from the Romans, Celts, etc.
We’ll head to Stonehenge and a variety of other archeological sites as we get further into the material.
I did also watch a documentary on said material last night, great pictures of some of the sights where many artifacts and structures have been found. Not terribly exciting primetime viewing, per my husband’s reaction. He vacated the couch.
Today I got my first London hair cut – took a shot in the dark with a 29 pound offer for a 90 pound hair cut. Sounded like a great deal to me. After I’d booked I did think, gee what am I getting myself into flying blind w/ a hairdresser. (Reality is, the hair is already pretty short, what’s the worst he could do?) Plus it’s hair. Grows fast and is quite expendable.
I’m quite pleased with the result, I feel somewhat hip and young again – nothing too spiky or out there (but give me some time here and I may come home w/ it half shaved, complemented by a couple of groovy tattoos and some more piercings).
Well…the big news here of course is the G20 and protestors. While I do love to check everything out, I passed on the action down in the banking center yesterday. I figure Obama needs as much support as he can get if he’s going to fulfill any of his campaign promises.
You can feel the buzz of excitement here over the whole thing and plenty of news to incite yet larger demonstrations. We’ll see what today brings…
Unfortunately, the American School kids did not get to see the Prez, who apparently mentioned dropping in for a walk-through prior to his evening event there on Tuesday. (A group of ASL kids did get to see Clinton several years ago when he came through; they were bussed down to Hyde Park for meet/greet/photos.)
We saw plenty of snipers setting up on the roof and no doubt we were all being watched like hawks as we left the high school performance of Grease Tuesday afternoon. (Kids did a great job, Claire thoroughly enjoyed it, Ava thought the music was great but that it was 20 minutes too long. At least that’s what I inferred from the “when is it going to be OVER?” stage whispers.)
Tuesday was a big day for me – I spent some time at the National Portrait Gallery, where a Richter exhibit is on display. (That would be Gerhard Richter, one of world’s greatest living artists. Yes, well I found that online.)
Anyway, I very much enjoyed the exhibit – not terribly large, it came with a written guide to each photo – great way to understand the works better. Essentially, per Richter “A portrait must not express anything of the sitter's 'soul', essence or character.” Thus many of his works are deliberately “veiled” or appear to have a veneer over the subject matter, leaving a sense of mystery, of surface that is skimmed over rather than delved into.
Very cool, very good reminder that rarely is anything as it seems.
After wandering through Richter’s exhibition, I tuned into an exhibit of John Constable’s portraits (with a few landscapes thrown in). He is “celebrated as one of England’s greatest landscape artists but he also excelled in capturing likenesses and personalities.”
Paintings of Constable, drawings of friends and family, his wife and children and areas around his home were on display, as were wealthy families, clergymen and landed gentry (great terminology, landed gentry).
From the Portrait Gallery I headed to lunch at an incredible little deli that called to me en route to the paintings: Gaby’s. It was the food in the windows that was bellowing: a whole bunch of delicious looking side dishes, with a big sign for salted beef.
I bypassed the takeout counter and took a table; on the wall were all kinds of newspaper articles applauding the food, a picture of Matt Damon with the chef (that sold me, I’m sure my husband will say). I had the falafel but the owner gave me a slice of salted beef on the way out, told me it was better than America’s corned beef (salted beef/corned beef = same thing). Now I need to go back and tell him my mom makes a mean corned beef and cabbage. Plus I need to go back and have one of those salted beef sandwiches – the falafel was the best I’d ever had and that sample of salted beef was wicked good.
My high culture day – from portraits to Grease – continued with the ballet. I met up w/ a group of ladies from the international club at ASL for Swan Lake Tuesday evening. Great production, great theatre. I know very little about ballet, but Swan Lake was beautiful – a poignant love story with music that alone could carry one away. The ballerinas really did look like swans, so graceful and elegant. Apparently it was first performed in Russia in the 1800’s, circulating regularly today. Endings to the production vary; in this case the two lovers, unable to be together, commit suicide and are shown rising together to heaven in apotheosis.
One of the women in our group takes ballet twice a week, so it was interesting to hear her reactions, plus how cool is that to continue with ballet as a parent and adult. So often it seems we chauffeur our kids to activities and watch; it’s refreshing for them and us to change it up a bit.
Speaking of, yesterday I took my kids to school, then went to school myself. (Up to this point Ava’s been saying “Claire goes to school, I go to school, Dad goes to work, Mom goes home and does nothing.” Either that or she thinks I should grocery shop. Exciting stuff.)
My first day of class, “Ancient Britain,” kicked off yesterday – great group, mostly women, sharp and interesting. We discussed the first half of a very dry book (also called Ancient Britain) which contains very interesting information – descendents of 7 daughters of Eve, Britain as its own culture thousands of years BC, as opposed to a group that learned it all from the Romans, Celts, etc.
We’ll head to Stonehenge and a variety of other archeological sites as we get further into the material.
I did also watch a documentary on said material last night, great pictures of some of the sights where many artifacts and structures have been found. Not terribly exciting primetime viewing, per my husband’s reaction. He vacated the couch.
Today I got my first London hair cut – took a shot in the dark with a 29 pound offer for a 90 pound hair cut. Sounded like a great deal to me. After I’d booked I did think, gee what am I getting myself into flying blind w/ a hairdresser. (Reality is, the hair is already pretty short, what’s the worst he could do?) Plus it’s hair. Grows fast and is quite expendable.
I’m quite pleased with the result, I feel somewhat hip and young again – nothing too spiky or out there (but give me some time here and I may come home w/ it half shaved, complemented by a couple of groovy tattoos and some more piercings).
Monday, March 30, 2009
We Will Rock You, Italian Food and Barack Obama -- how's that for a mix?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
How did it become the last day of March already?!?
Joe and I had a nice night out Saturday – caught a quick bite and a beer at a pub in the theatre district prior to attending “We Will Rock You,” a theatre production based on Queen’s music. It totally rocked and I would see it again. And again. I was dancing in my seat!
Leading up to the theatre, though, was a bit of a laugh – I’d gotten hooked up w/ the evening’s babysitter via a mom in Ava’s class. She has twins and has had a nanny (Carmen) from the start. Carmen came highly recommended, responded immediately to my request, etc.
But late last week I got a text message from her saying she’d had to leave town for Bolivia. Bolivia?!?
Not to worry, though, she was going to send her mom.
I talked with her mom, who said her daughter Heidi (who will now be a nanny for the mom of twins in Ava’s class) would babysit.
Low and behold, 5:30 rolled around on Friday and no Carmen, no Carmen’s mom, no Heidi. They’d sent another relative, Ivonne, who was standing in front of the wrong house #30. (She called Heidi, who’d called her mom to notify me.) After working through the phone tree, Ivonne did appear at our door and did take very good care of the kids. I shall keep the contact info on the Bolivian network.
(BTW, Julie – mother of twins –said Carmen gave a day’s notice before leaving to marry her boyfriend. No, she’s not 19 – 31.)
A little tighter for time after getting the babysitting thing coordinated (too tight for proper sit down meal, which really was quite fine as we were in the mood for bar food), we took the underground to our destination, which spilled us out in front of the Dominion Theatre. We then canvassed the nearby blocks for a bar that beckoned, landed at a huge place with two bars, tons of tables upstairs and down. Humming with activity, they were on their last food legs. I convinced the bar tender to hook us up w/ 2 chicken pies and mash.
Sated, we headed off to be rocked, only to find 2 people in our seats! (I’d gotten our tickets at a discount outlet earlier in the day. I did ask the people in line if they’d purchased at said outlet in the past; the answer was yes, good experience, great seats/value….).
Our friendly usher disappeared to address the problem, came back to tell us our money would be refunded to our card no later than Monday, leaving us…with no show to watch?!? Unless of course we wanted to pay full face value.
Thankfully we were in front of the box office and the woman selling tix graciously sold us house seats at half price – better discount than I’d gotten at the ticket outlet earlier in the day. And maybe nine rows back in the center of a fabulous theatre.
At intermission we were provided a letter of proof just in case we need it to ensure our double-booked tickets are refunded.
So great service at the Dominion – very professional – and may I say again, a GREAT show – the music, the costuming, the humor, the farfetched, fun story. Must own CD!
On Sunday we tripped off to an Italian cultural festival. It was more like a trade show, with tons of well organized booths set up inside a big convention center. We ate our way through – fabulous roasted pork, homemade noodles (we watched the woman making them), gelato, and then of course sampled olive oils, breads, salamis and prosciuttos, olives, cheeses…food mecca.
Cooking and wine demos were arranged as well. I caught one on everyday Italian wines, which was good, but best were the little booths with people showing where different wines are produced in Italy’s microclimates.
Naturally we walked away with goodies (I told Joe for the prices next time we should just cut to the chase and buy the villa in the Italian countryside; Lord knows there were plenty of people selling real estate). Our “souvenirs”: wine, salami, buffalo mozzarella (incredibly good w/ crusty bread and prosciutto – that’s what we had for dinner).
Today Barack Obama will be at Claire’s school – hope she’ll be able to see him. He’s scheduled for an event at the school late in the day.
And I’m off to the ballet with the ladies this evening, which I’m quite excited about.
How did it become the last day of March already?!?
Joe and I had a nice night out Saturday – caught a quick bite and a beer at a pub in the theatre district prior to attending “We Will Rock You,” a theatre production based on Queen’s music. It totally rocked and I would see it again. And again. I was dancing in my seat!
Leading up to the theatre, though, was a bit of a laugh – I’d gotten hooked up w/ the evening’s babysitter via a mom in Ava’s class. She has twins and has had a nanny (Carmen) from the start. Carmen came highly recommended, responded immediately to my request, etc.
But late last week I got a text message from her saying she’d had to leave town for Bolivia. Bolivia?!?
Not to worry, though, she was going to send her mom.
I talked with her mom, who said her daughter Heidi (who will now be a nanny for the mom of twins in Ava’s class) would babysit.
Low and behold, 5:30 rolled around on Friday and no Carmen, no Carmen’s mom, no Heidi. They’d sent another relative, Ivonne, who was standing in front of the wrong house #30. (She called Heidi, who’d called her mom to notify me.) After working through the phone tree, Ivonne did appear at our door and did take very good care of the kids. I shall keep the contact info on the Bolivian network.
(BTW, Julie – mother of twins –said Carmen gave a day’s notice before leaving to marry her boyfriend. No, she’s not 19 – 31.)
A little tighter for time after getting the babysitting thing coordinated (too tight for proper sit down meal, which really was quite fine as we were in the mood for bar food), we took the underground to our destination, which spilled us out in front of the Dominion Theatre. We then canvassed the nearby blocks for a bar that beckoned, landed at a huge place with two bars, tons of tables upstairs and down. Humming with activity, they were on their last food legs. I convinced the bar tender to hook us up w/ 2 chicken pies and mash.
Sated, we headed off to be rocked, only to find 2 people in our seats! (I’d gotten our tickets at a discount outlet earlier in the day. I did ask the people in line if they’d purchased at said outlet in the past; the answer was yes, good experience, great seats/value….).
Our friendly usher disappeared to address the problem, came back to tell us our money would be refunded to our card no later than Monday, leaving us…with no show to watch?!? Unless of course we wanted to pay full face value.
Thankfully we were in front of the box office and the woman selling tix graciously sold us house seats at half price – better discount than I’d gotten at the ticket outlet earlier in the day. And maybe nine rows back in the center of a fabulous theatre.
At intermission we were provided a letter of proof just in case we need it to ensure our double-booked tickets are refunded.
