Negative Review

 Jim and I have planned an ambitious travel year. In the rush to make up for two and a half years of staying home (mostly), we’ve planned more trips than ever.

Last week was our East Coast trip. In one day we drove 960 miles: Lexington, MA, to Charleston, SC. Jim’s sister and her husband live there and since 2016, the year after David died, we’ve come to Charleston to stay with them and attend Spoleto Festival USA. It’s an immersion into the world of chamber music, opera, dance, and performance art.

Spoleto was cancelled in 2020 and last year Jim flew down on his own. I was deep into my garden: supervising Jim’s nephew Caleb and a teenaged gardener I’d hired to rebuild raised beds with granite pavers from the bottom of our driveway. While creating a new sidewalk in front of our house, workers uncovered them. How long ago was our street was paved in granite block?

This year at Spoleto, we attended a ballet performance that swept me away with the grace of a well-trained human body. We also saw a creative retelling of the classic Puccini opera La Boheme and several chamber concerts hosted by the inimitable Geoff Nuttall at the Dock St. Theater.

A concert featuring Stevie Wonder music had a last minute change when the tenor got sick. Johnny Felder, a local young man and opera chorus member, filled in and had us audience members eating out of his hands.

The day before our last chamber concert a violinist tested positive for covid, so at 11 p.m. the night before, Geoff asked a pianist friend of his what he could play. What we experienced was a breathtaking performance of a Brahms' Variations on a Theme by Handel (not to be confused with his Variations on a Theme by Haydn). Twenty-five variations and then a fugue: played masterfully with no sheet music.

I can’t begin to imagine the skill and talent such a feat requires.

Although I agreed to the crazy itinerary of a one-day 960-mile drive to Charleston, I decided that the ride back should be broken up. Thursday we drove a mere 633 miles. Truth be told, Jim did 85% of the driving that day. On his sister’s recommendation we stopped in Richmond. She had been charmed by the city years before. We walked along a cobblestone street and found City Dogs, a little grill with themed hot dogs, burgers, and Philly cheesesteaks.

After supper we wandered around trying to find the “Canal Walk”. After one dead end we found our way under the interstate and down some stairs to the canal. It was dark and deserted but we pressed on. Later, safe in our motel, we admitted to each other that we were grateful that our walk ended uneventfully.

After our Richmond evening, we checked into a motel in Short Pump, VA. I inexplicably love that name. It has an earthy down-to-earth tone to it. Named for a short pump (what’s a long pump?) under a tavern’s porch, it was on the Richmond Turnpike, which connected that city to Charlottesville, VA.

Our motel room prompted me to write my first negative review. (I have low standards: I’ve slept in my car on more than one occasion: a private bath is deluxe.) The fridge leaked onto the floor, the bathroom door was water-damaged and so swollen that it couldn’t be pushed closed. The kitchenette floor was sticky and the shower and bathtub wall wasn’t clean. But, as Jim said, philosophically, “I’ve seen worse.”

In 2001, we took our six kids, ages 10 to 20, to France, Italy, and the United Kingdom. I had booked rooms in a hotel in London for our first night there. All that night I wished I'd used a travel agent! I hardly slept. It was a three-story walk-up with a shared bathtub (yes, just a tub) which was filthy. The only positive was the price, but even my frugality was strained to breaking. We were definitely in a high crime area. The next day was Sunday and while the kids and I waited outside the Hyde Park Chapel, Jim sallied forth in search of better accommodations. He found a hotel within a row of charming hotels, each featuring an “English breakfast” of eggs, fatty sausage, and toast. It became a comfortable landing place during our London adventures.

Post-script: next morning in Short Pump, Jim gave the list of 'improvements needed' to the motel clerk. He received a 60% refund. I mentioned that in my review.

London Day Six

BTW, at breakfast they call them baked beans, but I can't see anything baked about them.

Errata: I left off a Roman numeral I. The Tower exhibit was about Henry VIII's armour.

