We’re on our way to England tonight for three weeks.
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Kew has a number of huge glass houses hosting plants from around the world that aren’t especially fond of English weather.
But for me there was one disappointment in our visit to Kew Gardens. I was hoping to find some trace of Robert Fortune, the buccaneering botanist who got away with massive industrial espionage against the Chinese tea industry in the mid 19th century, bringing many of the spoils back to Kew:
Apparently ordinary visitors could look at his stuff in the Economic Botany collection decades ago, but it isn’t open to the public anymore:
Rediscovering 174 years of Tea - Tea Journey
The Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew houses a remarkable cache of tea leaves and tea material culture collected over the past 174 years.
Tea Journey (teajourney.pub)
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But for me there was one disappointment in our visit to Kew Gardens. I was hoping to find some trace of Robert Fortune, the buccaneering botanist who got away with massive industrial espionage against the Chinese tea industry in the mid 19th century, bringing many of the spoils back to Kew:
Apparently ordinary visitors could look at his stuff in the Economic Botany collection decades ago, but it isn’t open to the public anymore:
Rediscovering 174 years of Tea - Tea Journey
The Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew houses a remarkable cache of tea leaves and tea material culture collected over the past 174 years.
Tea Journey (teajourney.pub)
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I don’t think I could prove that English gallows humor is different in some specific way from, say, the German or Jewish varieties, but I like it a lot.
Nothing much was happening in Speakers’ Corner.
But we fell in with a procession of Sikhs on their way to their annual demonstration marking a 1984 massacre and calling for an independent Sikh homeland in Punjab.
It was a mellow crowd, and Spouse and I had a good conversation with a Sikh couple. I was surprised to learn there are about 2 million Sikhs in the UK.
We eventually left them behind and walked to Trafalgar Square where we originally intended to go and where, coincidentally, the big Sikh demo was being prepared.
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Nothing much was happening in Speakers’ Corner.
But we fell in with a procession of Sikhs on their way to their annual demonstration marking a 1984 massacre and calling for an independent Sikh homeland in Punjab.
It was a mellow crowd, and Spouse and I had a good conversation with a Sikh couple. I was surprised to learn there are about 2 million Sikhs in the UK.
We eventually left them behind and walked to Trafalgar Square where we originally intended to go and where, coincidentally, the big Sikh demo was being prepared.
After Trafalgar Square, for no good reason, we made our way to Soho. We happened upon a Hare Krishna temple’s cafeteria and went in for a late lunch.
Judging by the employees—sect devotees?—unlike in NYC, London Hare Krishnas aren’t white reformed druggies, they’re people born Hindu. And the customers are, too.
The food (vegetarian of course) was quite good and cheap for its quality. The place runs super efficiently, with a much higher employee-customer ratio than you’d normally see except in a luxury restaurant. No doubt this is made possible by the employees working more for, shall we say, love than money?
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After Trafalgar Square, for no good reason, we made our way to Soho. We happened upon a Hare Krishna temple’s cafeteria and went in for a late lunch.
Judging by the employees—sect devotees?—unlike in NYC, London Hare Krishnas aren’t white reformed druggies, they’re people born Hindu. And the customers are, too.
The food (vegetarian of course) was quite good and cheap for its quality. The place runs super efficiently, with a much higher employee-customer ratio than you’d normally see except in a luxury restaurant. No doubt this is made possible by the employees working more for, shall we say, love than money?
Because we could see on the map that London’s Chinatown was nearby, we walked through Soho to get there.
London’s Chinatown is unlike any Chinatown in the USA I know (maybe 8 in NYC alone plus SF, DC, Philadelphia, LA.) It’s so orderly! Maybe 15 blocks with no vehicular traffic, profusely hung with thousands of red (paper? plastic?) lanterns, and lined with many many restaurants and other shops, lots of which seem pretty posh. *Of course* tea means bubble tea.
The whole district was busy on a Sunday afternoon, more so than Soho proper. The crowd was varied, and you could tell the district must be recommended by whatever media Chinese tourists refer to these days.
There must be a story behind the project that is London’s Chinatown, and I’d like to know it.
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Because we could see on the map that London’s Chinatown was nearby, we walked through Soho to get there.