So great service at the Dominion – very professional – and may I say again, a GREAT show – the music, the costuming, the humor, the farfetched, fun story. Must own CD!
On Sunday we tripped off to an Italian cultural festival. It was more like a trade show, with tons of well organized booths set up inside a big convention center. We ate our way through – fabulous roasted pork, homemade noodles (we watched the woman making them), gelato, and then of course sampled olive oils, breads, salamis and prosciuttos, olives, cheeses…food mecca.
Cooking and wine demos were arranged as well. I caught one on everyday Italian wines, which was good, but best were the little booths with people showing where different wines are produced in Italy’s microclimates.
Naturally we walked away with goodies (I told Joe for the prices next time we should just cut to the chase and buy the villa in the Italian countryside; Lord knows there were plenty of people selling real estate). Our “souvenirs”: wine, salami, buffalo mozzarella (incredibly good w/ crusty bread and prosciutto – that’s what we had for dinner).
Today Barack Obama will be at Claire’s school – hope she’ll be able to see him. He’s scheduled for an event at the school late in the day.
And I’m off to the ballet with the ladies this evening, which I’m quite excited about.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Tightie Whities (got your attendtion, didn't I?)
Friday, March 27
Temperatures are dipping here in Londontown; yesterday alternated between light rain, voracious wind, sunny, blue skies and threatening gray clouds. At one point Ava, who was home with me (ear pain resulting from congestion/ a cold), asked why the electricity kept going off. Nothing as exciting as power loss, just the sun turning it on and off.
Speaking of power, one of those things you don’t think about until it goes out (or your bill is astronomical), it’s been nice to be someplace where power is consistent. We’d gotten used to finding ourselves (temporary) in the dark regularly in India. (That said, we were lucky to be in facilities where generators kicked in, unlike so many areas throughout the country.)
Despite ear pain, it doesn’t look like A has an ear infection at this point; the nurse at Claire’s school checked her out yesterday – the kid prolifically produces ear wax, though, so we left w/ info on dropping a bit of olive oil in them , which helps clear out the extra gunk. Who knew? And who knew that you would come to this blog and read about exciting topics such as ear wax? Parent-share syndrome.
I caught up with the ladies (moms) at Ava’s school last night over dinner. Very nice group, and a mix – working, stay at home, British, transplants, ex-pats. All with children except Ms. Hill, Ava’s teacher, who will get married in July. She’s a delightful woman who is wonderful with kids and seems to love her job. She and her fiancé are off to Africa for a 3 week honeymoon, which per some of the other ladies is the norm, even a bit short. Obviously we Americans work too much or think we need to work too much. No doubt we bring it on ourselves.
I sat next to a woman whose family is from Pakistan. She grew up in London but has extended family there and visits less now, as she has a baby and four-year-old and navigating the environment and its lack of infrastructure, political issues, etc. are a bit of a deterrent (how’s that for understatement).
She talked about how much more progressive India is with regard to said infrastructure. This I found startling, as so much of what we take for granted -- power, as noted, good roads, clean water, etc. -- are not the norm in India. Pakistan, then, must really be a reality check. She also said it’s so “have and have not,” which we saw in India, though the middle class has clearly been growing in recent years as India’s economy has gained ground. Apparently her grandfather died recently and was in what was Pakistan’s “best” hospital…with cats running freely throughout and care she referred to as “a joke.” She and her husband had brought medicine from the U.S., where they lived for a bit, to help him.
Crazy world we live in.
Today I’ll be looking at furniture – it’s great to travel light, but we do need beds in our new home, which we expect to move into in mid-April. And I have a morning coffee on my calendar with the Abercorn staff and parents. I must say I drink plenty of coffee and hot chocolate here. Keeping the economy going in Brazil.
Saturday
I so enjoyed coffee with some of the Abercorn parents and staff yesterday – again, a nice mix of people – an Italian woman married to someone from India, a lady from New Zealand, a British woman who grew up in New York…
The kids and I had a London “moment” after school, after departing John Lewis (nice department store) on Oxford Street, where we’d gone in search of a birthday gift. As we meandered back to the tube, Ava curled up in a ball in the stroller needing a good snack (she claimed she ate all of her fish cake at school, and waxed poetic about how spinach would make her strong like “Papaya” – I believe that would be Pop-eye – but I do wonder how much she actually eats for lunch. Probably too busy/or choosy to dig in properly, since she eats a full meal as soon as she gets home every day).
Anyway, the stroller was also laden w/ backpacks and I had a bag of goodies from the food section at John Lewis, so I was doing my best to weave in and out of foot traffic, keep track of Claire and not get run over -- while balancing all this crap and not breaking anything (I need a pack mule, perhaps?)-- when I heard some very LOUD, very upbeat music blaring from Debonshams (sp? - another department store).
A crowd was gathering around a stage set directly in front of one of the store entrances, where two muscular men were wearing tightie whities and black boots. And that’s all. Jockey. Dancing. What a hoot.
Uninspired to drop in and buy underwear (or anything else for that matter) we continued on to the Bond Street tube station to get Ava home and pump her with cheese and crackers.
Temperatures are dipping here in Londontown; yesterday alternated between light rain, voracious wind, sunny, blue skies and threatening gray clouds. At one point Ava, who was home with me (ear pain resulting from congestion/ a cold), asked why the electricity kept going off. Nothing as exciting as power loss, just the sun turning it on and off.
Speaking of power, one of those things you don’t think about until it goes out (or your bill is astronomical), it’s been nice to be someplace where power is consistent. We’d gotten used to finding ourselves (temporary) in the dark regularly in India. (That said, we were lucky to be in facilities where generators kicked in, unlike so many areas throughout the country.)
Despite ear pain, it doesn’t look like A has an ear infection at this point; the nurse at Claire’s school checked her out yesterday – the kid prolifically produces ear wax, though, so we left w/ info on dropping a bit of olive oil in them , which helps clear out the extra gunk. Who knew? And who knew that you would come to this blog and read about exciting topics such as ear wax? Parent-share syndrome.
I caught up with the ladies (moms) at Ava’s school last night over dinner. Very nice group, and a mix – working, stay at home, British, transplants, ex-pats. All with children except Ms. Hill, Ava’s teacher, who will get married in July. She’s a delightful woman who is wonderful with kids and seems to love her job. She and her fiancé are off to Africa for a 3 week honeymoon, which per some of the other ladies is the norm, even a bit short. Obviously we Americans work too much or think we need to work too much. No doubt we bring it on ourselves.
I sat next to a woman whose family is from Pakistan. She grew up in London but has extended family there and visits less now, as she has a baby and four-year-old and navigating the environment and its lack of infrastructure, political issues, etc. are a bit of a deterrent (how’s that for understatement).
She talked about how much more progressive India is with regard to said infrastructure. This I found startling, as so much of what we take for granted -- power, as noted, good roads, clean water, etc. -- are not the norm in India. Pakistan, then, must really be a reality check. She also said it’s so “have and have not,” which we saw in India, though the middle class has clearly been growing in recent years as India’s economy has gained ground. Apparently her grandfather died recently and was in what was Pakistan’s “best” hospital…with cats running freely throughout and care she referred to as “a joke.” She and her husband had brought medicine from the U.S., where they lived for a bit, to help him.
Crazy world we live in.
Today I’ll be looking at furniture – it’s great to travel light, but we do need beds in our new home, which we expect to move into in mid-April. And I have a morning coffee on my calendar with the Abercorn staff and parents. I must say I drink plenty of coffee and hot chocolate here. Keeping the economy going in Brazil.
Saturday
I so enjoyed coffee with some of the Abercorn parents and staff yesterday – again, a nice mix of people – an Italian woman married to someone from India, a lady from New Zealand, a British woman who grew up in New York…
The kids and I had a London “moment” after school, after departing John Lewis (nice department store) on Oxford Street, where we’d gone in search of a birthday gift. As we meandered back to the tube, Ava curled up in a ball in the stroller needing a good snack (she claimed she ate all of her fish cake at school, and waxed poetic about how spinach would make her strong like “Papaya” – I believe that would be Pop-eye – but I do wonder how much she actually eats for lunch. Probably too busy/or choosy to dig in properly, since she eats a full meal as soon as she gets home every day).
Anyway, the stroller was also laden w/ backpacks and I had a bag of goodies from the food section at John Lewis, so I was doing my best to weave in and out of foot traffic, keep track of Claire and not get run over -- while balancing all this crap and not breaking anything (I need a pack mule, perhaps?)-- when I heard some very LOUD, very upbeat music blaring from Debonshams (sp? - another department store).
A crowd was gathering around a stage set directly in front of one of the store entrances, where two muscular men were wearing tightie whities and black boots. And that’s all. Jockey. Dancing. What a hoot.
Uninspired to drop in and buy underwear (or anything else for that matter) we continued on to the Bond Street tube station to get Ava home and pump her with cheese and crackers.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
We started the week off right, tripping down to the Marylebone Farmers’ Market (foodie delight), after Mass. (BTW we think we’ve found the church for us – nice feel to it, mix of families and otherwise, religious ed for the kids, etc.) And, currently, at least, no major construction projects! Built in the 1960’s, it isn’t your typical old world European church. It’s circular, brick, very modern stained glass windows on one side. Walking distance from where we’ll most likely reside and Claire will be able to make her First Holy Communion the same year she would in the U.S.
Regarding the market, great place to spend a couple of hours – lots of organic and natural meats. (What, pray tell, is unnaturally raised meat? Something comprised in a beaker with 80 different chemicals?)
Anyway, we snagged some lamb steaks (which were fabulous, had them tonight for dinner), hand made sausages (also delicious), two different kinds of cheeses (half of which Ava polished off before we left), some homemade bread and brownies that Claire picked out and some cheap, incredibly fresh veggies. Word to the wise: do not go to the market hungry.
We also had sandwiches while we wandered. The salt marsh lamb people, who raise sheep on salt marsh areas in the English countryside were grilling and selling their meat on ciabatta rolls with fresh greens and various chutneys. DELICIOUS. (Salt marsh diet -- sounds appetizing, doesn't it? -- gives the lamb a different flavor and makes it more tender, we were told.)
This particular market is a subway stop from us, located in a car park near all kinds of great cafes, a cheese shop to die for and renowned butcher shop. Suffice it to say it’s definitely on my radar.
On Monday I zipped down to the Saatchi Gallery, which opened 20 years ago to “provide an innovative forum for contemporary art, presenting work by largely unseen young artists or by international artists whose work has been rarely or never exhibited in the UK.”
My interest in checking it out stemmed from reading about what’s currently on exhibit there -- Unveiled: New Art From the Middle East. The exhibit, with artists from Cairo, Tehran, Beirut, Jordan, Dubai, etc., was laid out throughout the entire three floors of the building, a lovely, modern facility with an airy feel to it.
The works were thought-provoking, some disturbing, many intense and political in nature. A somber experience, at least for me, it was enlightening and well worth seeing. And an ideal solo trip (not kid friendly material, plus let’s face it, my children are museum-ed out. Unless it’s the chocolate museum, which I mentioned the other day as we discussed our upcoming Easter trip to Belgium).
Re: our spring break plans...originally we were thinking Paris but frankly Brussels sounds like a better short getaway, less costly than gay Paris in springtime and fewer sites so I won’t feel like a rat on crack trying to see everything.
As for school, we're settling into a nice routine, I think. Though I’m still puzzling over Ava’s Abercorn days. For example, today I asked about lunch (she is fed at the cafeteria, where a chef whips out lunch for all the kids daily), wherein I was told the cafeteria is closed and "they bussed us to McDonalds." Previously I was told the menu for today included pasta, hot dogs, apples, peas, bread, potatoes, rice, chicken...
