camden market and soho

On Saturday, Jan. 17, Joyce and I went to the Camden Market and wandered the stalls. Joyce was simply there to see the latest fashions of the subcultural fringe, while I was in search a bag--a murse (man purse), as I've decided to call it. There were plenty of murses about, but none really called my name--in fact, most had the manufacturer's names on them, and I really dislike wearing clothing (or sporting accessories) with prominent labels. We did, however, enjoy ourselves, and we had some good curry from one of the many take-away stalls.

After searching for the right bag in Portobello Road, I found my murse at an military surplus store just around the corner from Vincent House in Notting Hill, where I'm staying. Go figure.

The following day, Shane and I followed Robert Wright's tour of Soho. Sunday morning is good time to wander Soho, because no one else is there as most of the shops (and other places of trade) are closed. While on this walk I spotted King Charles II in Soho Square,

found William Blake's birthplace,

and ran into Janet Leigh.


While we did see some sex shops and peep shows around Soho, we found very little evidence of the area's red-light reputation. This sign, however, indicated that we were, indeed, in the land of the lascivious.


Shane had a little shopping to do.


We roamed through Chinatown, where the streets were festooned with lanterns in preparation for the Chinese New Year celebrations.

the big snow

This past Monday, London awoke to find itself covered in snow. In fact, this was the heaviest snowfall in nearly 20 years, and the city still hasn't fully recovered from it. As of early Monday morning, none of the buses were running, and many of the Tube stops were also closed. All the Underground trains were experiencing either minor or severe delays, and one of the longtime residents of Vincent House told me that the Notting Hill Gate station was closed, which worried me a little bit, because I was scheduled to teach that day, starting at 9:00 am. Looking out the window, I didn't get the sense that the snow was too debilitating, so I decided to walk to the station and find out what the situation was. This is what Pembridge Garden--the road that leads the Underground station--looked like at 8 am:

The Notting Hill Gate station was open, so, after waiting for a couple of very packed trains to go by, I squeezed my way onto one, and headed to work. I arrived at Anglo-American Educational Services (this is where our classes are held) on Bloomsbury Square at a quarter to nine and waited for someone to arrive and open the building. Meanwhile I admired a very snowy Charles James Fox:

The first group of students arrived, and they were happy to be sliding around in the snow and throwing snowballs at one another and at me.



In all, eleven of eighteen students showed up to class, and eventually someone from Anglo arrived to open the doors. (Several of the other students got stuck at Super Bowl party out in zone who-knows-which. They made a valiant effort to get into London--in spite of a complete absence of public transportation in the area they had stayed.)

After class, I decided to visit the British Museum, where only the main floor exhibitions were open. Particularly impressive was the blanket of snow over the glass dome covering the Great Court:
I spent about an hour in the one room devoted to art from what is now Mexico, and then I wandered down to Lincoln Inn's Fields, where lots of folks were romping around in the snow. It occurred to me that all the trains in the Underground might shut down, and then I'd be stuck a good distance from Notting Hill, so I took a train back there, and had some tasty Thai food at the Churchill Arms. Out front was a strange snowman and a snow arm-chair:


Later, I discovered that less than a fifth of London's workforce made it to work that day, and about that number stayed home the next. I can't say I really understand this. While this kind of snow may not fall on London on a regular basis, I think you'll agree that this isn't a phenomenal amount of snow. Nevertheless, it practically shut the city down. Even now, there are areas of London where the trash won't be picked up and removed until sometime next week. It seems to me that if I--a resident of the decidedly non-snowy Central Valley of California--can make it to work fifteen minutes early, surely a larger number of the residents of this fair city can make it to work. I find it strange. Still, it made for a memorable day, and I'm glad I was here to witness the Big Snow.

the tower to kensington to greenwich

On Friday, Jan. 16, I took the students to the Tower of London. The students were divided into small groups, and each gave a short presentation on some feature of the Tower. The Bloody Tower, the site of the scaffold, the White Tower, and the Ravens where all among the features they researched. One group even enacted the gruesome end of poor Margaret Pole. We then climbed the ramparts, admired the Crown Jewels, and checked out the graffiti in the Beauchamp Tower.

Here are some of the students enjoying the Tower:



One nifty feature of the Tower is its squeaky clean toilets. This is something they don't tell you in the guide books, but look:

Loo of the Year Awards in 2003 and 2005! How nifty is that?