London’s Chinatown is unlike any Chinatown in the USA I know (maybe 8 in NYC alone plus SF, DC, Philadelphia, LA.) It’s so orderly! Maybe 15 blocks with no vehicular traffic, profusely hung with thousands of red (paper? plastic?) lanterns, and lined with many many restaurants and other shops, lots of which seem pretty posh. *Of course* tea means bubble tea.
The whole district was busy on a Sunday afternoon, more so than Soho proper. The crowd was varied, and you could tell the district must be recommended by whatever media Chinese tourists refer to these days.
There must be a story behind the project that is London’s Chinatown, and I’d like to know it.
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Near our London hotel, deceptive advertising that would never be engaged in by those who do free-as-in-speech.
We spent today at London’s National Gallery. You don’t need me to tell you it has two Vermeers and hundreds—thousands?—of other great paintings. Let me tell you a couple of things about the museum that most likely didn’t make it into guidebooks.
First, the captions on the wall are really worth reading. Not only are they informative, but sometimes they’re argumentative, even spicy.
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We spent today at London’s National Gallery. You don’t need me to tell you it has two Vermeers and hundreds—thousands?—of other great paintings. Let me tell you a couple of things about the museum that most likely didn’t make it into guidebooks.
First, the captions on the wall are really worth reading. Not only are they informative, but sometimes they’re argumentative, even spicy.
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There’s an Ingres painting where he turns his sharp attention to the face, and more importantly the character, of a mean cop: the police chief of Rome when Napoleon ruled Italy.
I love Peter Brueghel the Elder so much! He didn’t just accept well-worn iconography, he rethought it again and again.
In this adoration of the Magi nobody looks happy. The wise men are ugly and they’re nervous. The virgin is kind of hiding. The baby has this attitude of, who are these people and why are they bothering me? There are menacing soldiers in the background.
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I love Peter Brueghel the Elder so much! He didn’t just accept well-worn iconography, he rethought it again and again.
In this adoration of the Magi nobody looks happy. The wise men are ugly and they’re nervous. The virgin is kind of hiding. The baby has this attitude of, who are these people and why are they bothering me? There are menacing soldiers in the background.
Then there’s this painting by an unknown artist from France or the Low Countries from the early 1500s.
Could there possibly be a weirder Madonna and Child? I doubt it. There’s a saint on either side of the holy duo, but at the bottom of the painting there’s A MONSTER WITH WIDE OPEN JAWS WITH SPIKY TEETH!
In fact, if you look closely you see the saint on the right is emerging from the monster. That saint would be St. Margaret, who is said to have been swallowed by a dragon who couldn’t keep her down.
(Hi Margaret!)
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Then there’s this painting by an unknown artist from France or the Low Countries from the early 1500s.
Could there possibly be a weirder Madonna and Child? I doubt it. There’s a saint on either side of the holy duo, but at the bottom of the painting there’s A MONSTER WITH WIDE OPEN JAWS WITH SPIKY TEETH!
In fact, if you look closely you see the saint on the right is emerging from the monster. That saint would be St. Margaret, who is said to have been swallowed by a dragon who couldn’t keep her down.
(Hi Margaret!)
Today’s weather was blustery and drizzly, so we decided to go back to the National Gallery. I am sure you could spend the best part of a week there.
There’s hardly any nationalist nonsense there, if you ignore the coronation portraits of Chuck III and Camilla. But at the top of a staircase you can walk on a mosaic of Winston Churchill in his wartime siren suit
confronting a monster that, if you squint hard enough, seems to be shaped like a swastika.
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Today’s weather was blustery and drizzly, so we decided to go back to the National Gallery. I am sure you could spend the best part of a week there.
There’s hardly any nationalist nonsense there, if you ignore the coronation portraits of Chuck III and Camilla. But at the top of a staircase you can walk on a mosaic of Winston Churchill in his wartime siren suit
confronting a monster that, if you squint hard enough, seems to be shaped like a swastika.
Thé National Gallery is insanely deep in Italian Renaissance art, and today we saw a lot of art by painters with surnames ending in vowels. I was really surprised by how much I liked works by artists I’d never heard of.
Because of his charismatic painting of St. Francis in the Frick Collection, I’ve certainly heard of Giovanni Bellini. But this painting credited to his workshop belongs to a *genre* I’d never heard of: the circumcision of Jesus.