And you wouldn't believe what they pack in each day there: gymnastics, ballet, numbers, letters, library, French, art all day long, PE everywhere, etc. Good thing the kid has a schedule so I do have a sense of what happens there! What an imagination.
Today I had great fun with 24 other women from the International Committee at the American School; we got together to watch a demonstration on Mexican food and eat some incredibly great homemade salsa, queso, tortillas, fajitas, guacamole, tamales. Naturally sampled with margaritas.
From there I marched off to the grocery store and have since decided margaritas before shopping might not be the most prudent move. For example, I’ve yet to figure out where the chicken broth is in that store. I’m sure they devote half an aisle to the stuff…canned, boxed, organic, free range, bullion cubes, low salt bullion cubes, organic bullion cubes, broth mix, you get the picture… it’s no doubt the tequila’s fault that I missed them all.
It’s also responsible for all the heavy stuff that found its way into my cart (it’s all fun and games to purchase a bunch of food but then there is the transportation of said food when one is car-less).
I do exaggerate a bit; I got nearly everything I needed with a few extras (who doesn’t like ben and jerry’s ice cream, esp. when it’s on sale). Next thing you know I’ll be writing about taking a bus to Wendy’s for frosties.
We started the week off right, tripping down to the Marylebone Farmers’ Market (foodie delight), after Mass. (BTW we think we’ve found the church for us – nice feel to it, mix of families and otherwise, religious ed for the kids, etc.) And, currently, at least, no major construction projects! Built in the 1960’s, it isn’t your typical old world European church. It’s circular, brick, very modern stained glass windows on one side. Walking distance from where we’ll most likely reside and Claire will be able to make her First Holy Communion the same year she would in the U.S.
Regarding the market, great place to spend a couple of hours – lots of organic and natural meats. (What, pray tell, is unnaturally raised meat? Something comprised in a beaker with 80 different chemicals?)
Anyway, we snagged some lamb steaks (which were fabulous, had them tonight for dinner), hand made sausages (also delicious), two different kinds of cheeses (half of which Ava polished off before we left), some homemade bread and brownies that Claire picked out and some cheap, incredibly fresh veggies. Word to the wise: do not go to the market hungry.
We also had sandwiches while we wandered. The salt marsh lamb people, who raise sheep on salt marsh areas in the English countryside were grilling and selling their meat on ciabatta rolls with fresh greens and various chutneys. DELICIOUS. (Salt marsh diet -- sounds appetizing, doesn't it? -- gives the lamb a different flavor and makes it more tender, we were told.)
This particular market is a subway stop from us, located in a car park near all kinds of great cafes, a cheese shop to die for and renowned butcher shop. Suffice it to say it’s definitely on my radar.
On Monday I zipped down to the Saatchi Gallery, which opened 20 years ago to “provide an innovative forum for contemporary art, presenting work by largely unseen young artists or by international artists whose work has been rarely or never exhibited in the UK.”
My interest in checking it out stemmed from reading about what’s currently on exhibit there -- Unveiled: New Art From the Middle East. The exhibit, with artists from Cairo, Tehran, Beirut, Jordan, Dubai, etc., was laid out throughout the entire three floors of the building, a lovely, modern facility with an airy feel to it.
The works were thought-provoking, some disturbing, many intense and political in nature. A somber experience, at least for me, it was enlightening and well worth seeing. And an ideal solo trip (not kid friendly material, plus let’s face it, my children are museum-ed out. Unless it’s the chocolate museum, which I mentioned the other day as we discussed our upcoming Easter trip to Belgium).
Re: our spring break plans...originally we were thinking Paris but frankly Brussels sounds like a better short getaway, less costly than gay Paris in springtime and fewer sites so I won’t feel like a rat on crack trying to see everything.
As for school, we're settling into a nice routine, I think. Though I’m still puzzling over Ava’s Abercorn days. For example, today I asked about lunch (she is fed at the cafeteria, where a chef whips out lunch for all the kids daily), wherein I was told the cafeteria is closed and "they bussed us to McDonalds." Previously I was told the menu for today included pasta, hot dogs, apples, peas, bread, potatoes, rice, chicken...
And you wouldn't believe what they pack in each day there: gymnastics, ballet, numbers, letters, library, French, art all day long, PE everywhere, etc. Good thing the kid has a schedule so I do have a sense of what happens there! What an imagination.
Today I had great fun with 24 other women from the International Committee at the American School; we got together to watch a demonstration on Mexican food and eat some incredibly great homemade salsa, queso, tortillas, fajitas, guacamole, tamales. Naturally sampled with margaritas.
From there I marched off to the grocery store and have since decided margaritas before shopping might not be the most prudent move. For example, I’ve yet to figure out where the chicken broth is in that store. I’m sure they devote half an aisle to the stuff…canned, boxed, organic, free range, bullion cubes, low salt bullion cubes, organic bullion cubes, broth mix, you get the picture… it’s no doubt the tequila’s fault that I missed them all.
It’s also responsible for all the heavy stuff that found its way into my cart (it’s all fun and games to purchase a bunch of food but then there is the transportation of said food when one is car-less).
I do exaggerate a bit; I got nearly everything I needed with a few extras (who doesn’t like ben and jerry’s ice cream, esp. when it’s on sale). Next thing you know I’ll be writing about taking a bus to Wendy’s for frosties.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
School Days and Kensington Palace
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The rest of our week culminated with Ava feeling a bit under the weather, directly related, no doubt, to the weather changing as spring seems to be in the air (I’m cautiously optimistic). It’s been lovely and sunny all week; this city is gorgeous when the sun shines.
Despite a bit of a cold, Ava didn’t miss much school at Abercorn and seems thrilled to be a self-proclaimed Abercorn girl. I’m uncertain sometimes exactly what she does at school, given every day seems to be filled with ballet, gymnastics, library, games, etc. (She’s a bit of an embellisher.)
Claire also had a great week; Friday her class spent the day at Canons Park, which the school has access to for playing fields, outdoor projects (i.e. gardening), games etc. We ended the week at ASL (Amer. School London) with a PTO sponsored party/fundraiser (auctions and lottery, most important for kids: cupcakes, games and hair accessories in the gym. Claire is sporting a bright green braid).
I checked out Primrose Hill for a nice lunch/book store break – lovely, quaint little neighborhood adjacent to a big hill (Primrose, naturally). A nearby green space where I’ve enjoyed several morning walks, the Hill offers a superb view of London coming alive, the sun rising amid pink streaks over the Eye of London, church spires, cityscape.
I also had the opportunity to spend some time with a parent whose family will leave London this summer and travel for a year, spending a month in India, the rest of the time RV’ing around the U.S. How cool is that?!? They intend to home school their two sons, thus largely the topic of our conversation.
Claire got to see the King’s horses and riders practicing their form and formations for the upcoming Queen’s birthday celebrations. Sometime in June, I believe, though in April a birthday related event for her is also taking place. (Woman after my own heart: may as well celebrate the birthday as frequently as possible.)
Friday evening Joe and I had a date – this time to a restaurant in Maida Vale, also known as Little Venice for its canals. After a bit of wandering and some help from a friendly cab driver, we ended up at the Boathouse, a lovely little French restaurant set on one of the canals. While it was dark and thus harder to appreciate the canal experience, we enjoyed the food and ambience, stopping at a neighborhood bar on the way home to close the evening.
Yesterday the four of us set off for Kensington Palace, home of Lady Di after her split with Prince Charles.
It was a GORGEOUS day, bright, sunny and warm, and I think all of London was enjoying Kensington Gardens, a huge open green space with the Diana, Princess of Wales' Memorial Playground, pond, cafes, paths and park benches, etc. Joggers, families, walkers, picnickers and plenty of dogs, as the kids like to point out.
About the Gardens:
William III bought what was originally part of Hyde Park in 1689 to create Kensington Gardens. He also had Sir Christopher Wren design the redbrick building that is Kensington Palace. Later Queen Anne enlarged the Palace Gardens by 'transferring' 30 acres from Hyde Park.
At Kensington Palace, which is larger than I would have thought from the outside, we took an audio tour of various rooms and wandered through The Last Debutantes exhibit (learned about “coming out” in London’s high society, etiquette do’s and don’ts, events, expectations, dances, posture, clothing, costs, calendar of events and more).
The Diana, fashion and style exhibition was fun to wander through, as was the Royal Ceremonial Dress Collection. (Did you know that the famous ink blue silk velvet – designed by Victor Edelstein and worn by Diana when she danced with John Travolta at the White House in 1985 -- went for $225,000 at a charity auction at Christie’s in New York in 1997? It broke Christie’s previous record of $145,000 for a garment.)
A highlight of our visit was the “tour” we caught with “Queen Victoria,” who was born at Kensington Palace and became Queen at 18. A theatrical young woman dressed in period costume acted the part beautifully, sharing her frustration with her mother’s “controlling” personality and posturing.
Her reign, the longest in British history, lasted 63 years. It was she, in 1898, who initiated restoration of the state apartments at Kensington Palace, which had been “sadly neglected” in the 1800’s. They were, obviously, eventually opened up to the public.
Claire interacted with the “Queen” a bit, visiting about dolls (Claire told her she owns an American girl doll, the queen humorously quipped that since Americans like to import everything, it was probably made in England).
To wrap up our visit the kids did some royal crafts and we watched as the Queen had a “photo” taken – her reign predated photography but a machine was used to produce an image of her, which was then traced with tracing paper and could be used for portraiture development, thus letting the Queen off the hook for all those sitting sessions.
The rest of our week culminated with Ava feeling a bit under the weather, directly related, no doubt, to the weather changing as spring seems to be in the air (I’m cautiously optimistic). It’s been lovely and sunny all week; this city is gorgeous when the sun shines.
Despite a bit of a cold, Ava didn’t miss much school at Abercorn and seems thrilled to be a self-proclaimed Abercorn girl. I’m uncertain sometimes exactly what she does at school, given every day seems to be filled with ballet, gymnastics, library, games, etc. (She’s a bit of an embellisher.)
Claire also had a great week; Friday her class spent the day at Canons Park, which the school has access to for playing fields, outdoor projects (i.e. gardening), games etc. We ended the week at ASL (Amer. School London) with a PTO sponsored party/fundraiser (auctions and lottery, most important for kids: cupcakes, games and hair accessories in the gym. Claire is sporting a bright green braid).
I checked out Primrose Hill for a nice lunch/book store break – lovely, quaint little neighborhood adjacent to a big hill (Primrose, naturally). A nearby green space where I’ve enjoyed several morning walks, the Hill offers a superb view of London coming alive, the sun rising amid pink streaks over the Eye of London, church spires, cityscape.
I also had the opportunity to spend some time with a parent whose family will leave London this summer and travel for a year, spending a month in India, the rest of the time RV’ing around the U.S. How cool is that?!? They intend to home school their two sons, thus largely the topic of our conversation.
Claire got to see the King’s horses and riders practicing their form and formations for the upcoming Queen’s birthday celebrations. Sometime in June, I believe, though in April a birthday related event for her is also taking place. (Woman after my own heart: may as well celebrate the birthday as frequently as possible.)
Friday evening Joe and I had a date – this time to a restaurant in Maida Vale, also known as Little Venice for its canals. After a bit of wandering and some help from a friendly cab driver, we ended up at the Boathouse, a lovely little French restaurant set on one of the canals. While it was dark and thus harder to appreciate the canal experience, we enjoyed the food and ambience, stopping at a neighborhood bar on the way home to close the evening.
