Friday, November 28, 2008
London
More details of the carnage in Bombay continued to surface through the night. I called my folks first thing this morning to get an update and spoke to my Dad who kept me abreast with the situation. I cannot believe that Llew and I stayed at the Taj Mahal Hotel in January this year when I led 22 Americans on a study tour of India. Leopold Cafe has intimate family connections for us as it is the restaurant in which my father proposed marriage to my mother so many decades ago. On the occasion of their Golden Wedding anniversary in 2004, my parents returned there with children and grandchildren to commemorate that proposal and to celebrate half a century together. The management had been especially kind and generous and upon discovering that my parents' were celebrating such a momentous occasion with their nearest and dearest family members, they provided a meal on the house to the entire party, much to my parents' bafflement and embarrassment.
All these thoughts went through my mind as I watched the calamity unfold on television and on the internet. The pain that I felt on seeing the beloved city of my birth ravaged with this kind of hatred and violence is hard to describe. We don't refer to the land of our birth as 'Motherland' for nothing. I have realized over the years that the longer one has been away from one's native land, the stronger grows the pull towards it for we are connected, as if by some invisible umbilical cord, to the country in which we took our first breath and that nurtured us to adulthood under its maternal protection. For that reason, Bombay will always occupy a sacred place in my heart and seeing her so savagely harmed was too hard to bear.
But I had to get on with my day and after I finished transcribing another one of my Anglo-Indian interviews and made some professional appointments for next week, I decided to go out and do some sightseeing. I am beginning to believe that the reason London has so many excellent museums is because it has so many really awful days to contend with--weather-wise. Each morning, I pull up my blinds and gaze at the skies trying to read the minds of the Weather Gods. Today, for instance, we had what I call a 'Black and White Day'--the kind of day on which the world looks like an image in a black and white photograph, i.e. robbed of all color by the absence of the sun. It is the perfect day to spend indoors and London has, fortunately, enough venues in which you can escape the cold and dampness and lose yourself in a world of happy contemplation and self-study.
I hopped into a bus going eastwards from Holborn and got off just outside the 'Old Lady of Threadneedle Street', aka The Bank of England. From there, I took Bus 133 which crossed London Bridge and took me to the Borough Market where I decided to browse around and taste food products offered by some of the country's best purveyors of all things delicious. To my disappointment, I discovered that the dealers do not take credit cards. I used the last few pounds I had on me to buy Greek delicacies for which I developed a taste in Greece--dolmades (pickled vine leaves stuffed with rice flavored with oregano and pine nuts) and feta cheese.
Then, I sampled the wares on offer from a number of super friendly vendors and that formed quite a filling assortment of appetisers--thank you very much. I particularly loved the aged Gruyere and the mature Irish cheddar being offered at one stall but the preserves and chutneys at another were just as divine. Pear and Vanilla Butter was tempting as was the Red Onion Marmalade and the Apple and Damson Chutney. I sampled a load of Turkish Delight stuffed with pistachios and chocolate covered orange rind being passed out rather generously by the keepers of a sweets stall. There was also a chimichuri sauce that was to die for being offered in a stall that also sold a marvelous dulce de leche caramel sauce. What else did I sample? Cold meats and a variety of pates, hot mulled wine (boy, was that good on this freezing day!), superb basil pesto brimming over with parmesan cheese, olive tapenade and a variety of honey--such as orange blossom honey and heather honey. All these goodies sustained me until I took Bus 133 and sailed off once again to Kennington--a part of London's South Bank which I have never before seen and arrived at the Oval Cricket Grounds. From here, I took Bus 88 that carried me across the Vauxhall bridge to Millbank, another part of the Thames Embankment, from where I walked a few blocks to the Tate Britain.
It has been a long time since I visited the Tate. When I was last there, 22 years ago, as a graduate student visiting London for the first time, I had spent a great deal of time contemplating the series of pastels by William Blake that had been his accompanying illustrations for his Songs of Innocence and Experience. That, and a handful of Turners was all I remembered of the museum. I was glad to have the opportunity to study the collection again. But it was cold and the drizzle had been continuous all day, so I headed straight to the large basement cafe for a hot pot of Earl Grey and a sultana scone which I enjoyed with clotted cream and strawberry jam. This is British comfort food, to be sure, and I relished every crumb and savored every drop.
If I have to look on the bright side of my foot affliction, it is to cherish the quiet contemplative moments I have on my own in-between sight seeing when I sit back to rest my feet. I no longer find myself tearing from one sight to the next as I have done over the years. I have slowed down considerably because my physical condition no longer allows me to rush. But, I have realised that as a result of going at a more leisurely pace, I now have the time to people-watch and to look over everything that I am seeing and doing without feeling pressured in any way to cover everything. And perhaps that is the one good thing that has come out of my ailment.
Anyway, after I had rested sufficiently, I began my perusal of the Tate's permanent collection. Tate Britain is not as large or crowded as the National Gallery but it's collection is no less impressive. True, its works are not as well known as those in the National either, but if the viewer is interested in seeing lesser-known canvasses by British Masters of the medium, this is the place to go. I started at the beginning with the Tudors and Stuarts and worked my way chronologically to Modernism. En route, I saw two truly stunning and rarely seen works: the 1898 canvas entitled The Sleep of Arthur in Avalon by Edward Burne-Jones and the exquisite Flaming June by fellow Pre-Raphaelite Frederick Leighton, both in a private collection in Puerto Rico and currently on loan to the Tate.
I also saw the Tate's newest and proudest recent acquisition: the original sketch by Peter Paul Reubens of the main medallion entitled The Apotheosis of James I for the ceiling of the Banqueting Hall which Llew and I had visited just two weeks ago. Purchased at the cost of 7 million pounds, this small sketch, an early study in oil on canvas, is remarkable for it shows how clear was Reubens' vision even at the very beginning when he first received the commission for what became the spectacular ceiling.
I was also delighted to see Millais' Ophelia which has returned to the Tate after a very long time. On the other hand, I was disappointed to discover that The Lady of Shallott by John William Waterhouse has temporarily left the Tate and will only return next June--darn! It was also a treat to see so many variations on Willy Lott's farmhouse on the River Stour in Suffolk in John Constables many paintings as well as a marvelous clutch of smaller canvasses by Turner. I felt so enlightened and edified by my visit and by the pace at which I was able to view the works on display. In fact, I only finished 17 of the 28 rooms and shall make a return visit to see the more contemporary of the works on another occasion.
Another lovely bus ride took me back home, still through streaming window panes on the upper deck. I am struck at the assurance with which I am able to get from one part of London to the next using the buses. It is only unfortunate that on a couple of occasions, I have taken the bus going in the opposite direction. But, hey, no harm no foul. With my bus pass, all I do is hop off and catch the same bus from the opposite side of the road and I'm back on track again.
I think that what is best about my time here in London is the fact that I have so much of it for myself. It's so nice to know that I live in the heart of the city and never have to hurry back to the Tube for fear of having to make a long journey into the distant suburbs when the trains or the buses are empty--a matter that always inhibited me from staying out after nightfall on my visits in the past. It is comforting to know that I can get back home in less than a half hour no matter where I am. I am also pleased at the way I am juggling duty and pleasure so that each day is filled with productive professional activity while also including some of the more pleasurable things on my list of Things to See and Do.
The Borough Market and the Tate Britain fall in the latter category and I guess I can now tick those off my list and move on!
No comments:
Post a Comment