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Thé National Gallery is insanely deep in Italian Renaissance art, and today we saw a lot of art by painters with surnames ending in vowels. I was really surprised by how much I liked works by artists I’d never heard of.
Because of his charismatic painting of St. Francis in the Frick Collection, I’ve certainly heard of Giovanni Bellini. But this painting credited to his workshop belongs to a *genre* I’d never heard of: the circumcision of Jesus.
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We walked back to our hotel through Hyde Park, and we were lucky enough to encounter a linden tree that still had fragrant flowers this late in June.
Today’s weather was to be rainless, so we set out for Hampstead Heath and Highgate Cemetery.
Now that we’re familiar with the Central London transport options (Tube and bus) we were ready for the added degree of difficulty of transferring from the Tube at West Hampstead to the Overground for two stops to the Heath.
The Overground is pretty much a suburban railroad system that doesn’t exactly share stations with the Tube but comes pretty close at a number of places. It’s a little startling to see big freight trains on the Overground tracks blowing past the platform you’re waiting on. I suppose this limits how often the actual Overground trains run.
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Today’s weather was to be rainless, so we set out for Hampstead Heath and Highgate Cemetery.
Now that we’re familiar with the Central London transport options (Tube and bus) we were ready for the added degree of difficulty of transferring from the Tube at West Hampstead to the Overground for two stops to the Heath.
The Overground is pretty much a suburban railroad system that doesn’t exactly share stations with the Tube but comes pretty close at a number of places. It’s a little startling to see big freight trains on the Overground tracks blowing past the platform you’re waiting on. I suppose this limits how often the actual Overground trains run.
I’m developing more affection for the Tube with time. At least some of the lines seem to run more frequently than any in the NYC subway. One of those lines, the Central, is the one closest to our hotel.
And the narrow coaches with domed tops and curved sides and even curved doors dictated by the dimensions of the tunnels on some (older?) lines? In my current mood I find them kind of charming.
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I’m developing more affection for the Tube with time. At least some of the lines seem to run more frequently than any in the NYC subway. One of those lines, the Central, is the one closest to our hotel.
And the narrow coaches with domed tops and curved sides and even curved doors dictated by the dimensions of the tunnels on some (older?) lines? In my current mood I find them kind of charming.
Hampstead Heath is vast. We only covered maybe a third of it walking across it toward Highgate and later walking back across it at another angle from below Highgate Cemetery. It also gives something much closer to solitude than the parks closer to the center of London.
This allee reminded me of some German parks we’ve been to.
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Hampstead Heath is vast. We only covered maybe a third of it walking across it toward Highgate and later walking back across it at another angle from below Highgate Cemetery. It also gives something much closer to solitude than the parks closer to the center of London.
This allee reminded me of some German parks we’ve been to.
In Hampstead Heath, Spouse noticed a guy in a Heath t-shirt doing something mysterious at the base of a poplar tree surrounded by poplar fluff and asked him what he was doing.
Answer: counting the shells left behind by the hornet moth larvae infesting balsam poplar trees with fatal results these days.
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In Hampstead Heath, Spouse noticed a guy in a Heath t-shirt doing something mysterious at the base of a poplar tree surrounded by poplar fluff and asked him what he was doing.
Answer: counting the shells left behind by the hornet moth larvae infesting balsam poplar trees with fatal results these days.
The East section of Highgate Cemetery is the more recent section (19th century till now, making it roughly contemporaneous with Green-Wood in Brooklyn.) It’s also the part that’s cheaper to visit and lets you wander without a tour guide, so that’s where we went.
When you enter, there’s no doubt whatsoever what—who—is the main attraction.
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The East section of Highgate Cemetery is the more recent section (19th century till now, making it roughly contemporaneous with Green-Wood in Brooklyn.) It’s also the part that’s cheaper to visit and lets you wander without a tour guide, so that’s where we went.
When you enter, there’s no doubt whatsoever what—who—is the main attraction.
On the way to Karl Marx’s grave we stopped at Shura Cherkassky’s. He was a classical pianist with a gorgeous sound who was all about the music, egoless, a little old guy who could hold an audience spellbound with a minimum of movement onstage. His repertoire ranged from Rameau to Stockhausen.