Yesterday the four of us set off for Kensington Palace, home of Lady Di after her split with Prince Charles.
It was a GORGEOUS day, bright, sunny and warm, and I think all of London was enjoying Kensington Gardens, a huge open green space with the Diana, Princess of Wales' Memorial Playground, pond, cafes, paths and park benches, etc. Joggers, families, walkers, picnickers and plenty of dogs, as the kids like to point out.
About the Gardens:
William III bought what was originally part of Hyde Park in 1689 to create Kensington Gardens. He also had Sir Christopher Wren design the redbrick building that is Kensington Palace. Later Queen Anne enlarged the Palace Gardens by 'transferring' 30 acres from Hyde Park.
At Kensington Palace, which is larger than I would have thought from the outside, we took an audio tour of various rooms and wandered through The Last Debutantes exhibit (learned about “coming out” in London’s high society, etiquette do’s and don’ts, events, expectations, dances, posture, clothing, costs, calendar of events and more).
The Diana, fashion and style exhibition was fun to wander through, as was the Royal Ceremonial Dress Collection. (Did you know that the famous ink blue silk velvet – designed by Victor Edelstein and worn by Diana when she danced with John Travolta at the White House in 1985 -- went for $225,000 at a charity auction at Christie’s in New York in 1997? It broke Christie’s previous record of $145,000 for a garment.)
A highlight of our visit was the “tour” we caught with “Queen Victoria,” who was born at Kensington Palace and became Queen at 18. A theatrical young woman dressed in period costume acted the part beautifully, sharing her frustration with her mother’s “controlling” personality and posturing.
Her reign, the longest in British history, lasted 63 years. It was she, in 1898, who initiated restoration of the state apartments at Kensington Palace, which had been “sadly neglected” in the 1800’s. They were, obviously, eventually opened up to the public.
Claire interacted with the “Queen” a bit, visiting about dolls (Claire told her she owns an American girl doll, the queen humorously quipped that since Americans like to import everything, it was probably made in England).
To wrap up our visit the kids did some royal crafts and we watched as the Queen had a “photo” taken – her reign predated photography but a machine was used to produce an image of her, which was then traced with tracing paper and could be used for portraiture development, thus letting the Queen off the hook for all those sitting sessions.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Ava Starts School
Day three at Abercorn and Ava's settled in like she owns the place (exception being swim class -- apparently there she lasted 10 minutes, dressed in her cheery red bathing suit and black bathing cap). The latter kills me; picture a troop of four-year-olds in their little trunks and one-piecers with speedo swim caps. Olympics here we come (or they can join the little old ladies at the Y doing their water aerobics, capped). (I can say this since I'm sure I'll segue to pool exercise at some point in my life. As one fellow spinner once stated: first I was a runner, now I'm a biker, in another 10 years I'll be a swimmer...)
Today Ava wore her kilt, red cardigan, blazer, red tights and black shoes. Too cute. (On P.E. days she wears her red sweat suit.)
Claire's 2nd week of school is going great too -- she's started some after school activities (puppet making and jewelry). We'll be entertained and she'll be well accessorized.
As for me, I have delighted in being alone (no, not lonely, alone. It's fabulous). Actually, yesterday I had coffee with two lovely ladies, parents of kids in Claire's class, at a little French cafe near the school.
Afterward I tromped off to the Victoria and Albert Museum for the Magnificence of the Tsars exhibit, which leaves London at the end of March.
The place is HUGE (not the tsars, the museum). The clothing in the exhibit did look like it would fit a skinny 14-year-old kid. Some of them were actually worn by a royal who died at 14 on his wedding day. Scarlet Fever or some such disease.
The jist of the exhibit is to "illustrate Russia’s relationship with her past and with Europe through two centuries of men’s court dress." The collection includes the dress and regalia worn by the emperors and the Russian court from the 1720s to 1917. Particularly auspicious was the coronation dress of the emperor. Some of these pieces were incredibly opulent, weighing 15+ kilos (embedded with jewels, sewn with gold thread, incredibly rich and luxurious fabrics).
Not a big exhibit, but very well staged and very interesting. I enjoyed perusing it, then had a delicious open-faced torte at the museum cafe (salami and brie on a buttery, flaky crust...). I then wandered through the photography exhibit before returning to St. John's Wood for the more mundane grocery shopping.
I must say I really do enjoy perusing food, so the grocery shopping is not an ominous task, and thanks to my wonderful River Run lady friends, my brown and white cart serves me well for these grocery errands.
Other London moments so far this week:
Ava and I came around the corner yesterday to find 50+ of the King's Troop Royal Horse Artillery out for a walk. Some were led, harnessed next to a horse and rider in pairs pulling carriages, others were ridden separately. In front and in back were pairs of men managing traffic as the group pranced through the streets of St. John's Wood in crisp, neat order. All the horses were brown or black -- lovely animals and a lovely site at the start of a bright, sunny day.
I had such an English lunch the other day: a warm beef and potato pasty. The only thing missing was the tea or ale, I suppose.
I'm fascinated by the dryer here (small things in life, right?). Both it and the washer seem to take FOREVER to run a cycle (as long as they work I really don't care, it's just fascinating that it takes as long as it does. Clothes come out quite clean, so all that agitation is doing the right thing, I guess.). The dryer has a container that must be emptied regularly because it fills up with water from the clothes. Obviously the machine sucks the water from the wet clothing and puts it in this tank. Good thing; line drying here would take a long time.
As for what's coming up, we're narrowing in on houses, I've signed up for an adult class (Ancient Britian) so I too can go to school, the moms at Abercorn have put me on the ladies night out list for next Thursday and I've found some babysitting resources for London style dates with my husband.
So far so good! Oh and we've got paperwork in the system for a bank account (I'm cautiously optimistic that the process won't be as painful as ex-pat banking in India)...
Now if only this incredibly beautiful, sunny, warm weather would continue for the next year or so I'd be in heaven.
Today Ava wore her kilt, red cardigan, blazer, red tights and black shoes. Too cute. (On P.E. days she wears her red sweat suit.)
Claire's 2nd week of school is going great too -- she's started some after school activities (puppet making and jewelry). We'll be entertained and she'll be well accessorized.
As for me, I have delighted in being alone (no, not lonely, alone. It's fabulous). Actually, yesterday I had coffee with two lovely ladies, parents of kids in Claire's class, at a little French cafe near the school.
Afterward I tromped off to the Victoria and Albert Museum for the Magnificence of the Tsars exhibit, which leaves London at the end of March.
The place is HUGE (not the tsars, the museum). The clothing in the exhibit did look like it would fit a skinny 14-year-old kid. Some of them were actually worn by a royal who died at 14 on his wedding day. Scarlet Fever or some such disease.
The jist of the exhibit is to "illustrate Russia’s relationship with her past and with Europe through two centuries of men’s court dress." The collection includes the dress and regalia worn by the emperors and the Russian court from the 1720s to 1917. Particularly auspicious was the coronation dress of the emperor. Some of these pieces were incredibly opulent, weighing 15+ kilos (embedded with jewels, sewn with gold thread, incredibly rich and luxurious fabrics).
Not a big exhibit, but very well staged and very interesting. I enjoyed perusing it, then had a delicious open-faced torte at the museum cafe (salami and brie on a buttery, flaky crust...). I then wandered through the photography exhibit before returning to St. John's Wood for the more mundane grocery shopping.
I must say I really do enjoy perusing food, so the grocery shopping is not an ominous task, and thanks to my wonderful River Run lady friends, my brown and white cart serves me well for these grocery errands.
Other London moments so far this week:
Ava and I came around the corner yesterday to find 50+ of the King's Troop Royal Horse Artillery out for a walk. Some were led, harnessed next to a horse and rider in pairs pulling carriages, others were ridden separately. In front and in back were pairs of men managing traffic as the group pranced through the streets of St. John's Wood in crisp, neat order. All the horses were brown or black -- lovely animals and a lovely site at the start of a bright, sunny day.
I had such an English lunch the other day: a warm beef and potato pasty. The only thing missing was the tea or ale, I suppose.
I'm fascinated by the dryer here (small things in life, right?). Both it and the washer seem to take FOREVER to run a cycle (as long as they work I really don't care, it's just fascinating that it takes as long as it does. Clothes come out quite clean, so all that agitation is doing the right thing, I guess.). The dryer has a container that must be emptied regularly because it fills up with water from the clothes. Obviously the machine sucks the water from the wet clothing and puts it in this tank. Good thing; line drying here would take a long time.
As for what's coming up, we're narrowing in on houses, I've signed up for an adult class (Ancient Britian) so I too can go to school, the moms at Abercorn have put me on the ladies night out list for next Thursday and I've found some babysitting resources for London style dates with my husband.
So far so good! Oh and we've got paperwork in the system for a bank account (I'm cautiously optimistic that the process won't be as painful as ex-pat banking in India)...
Now if only this incredibly beautiful, sunny, warm weather would continue for the next year or so I'd be in heaven.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
St. Patrick's Day festival
Our weekend was spent celebrating: first Ava's birthday (we partied twice, once on Thursday -- THE birthday, then on Saturday, when all four of us could burst into birthday song all day long). Yesterday we celebrated St. Patrick's Day with thousands of people at Trafalgar Square. It was great fun with parade, plenty of beer, street food and Irish bands.
The master of ceremonies -- a quirky Irishman who had plenty of one liners in his repertoire -- noted that God really is Irish as the weather was spectacular yesterday. (I do mean spectacular, sunny and warm; even I shed a layer or two.)
We also hit Mass at a different church as we're shopping around for the right one (yes, staying w/ the Catholic thing, just making sure we choose the one that best fits).
Yesterday's most convenient Mass time brought with it Latin verses. Not a bad once in a while experience, but not really up the 7 and 4 year old alley. Pretty church, built in the 1800's and currently under restoration. (Every one of the parishes we've landed in the last few years have been under massive fund raising efforts for serious construction; this time around we'll try to find one that's just painting or sprucing up the pews.)
Over the weekend we learned that 110 horses live down the street from us. One block away is the King's Troop Royal Horse Artillery, a gated compound with machine gun carrying guard out front. The horses are used for ceremonial state occasions, according to yesterday's guard, a friendly young woman who looked about 20. A small person weilding a very big gun, she gave us the download on the place. Apparently the horses and riders stroll out daily around 7 a.m., returning at half past eight. We'll have to be on the lookout.
Imagine the value of those animals...
This week our big 4-year-old starts school, Claire is off and running with week 2 at ASL, Joe will be immersed in BOA and I will do my best to marvel in some freedom to explore London a bit on my own! (Ava's advice as to what I should do with my free time: grocery shop. Claire's advice: be the mystery reader at school. No more advice needed, thankyouverymuch.)
The master of ceremonies -- a quirky Irishman who had plenty of one liners in his repertoire -- noted that God really is Irish as the weather was spectacular yesterday. (I do mean spectacular, sunny and warm; even I shed a layer or two.)
We also hit Mass at a different church as we're shopping around for the right one (yes, staying w/ the Catholic thing, just making sure we choose the one that best fits).
Yesterday's most convenient Mass time brought with it Latin verses. Not a bad once in a while experience, but not really up the 7 and 4 year old alley. Pretty church, built in the 1800's and currently under restoration. (Every one of the parishes we've landed in the last few years have been under massive fund raising efforts for serious construction; this time around we'll try to find one that's just painting or sprucing up the pews.)