After a tasty lunch at Grazing, Shane and I tubed it over to Kensington, where we pondered the Albert Memorial and walked around Royal Albert Hall. Here, fancy types who can afford overpriced tickets were emerging from cabs to see yet another new Cirque de Soleil show. We then walked down Exhibition Road to the Victoria and Albert and Natural History Museums. Here's Albert, gone but gilded:


Not satisfied with a nearly full day of walking, Shane and I then hopped on the Docklands Light Railway (DLR), and went to Greenwich. We got off the train at Island Gardens, and then crossed the river through a Victorian pedestrian tunnel that runs beneath the Thames. The Cutty Sark is getting a facelift, so we couldn't see it, but we did stop off at the nearby Trafalgar Tavern for ales and lovely views of the river before walking through the old naval College and up a hill to the Royal Observatory. The day had darkened, and from here we had great views of Canary Wharf and the Millennium Dome at night. I was happy with the night photos I took up here. This one is my favorite:

Notice the green laser projected from the Observatory that marks the Prime Meridian. East is East and West is West, and here is where they meet.

We ended the day with another ale at the King's Arms in Greenwich before boarding the DLR and heading back into London.

You'll Robert Wright's walking tour of Kensington here and his tour of Greenwich here.

all these years i've been wandering around

Today is the 40th anniversary of The Beatles' Let It Be rooftop concert, so I made a pilgrimage to 3 Savile Row, where The Beatles performed their final concert. As soon as I emerged from the Oxford Circus Tube stop and started walking down Regent Street, I began playing Let It Be on my iPod. I turned off on Mill Street, which essentially becomes Savile Row, and made my way down to number 3. I was a little surprised that I was the only person hanging around outside the building, although two others stopped there. I walked up to them, and we exchanged a few words: "40 years ago today," "yeah, right up there." And then I walked up and down the street, listening to most of the album, and trying to get some worthwhile pictures.


You can check out the Rooftop concert on youtube here.

st paul's & the city

After finishing up the walk to Kensington, Shane and I hopped a Tube across town to explore the area East of St Paul's Cathedral. As many times as I've walked around St Paul's, I've still never been inside, so I'm putting this high on my list of things to do while in London. We wandered over to Samuel Johnson's house, which I'd visited in 1997, when I was a graduate student doing some research at the British Library.

Our next few walks also took us around St Paul's. One of the most interesting was one that took us through some very small and out of the way alleyways and onto the properties of several of the old City Livery companies. We also got an up-close view of the Gherkin.

Here are a couple more photos of St Paul's.

westminster to hyde park to kensington

Even though it was getting late and dark, Shane and I decided to complete the second portion of "London's Greatest Walk," and so we made our way down Whitehall to the spot where Downing Street is blocked off and where guards stand vigil. We didn't see the Prime Minister (actually I don't know what he looks like, so perhaps we did, but I'm guessing no) and we walked down toward St James's Park, between the Foreign Office and the Treasury. We followed a maze of small streets and alleys, and found a frieze of Queen Anne along the street that bears her name. We then went back to St James's Park and admired the views of Buckingham Palace and the London Eye, before making our way through Green Park. This leg of the walk ended at Hyde Park Corner, just beyond the Wellington Arch. As it was dark, I didn't get any pictures during this stretch.

Rather than take the Tube back to Notting Hill, we decided to take the bus. There had just been many protests against the recent Israeli attacks on Gaza, so the streets were pretty jammed, and traffic was still fairly thick. It took ages to get to Notting Hill, but it was still cool to see all the fancy shops along Knightsbridge and Brompton Road.

The next day we joined our students for a bus tour around London. We'd arranged for our own coach and a guide named Abigail, who was entertaining and informative. That evening Joyce (who is teaching the Art course), Shane, and Carla (the program's administrative assistant) met at the Prince Edward, which is currently my favorite pub in the neighborhood. The fish and chips were great, and I liked both the Badger and the Tanglefoot ales.

Monday we began classes and, as we were busy with students and orientation and what not, Shane and I didn't complete "London's Greatest Walk" until Tuesday afternoon. It rained at the outset of the walk, but then the showers ceased, and Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens were beautiful in the clear, sunny skies, replete with rainbows. We followed the south and west banks of the Serpentine.



If you are into water fowl, The Serpentine is for you:


After wandering around the Serpentine Gallery for a little bit, we made our way to Kensington Palace, which was once the home of Princess Diana of Wales. We passed her memorial along the way:


We finished up at Kensington High Street.

south bank to big ben

OK, let's see if I can get caught up here.