Today we toured the "City of London," also known as the "Square Mile." Our guide, who is Cornish, was informative and witty, as they all have been. He clued us in early on that the correct answers are always: 1666 (the year), The Great Fire of London (the event), and Christopher Wren (the architect). In 1666 the Great Fire of London destroyed much of the city. This gave Christopher Wren an incredible opportunity to remake London in stone.
The original guilds in London were known as Livery Companies. They were given an order of precedence in 1515. Mercers (merchants) were first, followed by Grocers, Drapers (wool and cloth merchants), Fishmongers, and Goldsmiths. Taylors (tailors) and Skinners (fur traders) have always disputed their precedence, so each Easter they alternate positions. However, this probably is not where the phrase "at sixes and sevens" originates. We sat in a lovely churchyard garden which the Gardener Livery keeps up.
Speaking of fish mongers, Queen Elizabeth I decreed that her people must eat fish three times a week. This was to keep the ships in good working order and in the ready if war should break out.
On the tour we walked down Leadenhall Market, which was the set for Diagon Alley in the first Harry Potter movie. We also saw the Lloyd's of London building, which is atrocious. It reminds me of a distressed sea cucumber, which disembowels itself upon upset. Lloyd's innards are all on the outside fabric of the building.
Do you know what defines a Cockney? Anyone who is born within the sound of the bells of St. Mary le Bow Church. We heard the bells and lunched in the cafe in its crypt. The sausage sandwich with onion marmalade was wonderful and the cheddar sandwich with chutney just as good. Said crypt was built in the time of the Norman Conquest, late 11th century, and its subterranean arches give the church the name "le Bow." Before lunch, Jim got a much needed shoe shine from a fascinating young man. He is originally from Lille, France, went to University, and then moved to London about nine years ago.
We strolled Covent Gardens and heard a young opera singer in a courtyard below street level. On a double decker #15 bus, sitting above, of course, we rode past Picadilly Circus and onto Oxford St, past the Marble Arch and on to Sussex Garden, near Paddington Station, where our hotel is. I love living near Paddington Station. It always makes me think of my oldest brother, Steve, reading aloud to his young sons about the bear from darkest Peru.
In the evening we went to the Southbank Centre and heard a free talk and performance of two short works of Finnish composer Magnus Lindberg, followed by a concert of the Philharmonia Orchestra performing the UK premiere of Lindberg's Graffiti as well as Janacek's Synfonietta and Stravinsky's The Firebird. Janacek has been a favorite of ours since my orchestra performed it in 1992. This evening we were in the second row, right in front of the celli and basses. We had a great view of the conductor, Esa-Pekka Salonen (also Finnish), and the concertmaster, James Clark. We could see and hear and feel the energy and heart that each performer put into the concert. It was thrilling. During The Firebird, the lights flickered occasionally and actually went out while the orchestra was playing, which added to the effect of the music.
After the concert we went to Waterloo Station and found a Pasty Shoppe advertising hand-made Cornish pasties. I had a traditional beef and vegetable pasty and Jim had a cheese and mushroom croissant from the Delice de France booth. They were both very tasty. Taking the Bakerloo line, a delay was announced while we waited on the train in Charing Cross station. So, we left the tube and walked around Trafalgar Square, then took the 15 bus again, this time getting the coveted, at least by me, seats directly above the driver. Being up so high while the bus careens down the narrow streets of London, I can see the inspiration for the night bus in Harry Potter. It feels like the bus must shrink to fit in the space between cars.