Over the weekend we learned that 110 horses live down the street from us. One block away is the King's Troop Royal Horse Artillery, a gated compound with machine gun carrying guard out front. The horses are used for ceremonial state occasions, according to yesterday's guard, a friendly young woman who looked about 20. A small person weilding a very big gun, she gave us the download on the place. Apparently the horses and riders stroll out daily around 7 a.m., returning at half past eight. We'll have to be on the lookout.
Imagine the value of those animals...
This week our big 4-year-old starts school, Claire is off and running with week 2 at ASL, Joe will be immersed in BOA and I will do my best to marvel in some freedom to explore London a bit on my own! (Ava's advice as to what I should do with my free time: grocery shop. Claire's advice: be the mystery reader at school. No more advice needed, thankyouverymuch.)
Saturday, March 14, 2009
House hunting, rabbit fur and pub grub
Our week flew, quite successfully, too! Claire had a great first five days at ASL and is hoping to add an after school activity to her schedule. Ava and I found the right school for her; she will start Monday as a pre-reception student at a lovely little school housed in an old mansion.
The building has a ton of character but more importantly is full of children's art, fun decor (a huge stuffed bear, stuffed centipede, stuffed snake, etc.) and warm, friendly people. Ava had a ball touring it, asking tons of questions and having a lovely conversation with our tour guide. She's VERY excited to go to school and will be there all day five days a week. They break in two weeks and resume late April, getting out in July. Downside is schedule doesn't match Claire's, but one can't hope for perfection in moving and settling into the right school environments (this one is within minutes of Claire's school, drop off and pick up schedules jive and both places seem to fit w/ the kids' personalities). So I'm a happy camper!
Ava and I then spent some time getting parts and pieces of a uniform pulled together to get her started. Three days a week she'll wear a bright red track suit, she has a red swim suit for Tuesday swim class, and other days she'll wear a smart gray blazer, red cardigan and checked kilt. Quite cute and will no doubt curb all early morning dress-related arguments!
For some basics - white turtlenecks, socks, tights - we shopped on High Street in St. John's Wood yesterday. It's a lovely street lined with high end shops and cafes...and a Gap Kids. So we scored a couple of items, continued seeking others but were waylaid by a going-out-of-business sale at a lovely boutique.
One has a responsibility to check out such sales, naturally...I've been in search of a discount winter coat (can you tell I've been cold since stepping off the plane).
Unfortunately everything I've seen -- live or on line -- either would fit a very petite woman or someone considerably larger. Lovely prices, though.
So I asked the sales lady at this boutique if they had any coats and low and behold, she pulled out 2 rabbit fur garments. Absolutely beautiful, soft, warm, luscious. And so not on my radar.
BUT one of them fit and enveloped me, convincing me that it really needed to be mine.
Well actually the price really helped convince me -- DIRT CHEAP (1/5 of original price). So yes, hello PETA I am a target. I told Joe to steer clear of me if he sees someone shaking a can of spray paint. (Disclaimer here: I'm not generally the fur type but rabbits do proliferate quickly and heavily, so I guess a few sacrificed in the name of luxurious warmth doesn't really stick in my conscience. Bear in mind I am a ranch girl; I believe in supporting the rabbit farmer.)
After that little shopping spontaneity we continued on our quest for basic black shoes for little A, swung back over to meet a delightful mom/ballet teacher/uniform queen at Abercorn (Ava's school)for other parts and pieces to tide her over until I make it to the uniform store.
Ava has been modeling the summer hat, a wide brimmed red one -- so sweet and cute.
She's pleased as punch to tell everyone she's four and we'll celebrate all day today (minor celebration on her birthday as we couldn't all be together all day). We'll also look at 4 properties, which rose to the top in my house hunting adventures earlier this week. We'll then see where we net out with the home search. We could do the urban flat experience -- loved one near the school -- or the more traditional house route. I did view a few of the latter that "fit" our family size and needs a bit better (some we saw last week were huge -- what's the point when our focus is living like we're leaving?!?).
Last night Joe and I had a date; we went to a traditional London pub not too far away, great old building with colorful interior, humming with a variety of people -- men in pony tails sporting heavy tattoos and earrings, people dressed in business clothes, others in heavy sweaters with cool, crisp 'do's (love love love the styling hair here -- breath of fresh air from all that long black hair in India -- which is nice but let's face it, variety is a good thing). (While there, I was asked several times -- in puzzlement -- if all American women had short hair. And if all American women traveled without their husbands.)
Anyway, we enjoyed a glass of wine in the pub (I know I know beer really is the right drink for this environment but red wine sounded warm -- I'm a bit hung up on the warmth thing, aren't I?), then moved upstairs to the dining room, less colorful but elegant and comfortable, for dinner. I had chicken pot pie (so English, don't you think?) and Joe had haddock/salmon cakes. Cooked carrots on the side. Good, warm and inexpensive (I probably won't say that terribly often here).
The building has a ton of character but more importantly is full of children's art, fun decor (a huge stuffed bear, stuffed centipede, stuffed snake, etc.) and warm, friendly people. Ava had a ball touring it, asking tons of questions and having a lovely conversation with our tour guide. She's VERY excited to go to school and will be there all day five days a week. They break in two weeks and resume late April, getting out in July. Downside is schedule doesn't match Claire's, but one can't hope for perfection in moving and settling into the right school environments (this one is within minutes of Claire's school, drop off and pick up schedules jive and both places seem to fit w/ the kids' personalities). So I'm a happy camper!
Ava and I then spent some time getting parts and pieces of a uniform pulled together to get her started. Three days a week she'll wear a bright red track suit, she has a red swim suit for Tuesday swim class, and other days she'll wear a smart gray blazer, red cardigan and checked kilt. Quite cute and will no doubt curb all early morning dress-related arguments!
For some basics - white turtlenecks, socks, tights - we shopped on High Street in St. John's Wood yesterday. It's a lovely street lined with high end shops and cafes...and a Gap Kids. So we scored a couple of items, continued seeking others but were waylaid by a going-out-of-business sale at a lovely boutique.
One has a responsibility to check out such sales, naturally...I've been in search of a discount winter coat (can you tell I've been cold since stepping off the plane).
Unfortunately everything I've seen -- live or on line -- either would fit a very petite woman or someone considerably larger. Lovely prices, though.
So I asked the sales lady at this boutique if they had any coats and low and behold, she pulled out 2 rabbit fur garments. Absolutely beautiful, soft, warm, luscious. And so not on my radar.
BUT one of them fit and enveloped me, convincing me that it really needed to be mine.
Well actually the price really helped convince me -- DIRT CHEAP (1/5 of original price). So yes, hello PETA I am a target. I told Joe to steer clear of me if he sees someone shaking a can of spray paint. (Disclaimer here: I'm not generally the fur type but rabbits do proliferate quickly and heavily, so I guess a few sacrificed in the name of luxurious warmth doesn't really stick in my conscience. Bear in mind I am a ranch girl; I believe in supporting the rabbit farmer.)
After that little shopping spontaneity we continued on our quest for basic black shoes for little A, swung back over to meet a delightful mom/ballet teacher/uniform queen at Abercorn (Ava's school)for other parts and pieces to tide her over until I make it to the uniform store.
Ava has been modeling the summer hat, a wide brimmed red one -- so sweet and cute.
She's pleased as punch to tell everyone she's four and we'll celebrate all day today (minor celebration on her birthday as we couldn't all be together all day). We'll also look at 4 properties, which rose to the top in my house hunting adventures earlier this week. We'll then see where we net out with the home search. We could do the urban flat experience -- loved one near the school -- or the more traditional house route. I did view a few of the latter that "fit" our family size and needs a bit better (some we saw last week were huge -- what's the point when our focus is living like we're leaving?!?).
Last night Joe and I had a date; we went to a traditional London pub not too far away, great old building with colorful interior, humming with a variety of people -- men in pony tails sporting heavy tattoos and earrings, people dressed in business clothes, others in heavy sweaters with cool, crisp 'do's (love love love the styling hair here -- breath of fresh air from all that long black hair in India -- which is nice but let's face it, variety is a good thing). (While there, I was asked several times -- in puzzlement -- if all American women had short hair. And if all American women traveled without their husbands.)
Anyway, we enjoyed a glass of wine in the pub (I know I know beer really is the right drink for this environment but red wine sounded warm -- I'm a bit hung up on the warmth thing, aren't I?), then moved upstairs to the dining room, less colorful but elegant and comfortable, for dinner. I had chicken pot pie (so English, don't you think?) and Joe had haddock/salmon cakes. Cooked carrots on the side. Good, warm and inexpensive (I probably won't say that terribly often here).
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Claire Starts School
Claire's first two days of school have been great; she's at the American School London, which is comprised mainly (surprise surprise) of Americans -- about 2/3.
Ava and I got the grand tour of the school on Monday; Ava liked the fish, rabbit and legos. I'm pleased with the resources offered, Ms. Jo (Claire's teacher) seems top notch and most important, Claire is thrilled with the place. She likes the kids and yesterday, as I was visiting with the room parents, I looked around to introduce her -- she'd vanished to the playground -- good sign, I think.
Now what to do with Ava...we'll meet with schools later this week that may have space for her.
She and I got a tour of the area yesterday -- we're within walking distance of some very cool neighborhoods -- Primrose and Hamstead, the Camden market, Oxford Street...now I just need a stroller and we'll be set! Quite a contrast from India -- the only stroller I ever saw there was the one our Australian friends wheeled around the hotel for their baby (most Indians simply carry their babies; sidewalks or lack thereof make buggies hard to navigate -- that and sheer numbers of people/chaos).
Here we'll definitely get in the habit of carrying umbrellas, it rained on and off yesterday with breaks of lovely sunshine and warmth.
Yesterday's tour took us to Waitrose, another grocery store (I love grocery stores). Very nice meat and produce. Frankly I have a tough time getting past the cheese counter...must be cheese withdrawal. We also stopped at a culinary store as I'm in danger of losing a digit if I keep attempting to use the crappy knives furnished by our temp housing people.
Each day I've been picking up the newspaper; the economy is top billing here, as I'm sure is the same at home. They're printing money here in hopes of spurring things. (The economy was also a hot topic in India's papers, too, along with honor killings, anti-Valentine's Day protests, anti-"pub culture" and other moral "policing." Nice to get away from that kind of news.)
We are now library card holders; the kids are in heaven (as am I -- I'm all for building a home library but buying a book everytime we hit the Gurgaon mall was a bit much).
Cheers -- must get moving as our schedule has markedly change from vacation mode: Claire must be at school at 7:50 (in India they hadn't even rolled out until 8:30 or 9)...
Ava and I got the grand tour of the school on Monday; Ava liked the fish, rabbit and legos. I'm pleased with the resources offered, Ms. Jo (Claire's teacher) seems top notch and most important, Claire is thrilled with the place. She likes the kids and yesterday, as I was visiting with the room parents, I looked around to introduce her -- she'd vanished to the playground -- good sign, I think.
Now what to do with Ava...we'll meet with schools later this week that may have space for her.
She and I got a tour of the area yesterday -- we're within walking distance of some very cool neighborhoods -- Primrose and Hamstead, the Camden market, Oxford Street...now I just need a stroller and we'll be set! Quite a contrast from India -- the only stroller I ever saw there was the one our Australian friends wheeled around the hotel for their baby (most Indians simply carry their babies; sidewalks or lack thereof make buggies hard to navigate -- that and sheer numbers of people/chaos).
Here we'll definitely get in the habit of carrying umbrellas, it rained on and off yesterday with breaks of lovely sunshine and warmth.
Yesterday's tour took us to Waitrose, another grocery store (I love grocery stores). Very nice meat and produce. Frankly I have a tough time getting past the cheese counter...must be cheese withdrawal. We also stopped at a culinary store as I'm in danger of losing a digit if I keep attempting to use the crappy knives furnished by our temp housing people.