Over the next two days, Shane and I took a three-part walk that took us from the South Bank to Kensington Palace. Robert Wright calls this "London's Greatest Walk," and it is a good one with plenty of classic sights to see along the way. It's also a long walk, and as the weather was pretty grim during our first day of it, we were icy cold along the Thames.

We began on the south end of the London Bridge, and visited Southwark Cathedral, where we found a memorial to Shakespeare. We didn't spend a lot of time here, so this is yet another cathedral I'd like to revisit, perhaps for a musical performance. Just beyond the Cathedral, near the Thames, is a replication of Sir Francis Drake's The Golden Hind. I was surprised at how small the vessel was--it certainly didn't look large enough to circumnavigate the world with much comfort or reassurance. Here's a picture of me being very chilly in front of it:


The walk took us past The Globe Theatre, alongside the Tate modern, and past the various buildings that are part of the South Bank Arts Centre (The Royal National Theatre, the National Film Theatre, Queen Elizabeth Hall, and the Royal Festival Hall). Many people think these are amongst the ugliest examples of London architecture. I don't have a strong opinion one way or another, but I liked the way that graffiti artists and skateboarders had taken over the lower level of Queen Elizabeth Hall. I couldn't help but wonder what she thinks of this. Is she amused?

We went past the London Eye (which is always impressive to look up at from underneath its massive supports) and County Hall. At that point, we crossed the river over the Westminster Bridge. We concluded this portion of the walk at dusk, and I took some fairly good pictures of Big Ben all lit up, just after sunset:

walk this way (holland park & notting hill)

I've discovered a great way to see London by foot, and I've tromping all over town ever since I arrived. Shane told me about a series of free podcasts by a man named Robert Wright, available through iTunes. Each podcast is a roughly one hour walk through a part of London, which Wright conducts in real time, as he records his description of the walk as he wanders the area he visits. So, we've downloaded the various walks, and walk the tour as we listen to our iPods. We began with the first walk through Holland Park, an area not to far from where I am staying, and we've completed over a dozen since then. You can learn about the walks and download them from this website. You can also subscribe to the podcast through iTunes. Here are some photos of the walks we've done so far.


This is the Kyoto Japanese Garden in Holland Park, which is a favorite with locals. We found people walking their dogs, jogging, exercises, and otherwise enjoying the place. It's beautiful even in the winter, so I can only imagine what it's like in more temperate weather. The park is home to the Holland House, which is a seventeenth-century mansion that is now the location for one of the most popular youth hostels in London.

We then took the walk through Notting Hill, which is the neighborhood where I'm staying. We walked past an apartment building where Dusty Springfield lived for some time. It was being renovated and covered with scaffolding, so we couldn't see it very well. Still, it was a thrill to imagine her looking out the window with her blonde Dusty-in-Memphis 'do. Notting Hill is the place where the piggeries and the potteries once were. So swine once roamed the area, and potters created their wares here. This is one of the few bottle kilns left in the city:

(That would be Miss Shane admiring the kiln.)

And here is a photo of the meats you can purchase at Lidgates, one of the most famous butchers in London:


Just so these posts don't beome crazy long, I'll break them up into bite-size pieces. I'll try to get caught up with the walks we've done and keep current from then on out.

london journal

It's a new year, and I'm starting a new role as co-director of CSU, Fresno's London Semester program. This seems as good a reason as any to get back into blogging--we'll just see how it goes.

I arrived in London yesterday, but not without much ado. My co-director, Shane, and I were scheduled to fly out of Fresno on the morning of Jan. 4, connect to a London flight at SFO, and arrive in London early in the morning on Jan. 5. When we arrived at the Fresno Airport, we learned that our Fresno-San Francisco flight was delayed because the plane hadn't arrived from Vegas. We were worried at hearing this news, because we had a quick layover in SF. We soon learned that the flight would be delayed indefinitely, and we realized we wouldn't make our connection to London. However, when we inquired at the ticketing desk, we also learned that there were no seats on any United flight to London--leaving any airport in North America--until Jan. 6. This would have put us in London only two days before our students were to arrive, and we had many tasks to accomplish in London before our students showed up. We found a sympathetic United ticketing agent who booked us on an already overbooked SF to London flight leaving later that evening. So, we awaited the plane that had been delayed in Vegas, and when it arrived, we boarded and readied to fly to San Francisco. But just as we settled into our seats, our pilot announced that the altimeter wasn't functioning, and that all passengers would have to disembark so that the plane could be taken to a hangar for repairs. When we asked at the desk when another plane would be flying to San Francisco, we learned that none were scheduled that would get us there in time to make our connection to London.