London Day Four

On the subject of breakfast, I forgot to mention the beans in ketchup sauce we've had every morning. I've seen them on posters of "traditional English breakfast." Makes me think of The Treasure of the Sierra Madres: "Better eat those beans, boys!" I'll take Boston Baked Beans anyday.
Tuesday morning we took the tube to Waterloo Station. Another funny story from our guide: Churchill was planning his funeral and wanted the procession to go through the Waterloo Station. His advisors carefully pointed out that that wasn't the natural route to take. Yes, maintained Churchill, but De Gaulle would attend the funeral, and he just want to remind him once more of that moment in history.
We met our guide, Richard, at the Waterloo Station. The LED timetable boards are a symphony of efficiency. It would be very inefficient for me to describe, but it was a pleasure (we're easily amused) to watch a train route with all its stops flash up on the board at the far right and march slowly down to the left, receiving a platform assignment along the way.
We took the southwest train to Salisbury, a charming city on a small river. We strolled along the river to the cathedral, which was built consecrated in 1258, just 38 years after it was started. The 404 ft spire, which was added later, is the tallest in the United Kingdom. It is really beautiful. The cathedral has the world's oldest working clock and one of the four original copies of the Magna Carta. Quiz: where have you heard about another copy? Bing! Right here on this blog. So, we had to go look at the Salisbury copy. The docent was tickled, in an understated British way, when I said we'd seen the British Library copy. She talked with us quite a while. (There wasn't a crowd.) She had a photocopy of the British Library copy and pointed out that the Salisbury copy was done in a much more skilled hand. A tourist had once argued with her that it much be computer generated, it's so even. The ink used has iron in it, which actually etches into the parchment over time (written in 1215 AD). She also mentioned that the Licoln Cathedral had let its copy go on tour and hadn't been very careful about it (tut-tut) - a little cathedral rivalry going on there.
We lunched at the cathedral cafe where we looked up at a wonderful view of the spire.
We then took a "private motorcoach" on country lanes to Stonehenge. Passed by Sting's country house (whoever he is). Madonna had a honeymoon there. (I have heard of her.)
I'd read some disappointing reviews on the web about touring Stonehenge, but I was not disappointed. It is a marvel to see and thrilling to walk around. Maybe all of you knew this, but the stones are at least 50% longer than what you see above ground. Our guide has memories of family picnics at the stones. There's a flat stone that made a great picnic table. One doesn't get that close nowadays, but there are sample rocks near the gift shop that you can touch.
On the way back, we saw the hill that was the original site of the fort, the "Sarum." Market day was just ending when we arrived back in Salisbury, but a West Cornwall Pasties shop caught my eye, so we bought a chocolate pasty (I don't think that's a traditional pairing) to eat right away and a lamb and a bacon & cheese for supper at the hotel. They were delicious, and would have been even better hot, but we weren't hungry when we bought them. I had a recipe for Cornish pasties when we were first married, which I remember fondly. These were in a different league. They were light and flaky - a lot like an excellent croissant. (ed. note: on Wednesday we saw another West Cornwall Pasties kiosk at Marylebone Station, but we weren't hungry, again. But now we know we don't have to go all the way to Salisbury for fresh ones.)
Later in the evening, we walked from our hotel, which is just north of Hyde Park, to Park Crescent. My Little Black Book of London (The Quintessential Guide to the Royal Capital) states: "Outside Regent's Park Tube stop is one of the most breathtaking spots of London: Park Crescent--a semicircle of colonnades designed by John Nash." I'm glad we saw it, but it isn't nearly as breathtaking as Westminster Abbey, or Parliment, or the Tower of London. The walk took us through a neighborhood of shops with Arabic signage. London is so cosmopolitan. Much as I love Boston, it really is provincial. We are constantly overhearing and not understanding conversations in other languages here. It's invigorating.

London Day Three

I awoke to Jim's voice, "Mary, breakfast is over in 15 minutes!" We hadn't set an alarm and slept till 9:15 a.m. Breakfast was the same as yesterday: buffet style scramble eggs, sausage, corn flakes (Jim partook), canned fruit cocktail and juices. It strikes us as a "typical" American breakfast from 40 years ago. Except the sausage is different than anything I've eaten, and not in a particularly good way: fluffy, almost, a foam of fat, says Jim. But, breakfast comes with the room and starts our day off with warm tummies. We think we'll skip the sausage tomorrow.
We took a "londonwalks.com" tour of Westminster Abbey. Gillian, the tour guide was great: informative and witty. The Abbey is beautiful. The fan vaulting on the ceiling of the Lady's Chapel is incredible: lacey ribs that look like ladies' ball gowns swirling. Jim bought me a small book, "The Royal Line of Succession." It takes me back to my youth and love of all things historical and royal.
We walked across Westminster Bridge, right next to the Houses of Parliment, complete with a bagpiper. We recreated the scene from Hook when Toodles flies to Neverland at the end of the movie. Well, without the pixie dust.
Then we caught the 148 bus, one of the new double-deckers, and sat up above, of course. I watched for the premium front seats to free up, but they did only one at a time, so we continued to sit together and rode past Victoria Station and the back of Buckingham Palace Gardens, which was all stone wall and barbed wire and trees from the Grosvenor Place side. We skirted the north side of Hyde Park, got off at Notting Hill Gate, and found a Tesco grocery store. It was very centering for me to be in a real grocery store - it puts me in my element. We bought Cornish scones and rhubarb-vanilla yogurt. There were no shopping carriages, only plastic baskets, no parking lot, and no Russian speaking cashiers. (Hi, Sam!) After a few days in a hotel area, it was nice to find a place that sells bread and groceries.
Back outside on the streets, I was puzzling with my map when a friendly man asked if we needed help. He had a book in his hand about a musician's trip through the south and south west (Memphis, Amarillo, Phoenix, etc.) He directed us to Portobello Road. The market is only on Friday and Saturday, but we walked down the road with the haunting tune from "Bedknobs and Broomsticks," in our heads. In 2001 we were there on a market day and bought some British edition Harry Potter books. The facades were brightly colored stucco: pink and blue and yellow. They reminded me of St. Croix colors.
Looking for a place to sit down and eat our scones, I steered us to Pembridge Square, which had a wrought iron fence all around. I asked a passer-by how to get in. It's a private garden, it turns out. She offered to unlock the gate for us, "but how would you get out?" So, we chatted with her. She's Greek and came to Oxford about 25 years ago. She loves Notting Hill, but thinks it has gone to tourists too much and lost some of its charm.
The yogurt was mildly rhubarb, the scones were good, but, oh! for a microwave in our room! I don't know where we would fit it...