Each day I've been picking up the newspaper; the economy is top billing here, as I'm sure is the same at home. They're printing money here in hopes of spurring things. (The economy was also a hot topic in India's papers, too, along with honor killings, anti-Valentine's Day protests, anti-"pub culture" and other moral "policing." Nice to get away from that kind of news.)
We are now library card holders; the kids are in heaven (as am I -- I'm all for building a home library but buying a book everytime we hit the Gurgaon mall was a bit much).
Cheers -- must get moving as our schedule has markedly change from vacation mode: Claire must be at school at 7:50 (in India they hadn't even rolled out until 8:30 or 9)...
Sunday, March 8, 2009
House hunting and checking out London
This weekend found us house hunting in St. John's Wood, where we'd like to continue living -- nice area, nice home options. We were whisked in and out of several good options so will narrow things down as we land a school spot for Ava.
Speaking of, Ava scoffed at any house that didn't have beds. After all, how can we live there if her and Claire's room don't have beds?
Sat. morning we ran errands -- such normal living after 4 months of hotel staff taking care of us. Drycleaning, found a great butcher (I actually ran across him early last week when I was out walking, before shops opened -- he was unloading lamb quarters, cuts the meat on site. Based on that I decided his shop was worth a try.) Thus we purchased lamb steaks (excellent, I might add), some red wine and a few fruits and veggies, hit the post, etc.
Yesterday we caught a double decker bus; our tube was down so we took a bus to a different tube, ended up in Trafalgar Square and allowed the "Original" double decker bus to show us around. Much better than walking in chilly weather. (Though I really don't think Londoners found it chilly -- everyone was out and about, Hyde Park was teeming with horseback riders, joggers, walkers, tourists, you name it.)
We got a great overview of the city and all the sites we'll want to explore or re-explore -- nice walk down memory lane, too, as Joe and I were here for a week 12 years ago, falling in love.
At St. Paul's Cathedral we dissed the bus, tracked down some good Italian food and made our way back to St. John's Wood amidst sprinkles (Claire, who'd heard the weather report for the day, chastised me for not packing the umbrellas...call me an optimist -- it was sunny when we left).
Speaking of, Ava scoffed at any house that didn't have beds. After all, how can we live there if her and Claire's room don't have beds?
Sat. morning we ran errands -- such normal living after 4 months of hotel staff taking care of us. Drycleaning, found a great butcher (I actually ran across him early last week when I was out walking, before shops opened -- he was unloading lamb quarters, cuts the meat on site. Based on that I decided his shop was worth a try.) Thus we purchased lamb steaks (excellent, I might add), some red wine and a few fruits and veggies, hit the post, etc.
Yesterday we caught a double decker bus; our tube was down so we took a bus to a different tube, ended up in Trafalgar Square and allowed the "Original" double decker bus to show us around. Much better than walking in chilly weather. (Though I really don't think Londoners found it chilly -- everyone was out and about, Hyde Park was teeming with horseback riders, joggers, walkers, tourists, you name it.)
We got a great overview of the city and all the sites we'll want to explore or re-explore -- nice walk down memory lane, too, as Joe and I were here for a week 12 years ago, falling in love.
At St. Paul's Cathedral we dissed the bus, tracked down some good Italian food and made our way back to St. John's Wood amidst sprinkles (Claire, who'd heard the weather report for the day, chastised me for not packing the umbrellas...call me an optimist -- it was sunny when we left).
Friday, March 6, 2009
Toy Museum
After a lazy morning yesterday, we headed out to find London's toy museum per Claire's request, as it's her last free day before returning to a school schedule.
What a lovely sunny (but chilly) day, too! We navigated the tube without a hitch; kids like to ride it, Ava beelines it to any open seat, settling in with her black, sparkled boots, pink leggings, pink dress, purple coat. Colorful in a sea of dark colors.
It's fun to see a wide array of hairstyles again; India's women virtually all have long hair. It's also fun to see a wide array of clothing styles. At McDonald's on Thursday I noticed how beautifully dressed in an eclectic way some lovely women near us were...then I glanced out the window to find the London School of Fashion across the street. Maybe I'll enroll and get a new wardrobe. (Testing to see if my husband is reading this.)
Back to toys...we were at a loss to find the little street upon which the toy museum rests and asked someone on the street. They were from France but pulled out a map and oriented us and voila, a few minutes later we were wandering through a narrow old house with five floors of old toys, some dating back to the 1800's. Coolest, in our opinion, were the doll houses, many of them furnished down to the tiniest ladles and irons.
Some of the toys had black and white photos of little boys and girls who'd owned them, others had tags telling about the kids who made them or knitted doll dresses, etc. What a wonderful way to share information from the past.
Naturally we hit the toy shop, Ava's sole motivation for climbing all those stairs. We came home with marbles and a toy farm set.
On the way home we stopped for pizza making items and a bottle of wine...have discovered olives wrapped in anchovies. I'm in heaven. And a great cheese selection. (India doesn't do cheese the way Europeans do.)
What a lovely sunny (but chilly) day, too! We navigated the tube without a hitch; kids like to ride it, Ava beelines it to any open seat, settling in with her black, sparkled boots, pink leggings, pink dress, purple coat. Colorful in a sea of dark colors.
It's fun to see a wide array of hairstyles again; India's women virtually all have long hair. It's also fun to see a wide array of clothing styles. At McDonald's on Thursday I noticed how beautifully dressed in an eclectic way some lovely women near us were...then I glanced out the window to find the London School of Fashion across the street. Maybe I'll enroll and get a new wardrobe. (Testing to see if my husband is reading this.)
Back to toys...we were at a loss to find the little street upon which the toy museum rests and asked someone on the street. They were from France but pulled out a map and oriented us and voila, a few minutes later we were wandering through a narrow old house with five floors of old toys, some dating back to the 1800's. Coolest, in our opinion, were the doll houses, many of them furnished down to the tiniest ladles and irons.
Some of the toys had black and white photos of little boys and girls who'd owned them, others had tags telling about the kids who made them or knitted doll dresses, etc. What a wonderful way to share information from the past.
Naturally we hit the toy shop, Ava's sole motivation for climbing all those stairs. We came home with marbles and a toy farm set.
On the way home we stopped for pizza making items and a bottle of wine...have discovered olives wrapped in anchovies. I'm in heaven. And a great cheese selection. (India doesn't do cheese the way Europeans do.)
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Day 2 in London!
So far we're liking this St. Johns Woods area -- it's quaint, easy walking distance to everything we need: post, a wide array of cafes/restaurants/coffee shops, tube stops, even a Mosque (not sure if I'll need one of those anytime soon but it does make for a diverse living area), the zoo, shops, etc.
This morning we relaxed around the house; haven't had one to lay around for a while so it was quite nice. Then took off for our first ride on the underground, as Claire and Harry Potter refer to it. I'm now the owner of an oyster card, which allows me to travel on the tube/trams/buses around the city by just touching a sensor with the card. I can load more money onto it at Oyster card outlets or online. Kids under 11 travel free -- yea! (I think freebies will be rare here; everything is more expensive than home).
Someone from Belgium told me they'd met friends from Switzerland and somewhere else for a weekend here. The non-Swiss couples opted to eat at McDonald's their last night to save money while the Swiss opted for fine dining since it was cheaper than in Switzerland...it's all relative, I guess.
Once back up on ground, we headed off in search of lunch boxes and a backpack for Ava, who is in her High School Musical craze. Busy Oxford street was great fun, had a busy downtown Chicago feel to it with so many people out and about. And another sunny day, pleasantly warm. We scored on the items we were after, had chocolate soup at a cafe in one of the department stores (it was gooey, rich and a very large portion -- just the way chocolate was meant).
I'm still amazed at how orderly and clean everything is. Poor old Gurgaon trees even looked dusty.
The power has yet to go off here -- small thing but nice. I'd gotten used to it dropping and coming back on a minute later, powering off the TV, CD player etc.
It's been so nice to be able to walk here there and everywhere, though must get some wheels for Ava. Her little legs get worn out.
This morning we relaxed around the house; haven't had one to lay around for a while so it was quite nice. Then took off for our first ride on the underground, as Claire and Harry Potter refer to it. I'm now the owner of an oyster card, which allows me to travel on the tube/trams/buses around the city by just touching a sensor with the card. I can load more money onto it at Oyster card outlets or online. Kids under 11 travel free -- yea! (I think freebies will be rare here; everything is more expensive than home).
Someone from Belgium told me they'd met friends from Switzerland and somewhere else for a weekend here. The non-Swiss couples opted to eat at McDonald's their last night to save money while the Swiss opted for fine dining since it was cheaper than in Switzerland...it's all relative, I guess.
Once back up on ground, we headed off in search of lunch boxes and a backpack for Ava, who is in her High School Musical craze. Busy Oxford street was great fun, had a busy downtown Chicago feel to it with so many people out and about. And another sunny day, pleasantly warm. We scored on the items we were after, had chocolate soup at a cafe in one of the department stores (it was gooey, rich and a very large portion -- just the way chocolate was meant).
I'm still amazed at how orderly and clean everything is. Poor old Gurgaon trees even looked dusty.
The power has yet to go off here -- small thing but nice. I'd gotten used to it dropping and coming back on a minute later, powering off the TV, CD player etc.
It's been so nice to be able to walk here there and everywhere, though must get some wheels for Ava. Her little legs get worn out.
We have arrived in Londontown!
After many good-byes and well wishes Tuesday morning, Ram took us on our final drive in India – to Indira Ghandi airport. We had a long, uneventful flight to London, a quick trip through customs, snapped up our luggage and were met by a driver upon exiting. Therein we spent way too much time in traffic, and of course we were greeted with rain.
In fact, it rained on and off all night, and since I was up for a large part of the night, I did enjoy the sound. Jet lag and stomach cramps got me – ironically, after evading any kind of sickness during our time in India, I spent my last two days suffering from food borne illness or a virus. Whatever it was, my poor tummy was not a happy camper.
Our first real day in London donned with sunshine! We wandered out late morning to walk by the American School, where Claire will start on Monday. Then down to the shopping area near us (our neighborhood for the time being is St. John’s Wood), where we found a local library and spent an hour reading.
Then on to lunch at Harry’s delicatessen. Skipped the kidney and liver, borscht, etc. – all three of us had very good chicken noodle soup. I had to laugh; the sun brought everyone out of doors. People were sitting outside having coffee, lunch, a glass of beer, etc. I on the other hand was cold and asked for a table at the back, well away from the door, then ordered hot chocolate and soup. Must lose the wimpiness with regard to the weather. Either that or bone up on winter underwear.
In fact, it rained on and off all night, and since I was up for a large part of the night, I did enjoy the sound. Jet lag and stomach cramps got me – ironically, after evading any kind of sickness during our time in India, I spent my last two days suffering from food borne illness or a virus. Whatever it was, my poor tummy was not a happy camper.
Our first real day in London donned with sunshine! We wandered out late morning to walk by the American School, where Claire will start on Monday. Then down to the shopping area near us (our neighborhood for the time being is St. John’s Wood), where we found a local library and spent an hour reading.
Then on to lunch at Harry’s delicatessen. Skipped the kidney and liver, borscht, etc. – all three of us had very good chicken noodle soup. I had to laugh; the sun brought everyone out of doors. People were sitting outside having coffee, lunch, a glass of beer, etc. I on the other hand was cold and asked for a table at the back, well away from the door, then ordered hot chocolate and soup. Must lose the wimpiness with regard to the weather. Either that or bone up on winter underwear.
