Don't meet me on the El-Train

Chicago is wonderful. Really, really wonderful (more, plus photos, to come). But O'Hare is really far away from the heart of the city.

Early this morning I left the B&B I'd been staying at and took the elevated-train (subway/LRT) to Chicago O'Hare airport with a friend of mine who was on the same flight. We were leaving from just north of downtown, so took the Red Line down and transferred onto the Blue Line, which is the only line that goes to O'Hare. On the way in, it had taken me an hour to get in on train and I expected something similiar. All was going well until an announcement that due to construction on the tracks, the Blue Line train ended at Belmont Station, we'd have to disembark and take a shuttel to Addison and Irving Park stations. At Irving Park we could board another train to continue on. So we got off, went on a bus, saw more parts of Chicago, and finally got back onto a fuller, lurchier train.

The delay was due to construction to enable the train to go faster than 15mph on the tracks. How slow is 15 mph? On that part of the Blue Line, the tracks are placed in the middle of what looks like the interstate highway—four lines on each side. At one point, I looked outside, and realized that cars were passing us. Easily.

Construction is scheduled to be finished Dec. 2008, at which point all parts of the Blue Line track from O'Hare to downtown should have top speeds of 55 mph. And oh yeah, the trip out took 1.5 hours in all, and that's not counting the 2o minute walk through O'Hare. It felt like I had already gone on a long trip before even getting on the plane.

London: in pictures

I am blogging from a National Express East Coast train travelling from London to Edinburgh. Is it a sign of crappy Canadian wireless that I'm shocked to discover free wireless anywhere (Edmonton airport, for example), much less on a mode of travel? I'm totally plugged in to my seat: power cable, charging cell phone (through USB port) and earphones to block out the two groups of chatty people in front of me. (In honor of this train's ultimate destination, I'm listening to the Glaswegian band Travis). My total isolation from the world would be an affront to Nicole if she wasn't in another train car altogether.

I am heading to the Edinburgh Fringe after a lovely few days in London which I spent wandering around. Nicole and I saw and giggled at this tavern:

I stumbled around Picadilly and found 10 Henrietta Street, the house where Jane Austen's brother lived and where she would stay when visiting London.

We went to a beer festival where Nicole's friends won a cute little stuffed ram. And where we sampled beer from many different places (alas, no Canadian beers were present).

I saw a Banksy:

And, in a nod to the second chapter of my dissertation, I wandered around Portman Square. It's only 2-3 blocks from Oxford Street (a major shopping drag) and the exteriors have been mostly redone or demolished. On one side it looks like a Metropolitan police office, on another it's a hotel (the Churchill), on the third it's businesses and the fourth converted flats and a private club. The private club is at No. 20 and is historically relevant to my work, being designed by Robert Adam. Alas, I couldn't get up the nerve to knock and see if I could walk around.

Yesterday I took the bus to Greenwich (technically still in London) where I saw the gorgeous buildings of the Royal Naval College

and the Maritime Museum


and the Queen's House, which features an absolutely beautiful spiral staircase designed by Inigo Jones in the early 1600s.




A short walk up the hill behind the Queen's house led to the Royal Observatory, a place of major astronomical import and, for better known purposes, the home of Greenwich Mean Time and the Prime Meridian.

That silver line that I'm standing on? Zero degrees longitude, baby.

Next up, the Edinbrugh Fringe, for which I have done no planning except to have Nicole secure accommodations. The Fringe program is as dauntingly thick as a Sears catalogue and I've barely gone through 1/4 of it.

Ottawa

At the end of the summer, at the Fringe Fest, I won a free flight with Westjet. Due to restrictions and fine print and my tight schedule, the only time I could really take advantage was over the short November Reading break. And so, I went to Ottawa to visit Rutha and some relatives.


After a very early flight, I arrived in our fair capital hungry and tired. After a nap, tea and a snack, Rutha and I went to a lovely and very decadent Sicilian-themed dinner.

If I look a little flushed in the photo, well, that glass of wine I'm holding didn't drink itself. Oh, and this was dessert:


A little cannoli on the left and a cassata (almond pastry filled with riccota and chocolate) on the right. Soooo much sugar.... Until dessert, everyone had been getting full and mellow. But afterwards there was silliness and Sicilians spontaneously singing.