London Day Two

Verdi's Requiem was a wonderfully moving experience. When we got tickets, the Barbican was nearly sold out, so we got two seats right up against the stage. We had a great view of the cellists and bassists, the conductor, and the tenor and baritone soloists, but couldn't see the bottom half of the huge chorus on risers behind the orchestra. The sound was glorious. The baritone, Robert Hayward, was especially good. The Guildhall School of Music and Drama supplied the symphony orchestra and chorus.
Sunday morning we walked through Hyde Park and onto Exhibition Road to the LDS Hyde Park congregation. It's a wonderfully cosmopolitan group. They receive so many visitors that they just have the visitors stand briefly en masse, rather than elicit individual introductions. They say it gets really crowded in the summer.
After church, we strolled to the Victoria and Albert Museum. Right on the ground floor is the scuplture exhibit. They have an "Age of Bronze" by Auguste Rodin, which we saw in the Philadelphia Rodin Museum earlier this month, and several Rodin pieces that were new to us.
My favorite piece in the museum was a life-size terracotta sculpture of a seated peasant woman in wooden shoes nursing a baby by Aime-Jules Dalau (1838-1902). I found a photo by searching the V & A museum sculpture collection for "Aime-Jules." Try it! http://www.vam.ac.uk/collections/index.html
On our way back through Hyde Park we stopped at the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial fountain, which was full of children and adults wading. With a little (a lot?) of imagination, you can see it as a huge necklace made of moving water. It would be more effective as art without all the waders, but it's a pretty idea.
We also paid homage to the Peter Pan statue featured in one of my favorite movies, Hook, with Robin Williams as a grown-up, uptight Peter Pan and Dustin Hoffman as a marvelous James Hook. The statue is actually in the Kensington Gardens, next to the Serpentine. We thought of Lestrade dragging the Serpentine in Sherlock Holmes, but saw only small pleasure boats. And heard a lot of Spanish, presumably of the Continental variety.

London Day One

Virgin Atlantic Flight 12 left Boston Logan Airport at 7:45 p.m. on Friday, 25 September 2009 with Jim and me in seats 60J and 60K. We've taken our empty nest on the road. The flight was just under 7 hours, arriving around 8 a.m. London time. With our Oyster cards in hand(30 pds each for 7 days, unlimited Tube and bus rides), we took the Picadilly Line to the Circle Line and left our luggage at the hotel: Abbey Court near Paddington Station. We stayed here in July 2001 with our six children, then ages 10-20. The room is cozy, with a large sycamore tree outside our huge window.
I purposely didn't bring a camera. Mine's kinda clunky and doesn't take action shots. So, I'll just buy postcards along the way. For you blog followers, you'll have to use your imagination.
We toured King's Cross Station. A sign informed us that they'd moved Platform 9 3/4 due to renovation and directed us to its temporary location. When we visited in 2001, there was no brick wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10, so I wonder if this is a recent addition...It has the end of a luggage trolley bolted to the wall, so it looks like the trolley is entering Platform 9 3/4.
St. Pancras Station has a beautiful "glass-and-iron train shed, which for many years had the largest clear-span in the world." (TimeOut London, 2009 edition) Next to the station is the British Library, not to be confused with the British Museum, which housed the British Library until 1997.
A Parliamentary committee called the 1997 British Library "one of the ugliest buildings in the world" (ibid). Inside it the dimly lit John Ritblat Gallery houses an amazing collection of books and manuscripts, including Handel's hand-written Messiah score, a huge Gutenburg Bible, which was illumined by hand, a teenage journal of Jane Austen, a dictionary that Samuel Johnson created and two of the four existing copies of the Magna Carta. I was especially anxious to see those having heard that a copy of the Magna Carta has travelled to Fraunces Tavern in lower Manhattan. Samuel Johnson is one of Jim's favorites. He's been re-reading his biography by Boswell lately.
We bought some sandwiches and have settled in our rooms, trying desparately not to fall asleep, in order to acclimate quickly to the 5 hour time difference. Tonight it's Verdi's Requiem at the Barbican Centre. Hopefully that will be forte enough to keep us awake.