Our last days in Gurgaon
Friday morning we spent supervising packing of our air shipment (crew of 6 to pack up our hotel, two men just stood around and watched). Joe was there for most of the experience as he was packing to catch an early afternoon flight to London.
Despite his presence – and after I’d downloaded all forms sent our way to approve shipment…and filled them out with Joe’s signature, the idiot in charge pulled out yet another form after Joe’d left for the airport. You should have seen his face when I told him I would sign since Joe was at the airport (wherein idiot asked if he could come back to sign it).
Sure enough, Joe was asked for his signature from London so the shipment could leave India. I will so not miss the processes here – making everything more complicated than it needs to be.
Kids and I picked up our passports with our new UK visas Friday evening; that was a 6 hour experience. Two hours to get there, 15 minutes to pick them up, 1 ½ hours to have dinner at Oh! Calcutta (very good, I might add), 2 ¼ hours to get back home. (No, it’s not that far; rush hour traffic starts around 6, lasts ‘til 10:30).
Saturday we hit a market in Delhi for a last hurrah, and Sunday we spent the afternoon at Miss Margie’s. She taught me how to make chicken masala, which was lots of fun and tasted incredibly good. Base for all masalas is the same: ginger, onion, garlic, tomatoes sautéed in a little oil, add meat, fish, shrimp chick peas, eggplant, kidney beans or whatever else you’re having, salt it, add cumin and masala spices, cook for necessary amount of time. Serve with rice.
Monday we tackled the bank…I so dreaded that one (closing the PITA Citibank account). Shock of all shocks, it only took 20 minutes, I had no trouble draining the account and left with paperwork for both of us to sign to end our Citibank India misery.
I did feel even more conspicuous than usual at the bank, which is always busy and for the few times I’ve been forced to go inside, we’re generally been the entertainment for everyone in line, along with everyone who works there.
This day was no different; Ava was riding the line ropes like a horse, Claire was sitting on the floor reading (not exactly the norm at the bank) and I was being given a few thousand dollars worth of rupees.
These were stuffed into a brown paper bag and of course the entire place knew I was sashaying out with a huge wad of cash. I promptly turned it over for our airplane tickets – the guy who processed them wanted me to fork over my credit card so he could take it to Delhi (a 45-minute trip one way) and run it, then bring it back. I don’t think so…
Cashing it up with him was a better solution than turning the dough over to pounds in India, where I was told there are limits on how much can be changed over, you have to have documentation for the money, etc. (No, the bank couldn’t give me English currency; I asked.) On the UK side, the rate for rupees isn’t good, plus not many places convert them.
Monday evening I spent getting a hair cut, picking up the last of my tailored items and getting pampered as spa mentioned above. Not a bad way to end the India adventure!
Despite his presence – and after I’d downloaded all forms sent our way to approve shipment…and filled them out with Joe’s signature, the idiot in charge pulled out yet another form after Joe’d left for the airport. You should have seen his face when I told him I would sign since Joe was at the airport (wherein idiot asked if he could come back to sign it).
Sure enough, Joe was asked for his signature from London so the shipment could leave India. I will so not miss the processes here – making everything more complicated than it needs to be.
Kids and I picked up our passports with our new UK visas Friday evening; that was a 6 hour experience. Two hours to get there, 15 minutes to pick them up, 1 ½ hours to have dinner at Oh! Calcutta (very good, I might add), 2 ¼ hours to get back home. (No, it’s not that far; rush hour traffic starts around 6, lasts ‘til 10:30).
Saturday we hit a market in Delhi for a last hurrah, and Sunday we spent the afternoon at Miss Margie’s. She taught me how to make chicken masala, which was lots of fun and tasted incredibly good. Base for all masalas is the same: ginger, onion, garlic, tomatoes sautéed in a little oil, add meat, fish, shrimp chick peas, eggplant, kidney beans or whatever else you’re having, salt it, add cumin and masala spices, cook for necessary amount of time. Serve with rice.
Monday we tackled the bank…I so dreaded that one (closing the PITA Citibank account). Shock of all shocks, it only took 20 minutes, I had no trouble draining the account and left with paperwork for both of us to sign to end our Citibank India misery.
I did feel even more conspicuous than usual at the bank, which is always busy and for the few times I’ve been forced to go inside, we’re generally been the entertainment for everyone in line, along with everyone who works there.
This day was no different; Ava was riding the line ropes like a horse, Claire was sitting on the floor reading (not exactly the norm at the bank) and I was being given a few thousand dollars worth of rupees.
These were stuffed into a brown paper bag and of course the entire place knew I was sashaying out with a huge wad of cash. I promptly turned it over for our airplane tickets – the guy who processed them wanted me to fork over my credit card so he could take it to Delhi (a 45-minute trip one way) and run it, then bring it back. I don’t think so…
Cashing it up with him was a better solution than turning the dough over to pounds in India, where I was told there are limits on how much can be changed over, you have to have documentation for the money, etc. (No, the bank couldn’t give me English currency; I asked.) On the UK side, the rate for rupees isn’t good, plus not many places convert them.
Monday evening I spent getting a hair cut, picking up the last of my tailored items and getting pampered as spa mentioned above. Not a bad way to end the India adventure!
Winding it down in India
February 28, 2009
Well I can hardly believe we’ve been here 4 months – I’m sure time can’t pass that quickly.
We are now getting ready to leave sunny, messy, people-filled India for dreary – but cool, hip, trendy cosmopolitan -- London. I’m sad to leave. I’ve so enjoyed the people here, their generosity and sense of humor, the “lost in translation” moments (and of course those times when absolutely nothing gets translated), the masses of people who all seem to get across the street in one piece despite cars buses motorcycles rickshaws bicycles weaving honking swerving flying around them.
I’ll miss seeing the occasional bony horse plodding placidly along in the midst of rush hour traffic that makes Charlotte’s busiest day seem like a sleeper.
I’ll miss seeing those auto rickshaws stuffed so full of people I wonder how the engine can go half a block, let alone a few kilometers. I’ll miss seeing 8 uniformed kids with backpacks being pedaled home in a bicycle rickshaw by a bony peddler. (Believe me, there’s no extra weight on anyone in India who does manual labor.) I’ll miss seeing people sitting on top of buses and hanging off the sides on their way to and from work. (I will not miss sitting in traffic, attempting to traverse 20 kilometers in less than 2 hours…thankfully we avoided most of these situations, but not always).
I’ll miss our driver, who is a nice, quiet, unassuming man…yet of course has a wealth of information at his fingertips through the pervasive driver network. (Never mind his own story – who knows what that might entail.) Only recently did I learn he’s a smoker. I will cherish the moment I caught him w/ a pack of cigarettes and teased him about it. Yes, Indians do blush under that dark skin.
And yesterday I found out he has two children – a baby and a 4 year old. You think you know someone…
I shall miss our hotel. Frankly, hotel living has been delightful. Great coffee every morning, made well by someone else. I’ve so enjoyed my early morning trips down to the first floor where very personable hotel staffers are quietly awaiting breakfast eaters and I get to enjoy my cup and a chat.
The hotel has also enabled us to enjoy India in an easier fashion; we didn’t have to spend time and energy setting up house (I’ve heard horror stories about setting up services, getting and keeping staff (staff is critical here; I scoffed before I came – I now understand – just keeping a house relatively clean is a daily scrub job, you could spend all your time trying to track down the items you need for one meal, running 3 errands takes an entire day…).
So yes, the hotel has allowed us to see the best of India from a cocoon – safe food, built in security and staff, short commute for Joe. Thus we didn’t get “immersed” in the culture but enjoyed it from the fringes. Pros and cons, no doubt.
All the good-byes and welcome home greetings we’ve received coming and going from the hotel I’ll miss – yet it will be nice to have a bit of anonymity back. Breakfast in a robe sounds good, too. And I hope I’ll remember to be grateful that I won’t have to go through security checkpoints every time I return home. I appreciate the Crowne’s diligence in helping to ensure guests’ safety and it’s a shame terrorists have encroached on our freedom in such a way.
Happy hours at the club have been a great way to end the day and meet other travelers. Along the way we’ve chatted with people from various parts of the world and made some good friends, plus the club staff has been particularly personable.
Rocky and Prerna are favorites of the kids; Ava got plenty of tours of the kitchen with both of them, and Claire had a ready audience for her computer games.
I’ll miss the workout facility – nice to wrap up coffee and head in to sweat, greeted by several happy faces, a bottle of water and a towel. The gym equipment isn’t bad by hotel standards, but what really shines are the steam room and sauna.
I’ve decided when I’m old I’ll get a sauna. (What am I saying? The only thing I’m waiting to do when I’m old is watch TV; by then I’m hoping there will be more options.)
Anyway, the steam room and sauna are fabulous. Simply fabulous. Except when that nude woman is in there doing scissor kicks. Well, also that other nude woman with boobs bigger than Ava who is a chatty Cathy…
While I’m on the hotel roll, relaxing by the pool will be one of my many good memories. With the lovely background music, sun shimmering off the blue water and the comfy chairs w/ red/white towels covering them, it’s been a lovely oasis from the chaos outside the hotel.
Note: Much as I’ve enjoyed India, sometimes one needs a complete break from the overt poverty (small children working the busiest streets for money, hovels just down the street where people build fires at night for warmth and use canvas, boxes, bricks, whatever makeshift shelters they can create to live in), men peeing anywhere and everywhere, many not even turning their backs – and these are men of all socioeconomic levels – I keep wanted to yell: be discreet -- go behind a tree if you don't have an option (realizing many of these people are without access to plumbing).
The dirt and dust (no sidewalks, smells of urine in the most public of places, rampant construction throughout Gurgaon, every sidewalk crammed full of people, stray dogs here there and everywhere, cows poring through trash (I wonder what they’re looking for? Candy bar wrappers? Cigarette butts? Soda cans? What part of a trash dump could possibly be enticing to a bovine?), the unpredictability of bathrooms – will they have TP? Will the floor be sopping wet from the hose Indians use to clean up? Will there be a toilet w/ a seat? chaos on the road at all times, incessant stares because of our skin color, my short hair, the kids (Indian people seem to love children and dote on them, touch them, get way up close and personal, sometimes scare the hell out of them…), my western clothing…
To that end, I’ll also miss the brightly colored clothing that abounds here. It’s delightful to see so many beautiful hues on the lovely women here. While I can’t say the somewhat shapeless style of saris appeals to me (I like feeling like I have a waist, though I guess the sari is ideal for pregnancy, right?), these women carry them off gracefully, casually tossing cloth over their shoulders and gliding along with all those folds swaying gently.
I must say, I’ve also seen some great sari fashion statements – one woman I spied recently had on a lovely sari, baseball cap and ponytail. Every once in a while I see someone all decked out in fabric, heavy jewelry and big Nike tennis shoes.
No doubt they comment on my t-shirts and jeans too; I’ve certainly received plenty of looks. I’m quite excited to live where I can resurface my tank tops and not have anyone bat an eyelash.
What I hope I’ll always remember is how so many people of different religions and walks of life co-exist – not perfectly – but in some kind of symmetry that works for India. It’s fascinating to walk down a busy street and see visible signs of various faiths: Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, every once in a while a Buddhist or Christian (harder to tell w/ the latter). It makes for a rich and interesting culture.
The food here has been delightful: rich, spicy and varied. Veg is as varied as non-veg, and either choice is respected. No food wars! I do have to laugh at the automatic assumption that since you’re white you won’t enjoy spicy food.