On a more somber note, the next day (Nov. 11) we went to the Remembrance Day ceremonies at the National War Memorial. The weather was beautiful and as a result the crowd was huge. If you look closely at this photo you can kind of see what's going on at the memorial. Kind of.

It was a little odd to finally "see" an event in person that I had watched many times on television, most notably because I couldn't see anything except a giant TV screen that had been set up. So despite the fact that I was "there", I still watched most of it on TV (at an angle) without clearly hearing the sounds of the ceremony. As a result, the effect of the somber occasion was bit muted.

Most of the time in Ottawa was spent just hanging out (shopping, lots of coffee) rather than seeing things, since I've been to Ottawa several times before. So we walked around the Glebe area, went shopping in the market, and I walked along the canal:


I then spent a couple of days with family, whose lovely company was enhanced with what seemed to be an endless supply of chocolate and a seriously cute three-and-a-half-year-old who never stops talking. Oh, to be young and verbal.

Advantages to living in Alberta

The chance to take photos like this one:


More photos here.

Torrington to Gopher: Get Stuffed!

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A: To show the gopher that it could be done.


Today Anna and I went to Torrington to see the World Famous Torrington Gopher Hole Museum. About an hour's drive north from Calgary city limits, the tiny town of Torrington boasts a little museum filled with little exhibits: taxidermied gophers, dressed and posed in dioramas depicting different aspects of town life.


It sounds a little creepy, but nothing cutes up stuffed Richardson's ground squirrels quite like costumes and well-painted dioramas. And it was busy—at least five different groups went through the museum in the 30-40 minutes that we were there. At $2 per adult and $0.50 per child that doesn't seem like much, but it must add up. A map in the gift shop showed where visitors had come from, including all over Europe, China, and even Iceland.


When the museum was first conceived, an animal rights lobby group found out and started a letter writing protest campaign (clearly PETA doesn't understand that gophers are the opposite of endangered). The museum has a binder full of hate mail from as far away as the UK and Japan, including a drawing of a hand with the middle finger raised and a missive asking the mayor how he'd feel if he were to be stuffed for a "Mayor Museum." I think the funniest ones were people asking why the town couldn't just use readily available fake models in the dioramas. While using fake gophers would certainly diminish the impact of the museum, it made me wonder what countries/states/provinces sold stuffed toy gophers to begin with. The most boring letter was actually the one from PETA, which asked why the museum couldn't feature live gophers and educational displays for children. The obvious answer: where's the fun in that? The binder also contained encouraging letters, many of which were from rural areas in Canada and the US.

After Torrington, we drove to Olds and found the botanical gardens on the Olds College campus, where we saw pretty flowers.


More gopher photos here, many of which are worth seeing, though that's certainly not all of the roughly 40 displays. A few more photos from Olds here.

Lyme Regis: video

I've finally put up the best video I took on my trip.

The shore of Lyme Regis is quite rocky (what with all the fossils in it and all). The sound of the waves dragging the stones back and forth on the seashore is pretty neat.

List: London by the numbers

Times I've been asked for directions: 3 (once on the street, twice on the tube)

Cost of replacing ID lost when purse was stolen: $90 so far ($15 for U of A ID, $75 for Canadian Citizenship card)

Cost of requesting copy of police report for insurance purposes: £10 (not yet done)

Houses visited: 7 (Osterley, Syon, Kenwood, Chiswick, Strawberry Hill, Johnson's, Franklin's); 8 if you count Jane Austen's

Archives/Libraries visited: 2 (Soane's, Geffrye)

Tube lines taken: 8 (Jubliee, Picadilly, Victoria, Northern, Central, Bakerloo, District, Metropolitan)

Bookshops visited: 11 (seven on Charing Cross Road, one in Charmouth, one in West Hampstead, one in Notting Hill, and the book stalls on the South bank in front of the BFI)

Pints consumed: uh...

Hours spent with Nicole: uh...

Hours spent consuming pints with Nicole: ...

Total days spent in UK: 23 (April 25–May 16)

Total days lived in new apartment before leaving for the UK: 24 (April 1–24)

Hours of flight home: 9

Last days in London: May 13-15

Last days in London have been spent mostly playing tourist and going to museums and whatnot (how much do I love the Tate Modern?)