Panicked, we reviewed our alternatives and decided that we would have just enough time to take a rental car to San Francisco and make the overbooked flight--and then cross our fingers in hopes that we would be assigned seats. Shane rented the car, I hauled our luggage to the curb, and we sped off for San Francisco. And when I say "sped" I mean like the proverbial bat out of hell, as Shane, who is driver of maniacal proclivities, takes to highway driving like an intoxicated but determined cheetah. I spent the three plus hours of the trip shouting "80! You cannot exceed 80 miles an hour!" And "If you get pulled over, you won't be worrying about a citation, because I will have strangled you!" Careening into the Enterprise rental car center at SFO, we raced to the International terminal, and found our way to the United counter. I was certain we would be told that the flight is overbooked (we'd been told it was) and that we would have to settle with standby status; but Our Lady of Airline Travel must have had mercy upon us, as the kind fellow at the counter took our bags and handed us a couple of boarding passes with blessed seat assignments. What's more, we were both granted aisle seats! (Shane, of course, wrangled for an upgrade, but to no avail. I think it serves him right that he ended up in economy, while I luxuriated in Economy Plus.)

The flight to London was the most comfortable, relaxing international flight I've ever experienced. I sat next to a lad in his late teens with prideful locks, who preened himself the entire ten hour flight, but this was more amusing than it was annoying. I even slept that final five hours of the flight, and for me, that's unheard of. (I supposed I could go on about the singularly unappetizing meatloaf dinner, but I don't want to come across as unappreciative, so I won't.)

Upon landing, we gathered our bags, readily found a cab, and made our way to Vincent House, our lodgings for the next three months. Vincent House is a a residence for professionals working in London. Its founder was a woman who lived to see her dream of providing acceptable housing for London-based professionals come true. Some feed the poor, some rescue mistreated pets, others feel obliged to attend to the pressing needs of professionals who prefer to reside in lodgings replete with a "club like atmosphere."

And it is, in fact, a fine place to stay: on the ground floor is a dining facility (two meals daily come with price of lodging), a lounge, a bar, and a snooker table. (I don't know the first thing about snooker, but it sure is an amusing word to say aloud.) The rooms are small and spare, but comfortable, and they are cleaned daily. What's more, we have our own loos.

Here are a couple of pics of my room:



Here's the view from my window onto Pembridge Square in Notting Hill:


And here's a picture of some toilet paper that I very much dislike:


I'm beginning to learn the dos and don'ts of Vincent House: last night one choice for the main entree was leg of Guinea Hen. And when I placed two of these small morsels on my plate, a dining hall operative came to me and decreed, "Tonight I'll let you take two. But only tonight." I was a little taken aback, as the Guinea legs weren't what you'd call plentiful, and only two minutes later, the staff whisked them away, along with all the other bins of uneaten food on the buffet. I guess it's a matter of principle here: you shouldn't get accustomed to such extravagances. On the bright side, the enforcement of such policies just might have the effect of my losing some weight. More anon.

did someone say drag queen cow print jacket?

Recently we were in London, and we were staying not too far from a gay bar called The Stag. One evening we dropped by, and a drag queen named Bette Rinse (I don't get it either) was hosting a country-western variety show. I was happily watching the show and drinking my Hoegaarden, when Miss Rinse pulled out a black-and-white cow print leather-and-suede woman's jacket. She explained that this was from her own collection, and that she would be auctioning it off that evening for charity. I've never participated in an auction before, and I was a little sad that no one was stepping up to make an initial bid, so I started things off. Well, I got the bug, and my hand just kept flying up, as I suddenly and inexplicably became determined to win this thing. And--£45 later--I did win this thing. So there you have it: my first auction, and I win a London drag queen's leather cow print jacket, which I then get to haul around with me to Cambridge, Paris, and then back home. Here I am trying to work it like Bono might. My only consolation is that either I've supported a cancer research in London or a drag queen's speed habit; either way, I feel it amounts to a good cause.

And, no, that's not a sweater. I really am that hairy. Feast your eyes now, for I vow not to reveal any more of my bear-rug chest on this blog.