While the food is to die for – pass on the wine. If you come here, seek imported (and hope they store it properly).
Another aspect of life in India that I did my best to take full advantage of is the inexpensive access to spa services. My feet have never felt better; pedicures here last at least 45 minutes and involve all kinds of scrubs, massage, lotions, etc. Head rubs are a misnomer – you get your back, arms, neck and head rubbed. Fabulous. And of course the full body massages I’ve had have been delightful.
I'll not miss having to fight for a place in line (what line? Most people just push their way in). That and not having strangers way up close and personal. I like a bit of breathing room. Plus sometimes all those layers of clothes and the heat don’t make for aroma therapy. In particular, the airport line cutting got on my nerves. Hello, we all have planes to catch…
I do have a new found respect for patience – people here have more of it than anywhere I’ve seen, as I think they’re used to navigating amidst a burgeoning population in a hit and miss infrastructure. Road travel, for example – in discussing going to see the Taj Mahal, Ram's suggestion was to leaving at 4:00 in the morning without batting an eyelash. Leaving then would put you in front of the Taj at 10 a.m. Six hours to go 200 kilometers blows my mind. Someone else recommended we go by train to Amritsar (“a nice ride – only six hours” –one way. Only?).
One sees the patience thing on the road for the most part. There are the occasional skirmishes following fender benders, of which we saw plenty, but generally people weave in and out, seek a spot to merge into aggressively but when beat to the punch, don’t get perturbed, just use their horn for the next opportunity. (Non-stop horn noise.)
Shopping here, once I got the hang of bargaining, has been great fun. I’m still amazed at what these little shack like shops pack away, and how the shopkeepers (actually their lackeys) can lay their hands on items in no time, often from some upstairs corner.
I have also gotten used to being waited on by men; most women’s shops are full of men, many very young. Some of them are very good at judging sizes – quite helpful. All store seem overstaffed, each person with a different role (folder, hanger, security guy, cashier, sales people, floor cleaner, mirror cleaner, you get the idea…). Some days you get 4 people helping you with a single simple request, thus making the interaction four times as complicated.
Many men also work in spas; I’d received a salon gift certificate for approximately $20 so my last evening in Gurgaon I headed there for a pedicure, manicure and head massage (yes, total was $20). Most of the service providers there are young men, who did a great job, I might add. At one point during my pampering three men were working on me at one time -- one massaging my feet, another my hands, another removing the oil from my hair with a towel. Rough life.
I will so miss the sense of humor I’ve encountered with most Indian people, made even better by the delayed reaction as a joke gets translated.
What else?!? So much to absorb in 4 short months. It’s been a great experience; I hope to dive into London in a similar fashion.
Well I can hardly believe we’ve been here 4 months – I’m sure time can’t pass that quickly.
We are now getting ready to leave sunny, messy, people-filled India for dreary – but cool, hip, trendy cosmopolitan -- London. I’m sad to leave. I’ve so enjoyed the people here, their generosity and sense of humor, the “lost in translation” moments (and of course those times when absolutely nothing gets translated), the masses of people who all seem to get across the street in one piece despite cars buses motorcycles rickshaws bicycles weaving honking swerving flying around them.
I’ll miss seeing the occasional bony horse plodding placidly along in the midst of rush hour traffic that makes Charlotte’s busiest day seem like a sleeper.
I’ll miss seeing those auto rickshaws stuffed so full of people I wonder how the engine can go half a block, let alone a few kilometers. I’ll miss seeing 8 uniformed kids with backpacks being pedaled home in a bicycle rickshaw by a bony peddler. (Believe me, there’s no extra weight on anyone in India who does manual labor.) I’ll miss seeing people sitting on top of buses and hanging off the sides on their way to and from work. (I will not miss sitting in traffic, attempting to traverse 20 kilometers in less than 2 hours…thankfully we avoided most of these situations, but not always).
I’ll miss our driver, who is a nice, quiet, unassuming man…yet of course has a wealth of information at his fingertips through the pervasive driver network. (Never mind his own story – who knows what that might entail.) Only recently did I learn he’s a smoker. I will cherish the moment I caught him w/ a pack of cigarettes and teased him about it. Yes, Indians do blush under that dark skin.
And yesterday I found out he has two children – a baby and a 4 year old. You think you know someone…
I shall miss our hotel. Frankly, hotel living has been delightful. Great coffee every morning, made well by someone else. I’ve so enjoyed my early morning trips down to the first floor where very personable hotel staffers are quietly awaiting breakfast eaters and I get to enjoy my cup and a chat.
The hotel has also enabled us to enjoy India in an easier fashion; we didn’t have to spend time and energy setting up house (I’ve heard horror stories about setting up services, getting and keeping staff (staff is critical here; I scoffed before I came – I now understand – just keeping a house relatively clean is a daily scrub job, you could spend all your time trying to track down the items you need for one meal, running 3 errands takes an entire day…).
So yes, the hotel has allowed us to see the best of India from a cocoon – safe food, built in security and staff, short commute for Joe. Thus we didn’t get “immersed” in the culture but enjoyed it from the fringes. Pros and cons, no doubt.
All the good-byes and welcome home greetings we’ve received coming and going from the hotel I’ll miss – yet it will be nice to have a bit of anonymity back. Breakfast in a robe sounds good, too. And I hope I’ll remember to be grateful that I won’t have to go through security checkpoints every time I return home. I appreciate the Crowne’s diligence in helping to ensure guests’ safety and it’s a shame terrorists have encroached on our freedom in such a way.
Happy hours at the club have been a great way to end the day and meet other travelers. Along the way we’ve chatted with people from various parts of the world and made some good friends, plus the club staff has been particularly personable.
Rocky and Prerna are favorites of the kids; Ava got plenty of tours of the kitchen with both of them, and Claire had a ready audience for her computer games.
I’ll miss the workout facility – nice to wrap up coffee and head in to sweat, greeted by several happy faces, a bottle of water and a towel. The gym equipment isn’t bad by hotel standards, but what really shines are the steam room and sauna.
I’ve decided when I’m old I’ll get a sauna. (What am I saying? The only thing I’m waiting to do when I’m old is watch TV; by then I’m hoping there will be more options.)
Anyway, the steam room and sauna are fabulous. Simply fabulous. Except when that nude woman is in there doing scissor kicks. Well, also that other nude woman with boobs bigger than Ava who is a chatty Cathy…
While I’m on the hotel roll, relaxing by the pool will be one of my many good memories. With the lovely background music, sun shimmering off the blue water and the comfy chairs w/ red/white towels covering them, it’s been a lovely oasis from the chaos outside the hotel.
Note: Much as I’ve enjoyed India, sometimes one needs a complete break from the overt poverty (small children working the busiest streets for money, hovels just down the street where people build fires at night for warmth and use canvas, boxes, bricks, whatever makeshift shelters they can create to live in), men peeing anywhere and everywhere, many not even turning their backs – and these are men of all socioeconomic levels – I keep wanted to yell: be discreet -- go behind a tree if you don't have an option (realizing many of these people are without access to plumbing).
The dirt and dust (no sidewalks, smells of urine in the most public of places, rampant construction throughout Gurgaon, every sidewalk crammed full of people, stray dogs here there and everywhere, cows poring through trash (I wonder what they’re looking for? Candy bar wrappers? Cigarette butts? Soda cans? What part of a trash dump could possibly be enticing to a bovine?), the unpredictability of bathrooms – will they have TP? Will the floor be sopping wet from the hose Indians use to clean up? Will there be a toilet w/ a seat? chaos on the road at all times, incessant stares because of our skin color, my short hair, the kids (Indian people seem to love children and dote on them, touch them, get way up close and personal, sometimes scare the hell out of them…), my western clothing…
To that end, I’ll also miss the brightly colored clothing that abounds here. It’s delightful to see so many beautiful hues on the lovely women here. While I can’t say the somewhat shapeless style of saris appeals to me (I like feeling like I have a waist, though I guess the sari is ideal for pregnancy, right?), these women carry them off gracefully, casually tossing cloth over their shoulders and gliding along with all those folds swaying gently.
I must say, I’ve also seen some great sari fashion statements – one woman I spied recently had on a lovely sari, baseball cap and ponytail. Every once in a while I see someone all decked out in fabric, heavy jewelry and big Nike tennis shoes.
No doubt they comment on my t-shirts and jeans too; I’ve certainly received plenty of looks. I’m quite excited to live where I can resurface my tank tops and not have anyone bat an eyelash.
What I hope I’ll always remember is how so many people of different religions and walks of life co-exist – not perfectly – but in some kind of symmetry that works for India. It’s fascinating to walk down a busy street and see visible signs of various faiths: Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, every once in a while a Buddhist or Christian (harder to tell w/ the latter). It makes for a rich and interesting culture.
The food here has been delightful: rich, spicy and varied. Veg is as varied as non-veg, and either choice is respected. No food wars! I do have to laugh at the automatic assumption that since you’re white you won’t enjoy spicy food.
While the food is to die for – pass on the wine. If you come here, seek imported (and hope they store it properly).
Another aspect of life in India that I did my best to take full advantage of is the inexpensive access to spa services. My feet have never felt better; pedicures here last at least 45 minutes and involve all kinds of scrubs, massage, lotions, etc. Head rubs are a misnomer – you get your back, arms, neck and head rubbed. Fabulous. And of course the full body massages I’ve had have been delightful.
I'll not miss having to fight for a place in line (what line? Most people just push their way in). That and not having strangers way up close and personal. I like a bit of breathing room. Plus sometimes all those layers of clothes and the heat don’t make for aroma therapy. In particular, the airport line cutting got on my nerves. Hello, we all have planes to catch…
I do have a new found respect for patience – people here have more of it than anywhere I’ve seen, as I think they’re used to navigating amidst a burgeoning population in a hit and miss infrastructure. Road travel, for example – in discussing going to see the Taj Mahal, Ram's suggestion was to leaving at 4:00 in the morning without batting an eyelash. Leaving then would put you in front of the Taj at 10 a.m. Six hours to go 200 kilometers blows my mind. Someone else recommended we go by train to Amritsar (“a nice ride – only six hours” –one way. Only?).
One sees the patience thing on the road for the most part. There are the occasional skirmishes following fender benders, of which we saw plenty, but generally people weave in and out, seek a spot to merge into aggressively but when beat to the punch, don’t get perturbed, just use their horn for the next opportunity. (Non-stop horn noise.)
Shopping here, once I got the hang of bargaining, has been great fun. I’m still amazed at what these little shack like shops pack away, and how the shopkeepers (actually their lackeys) can lay their hands on items in no time, often from some upstairs corner.
I have also gotten used to being waited on by men; most women’s shops are full of men, many very young. Some of them are very good at judging sizes – quite helpful. All store seem overstaffed, each person with a different role (folder, hanger, security guy, cashier, sales people, floor cleaner, mirror cleaner, you get the idea…). Some days you get 4 people helping you with a single simple request, thus making the interaction four times as complicated.
Many men also work in spas; I’d received a salon gift certificate for approximately $20 so my last evening in Gurgaon I headed there for a pedicure, manicure and head massage (yes, total was $20). Most of the service providers there are young men, who did a great job, I might add. At one point during my pampering three men were working on me at one time -- one massaging my feet, another my hands, another removing the oil from my hair with a towel. Rough life.
I will so miss the sense of humor I’ve encountered with most Indian people, made even better by the delayed reaction as a joke gets translated.
What else?!? So much to absorb in 4 short months. It’s been a great experience; I hope to dive into London in a similar fashion.
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Jama Masjid, Old Delhi
Largest mosque in India
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