On Sunday (May 13) I made it to one more house, Horace Walpole's Strawberry Hill House in Strawberry Hill, Twickenham, a western suburb of London. The house is an odd mixture of 18th century gothic and Victorian features due to the extensive renovations/additions of one of the inheritors. The house is about to close for a couple of years to undergo an extensive £8 million restoration back to its 18th century incarnation. It will be interesting to see how it looks afterwards.


Monday I went to the Tate Modern and walked down the South bank. Today I indulged my morbid side and went to the Hunterian Museum at the Royal College of Surgeons. Yes there were many specimens in embalming fluid. Also, 18th century criminal Jonathan Wild's skeleton. Tonight I'm going to see a late show at the National Film Theatre. And then tomorrow morning I get up early and head to Heathrow and fly home.

As is probably evident from the brevity of this post, I am ready to be home. London is great but I'd like to sleep in my own bed again and stop living out of a suitcase. Also, London has been rainy and windy (my umbrella is bent out of shape) for the last week. A little prairie sunshine would be nice.

More London: May 8-12

The last week has been more blurry and less eventful and I'm a bit fatigued, so here's a short recap of what I've been up to:

Tues., May 8: Spent the day at the Geffrye Museum looking through their drawings collection of late 18th and early 19th century interiors. Took copious notes which I am still in the process of typing up. Yay work.

Tuesday night I saw a play, Landscape with Weapon, with Nicole and Bowerman at the National Theatre. It's a play about a man who invents a weapon of mass destruction, set in the present-day post-Iraq Britain. I was a little afraid that it would be a polemic but it was very good. The acting was fantastic—the lead was played by Tom Hollander, who played Mr. Collins in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice adaptation. His character is nothing like Collins. Yay theatre!

Wed., May 9: Wandered up Charing Cross Road and bought some books. No worries; my suitcase expands. Yay books!

Thurs., May 10: Wandered around London some more. Went to Samuel Johnson's house,

had late lunch in Chinatown (dim sum), and experienced the interactive tour at Benjamin Franklin's house. Johnson's house isn't a preserved interior, but it was useful to see the architectural layout of an urban house in the 18th century. The neatest thing about it were the huge panels that swung out on the first floor, closing the two side rooms off from the landing. (More photos here.)

The Franklin house is a new attraction to London, having only opened in January of last year. When I say that the tour was "interactive", I mean that an actress was our guide. She stayed in character the entire time, and the rooms we saw had been equipped with state of the art projectors and hidden speakers so that we could hear other people talking (as if they too were in the room) and see relevant images and the walls. There are no furnishings or anything, through structurally the house has some original 18th century features (panelled walls, fireplaces) and is appropriately narrow. The tour itself is fine if you can overcome any antipathy towards historical reenactments; unfortunately, I could not. It was especially disconcerting when the actress had conversations with the voices in the room.

Thursday night I saw a musical, Avenue Q, at the West End, at the Noel Coward Theatre. It was a big, entertaining spectacle with good music and, well, puppets. Think of it as the anti-Seasame Street. When the opening number is titled "It Sucks to Be Me" and one of the highlights is the song "The Internet is for Porn", you know that you can't bring kids into this show. (I just suddenly realized that typing out the title of the previous song might make this post turn up in untoward Google searches. Great.)

Fri., May 11: I went shopping on the main commerical drag, Oxford St. I didn't buy very much (something for my sister, a replacement wallet for me) but I did check out the Kate Moss collection as TopShop. My verdict? It's a little ass. Coloured denim skinny jeans and hot pants? No thank you. However, many Londoners disagree with me; the Kate Moss section was the busiest by far. Upcoming trends for summer, if Oxford Street is to be trusted: big, puffy ankle length summer dresses and mini-dress length tops that must be worn with leggings or skinny jeans, and flat ballet slippers. (Do NOT get me started on the rounded toe).

Sat., May 12: Headed down to Portobello Road Market and wandered along the street. It's been rainy all week, but it didn't really start pouring until I was about to leave. The market is lots of fun; the fresh fruit and vegetable stalls are colourful and very tempting. Afterwards I went to see a Guy Maddin movie Careful at the Institute of Contemporary Art. I know it's a little odd to be watching an avant garde Canadian movie when I'm in London, but this was only the second time I've ever had a chance to see one of Maddin's films on a big screen and I didn't want to pass it up.

Overall, the week has been less photo-heavy because I've been to fewer houses and gardens. It's also been rainy all week, which is a touch depressing. I do miss home, my own space and all, so I'll be happy to go back to Edmonton. If anyone wants me to bring them anything from London, tough. I'm a strict budget (blew it all at the seaside playing VLTs) and what I have left is going to beer. (Just kidding. About the VLTs, I mean.)

Lyme Regis (May 5-7)

The party from Uppercross passing down by the now deserted and melancholy-looking rooms, and still descending, soon found themselves on the seashore; and lingering only, as all must linger and gaze on a first return to the sea, who ever deserve to look on it at all, proceeded towards the Cobb...

– Jane Austen, Persuasion

Lyme Regis is beautiful. It's a little seaside town that used to be a major port, and was only a port because of the Cobb, a man made harbour that consists of two "arms" of stone (one much bigger and longer than the other) jutting out into the sea. Lyme Regis was a part of the tour because a significant part of Austen's novel Persuasion occurs at Lyme Regis. Also, I wanted to deserve gaze and gaze upon the sea as well. It was worth it.

We arrived in the evening and after finding our B&B, headed down the beach for dinner. Lyme Regis at dusk seems particularly pretty:


The next morning we went to the Cobb. It really is a huge stone structure with uneven (and slanted) surfaces that are slippery when wet. Neil, who I'm lodging with, mentioned that every year, at least one or two people get swept off the Cobb in particularly bad weather. I was grateful that the weather was nice.


The east side of the Cobb (pictured above) is the "outside" of the harbour, and the waters are noticeably choppier than the water on the other side. Nicole and I walked all the way to the end.


Walking the Cobb is a little scary because it is a bit tilted and if you slip off, there's no lifeguard (it's the damn ocean). But it's exhilerating to be that far out in the ocean. The wind is really strong, according to Nicole it smells salty, and everything feels fresh. The views are also spectacular—not just of the ocean, but also of the coast. It was beautiful.

While on the Cobb, we couldn't resist taking a photo of me "falling" off the stair s, à la Louisa Musgrove. And yes, that is a Jane Austen reference. Neither of us actually fell and broke our heads when Capt. Wentworth failed to catch us, though.


It was also a minor miracle that neither Nicole or I twisted or sprained our ankles, because that afternoon we decided to walk the beach (at low tide) from Lyme to the neighbouring village of Charmouth, and the walk itself was literally a bit rocky.


The scenery is just breathtaking. Needless to say, though the walk took us an hour and half, we stopped to take a lot of photos. By the time we reached Charmouth, we were tired and took the bus back to Lyme instead.


The next morning, our last morning, dawned drizzly. Nonetheless, we walked out to the Cobb one last time. It was not as welcoming as it had been the day before:


But we still walked to the end. The waves were huge and coming up on top of the Cobb. A woman walking behind us got totally soaked by one wave.

Generally, Lyme was really fun, though I was really sick of potatoes by the end of the trip. I'm not sure why, but the English really like their potato-based sidedishes. It's not whether you want fries (I mean, "chips"), rice or a salad with your fish, it's whether you want chips or a baked potato (which then leads to the question of how you would like your "jacket potato"?). Even if you get the vegetables, there are definitely going to be potatoes.

Overall it was a really, really fun trip. If anyone ever wants to go to Lyme, I'll give you the contact info for our nice B&B (which served breakfast on a trolley that we rolled into the room! And which had a "Turbo Toilet" that sounded like the angriest toilet in the world when flushed) and a list of places to go. We did neglect the museums and whatnot, but who can compete with a view like this?

Many many many more photos from Lyme here (don't say I didn't warn you about the "many").

Jane Austen Tour: Chawton and Winchester (May 5)

This past weekend was a long weekend in the UK, so my friend Nicole and I embarked on a Jane Austen tour of England. Stops included: Chawton Cottage, where Austen spent the last eight years of her life and where she wrote or revised all of her novels; Winchester Cathedral, where she is buried; and Lyme Regis, where a significant part of her novel Persuasion takes place. We'd both already been to Bath (another important stop) so we skipped that, which was for the best because the itinerary was already full.

First stop, Jane Austen's House at Chawton Cottage. Austen moved here in 1809 and lived here until she died in 1817. Despite being called a cottage, it's more like a solid red brick house.

View from the front:


Austen's house from the side:


Though it is called a house and museum, the "musuem" part is a little suspect. It was more like a simulacrum of a museum, in which objects that were marginally or potentially related to Austen were displayed. You can see, for example, copies of Austen's letters mounted on the wall, a tea set that the family would have used in the time period, a dining table that was in the Chawton Great House that was never in the cottage while Austen lived there, a faded lock of her father's hair, a copy of a contemporary watercolour of Austen's childhood home Steventon, and, for a few months only, costumes worn by the actors in that other piece of Austen simulacrum, Becoming Jane.

I knew that no educational value would be gleaned by going to the house. The trip was indeed a pilgrimage more than anything else. Because house itself was converted to flats in the 19th century before being bought after WWII and restored, it's difficult to know how close the building resembles its early 19th century incarnation. Nonetheless, it was still meaningful to walk through the same physical space that Austen did. To think: I have occupied the same coordinates in space as Jane Austen, time (200 years) notwithstanding.

From Chawton we cabbed it back to Alton and took a bus to Winchester (yes, logistics were tough on this trip) to see where Austen is buried. Winchester is a very pretty town and we caught a bit of the local market, which included loud flowersellers and really fresh strawberries, while there (roses were reduced from £5 to £4! That's 20% off!). After a short coffee break, we headed to Winchester Cathedral:


And saw Jane Austen's final resting place:


For those who care, here's what it says:

In Memory of
JANE AUSTEN,
youngest daughter of the late
Rev. GEORGE AUSTEN,
formerly rector of Steventon in this county.
She departed this Life on the 18th of July 1817,
aged 41, after a long illness supported with
the patience and the hopes of a Christian.

The benevolence of her heart,
the sweetness of her temper
and the extraordinary endowments of her mind
obtained the regard of all who knew her, and
the warmest love of her intimate connections.

Their grief is in proportion to their affection
they know their loss to be irreparable,
but in their deepest afflication they are consoled
by a firm but humble hope that her charity,
devotion, faith and purity have rendered
her soul acceptable in the sight of her
REDEEMER.

We quietly sat there for a few minutes, but time was of the essence so we didn't stay long. We made it to the train station with mere minutes to spare (and after buying tickets, pretty much seconds to spare) and took the train to Lyme Regis, which will definitely be another post. More photos of Chawton and Winchester here, and Nicole's insightful report (she is a journalist, after all) is here.

Jane Austen: The Portrait

Fri. May 4: The Portrait

The first time I visited London five years ago, one thing I really wanted to do was go to the National Portrait Gallery and see the watercolour and pencil sketch of Jane Austen that's there. I was staying in Oxford at the time so I made day trips into London. When I arrived at the National Portrait Gallery, I looked at the floor plan to figure out where she was, took the escalator up, wandered through the rooms, and was greeted with a sign stating that the 18th century collection was currently touring America. Damn colony, always stirring up trouble.

Today, then, I went to the National Gallery and took a guided tour, and afterwards popped around the corner (of Trafalgar Square!) to see Jane Austen. I was on a mission and tried not to get distracted by the portraits of other familiar names (Samuel Johnson! Robert Adam! Addison! Steele!). Ironically, in my purposeful search through the gallery, I actually missed the portrait the first time through.


It's small. I've seen reproductions of the portrait, of course, but the actual sketch is the size of a small postcard and it's placed in an oval frame, making it even smaller. The portrait is mounted under glass in its own display case rather than on the wall (which is why I missed it). It is rather out of place amidst much bigger portraits of other artists like John Keats and Samuel Coleridge (yes, it is housed in the Romantics room even though Austen was not a Romantic; no, don't get me started). And rather than being painted by a professional portrait painter, Austen's portrait (a sketch, really) was painted by an amateur, her sister Cassandra.

What struck me the most about the painting, which I had never quite noticed before, is how she's holding herself, or rather, how she's not. She seems to be leaning back in the chair a little bit, slumped, with her arms crossed in resignation. As a pose, it's rather... modern. Unrefined. Certainly informal, unlike all the other portraits in the surrounding galleries. Fast forward a century and one imagines that the pose would fit into the Bloomsbury group or Dorothy Parker's circle—all she's missing is a cigarette in one hand.

Do I think that's what she looked like? I think it's a partial likeness. What I like about this portrait, though, which all the subsequent "improvements" erase, is the sense of character and personality that comes through in her expression and body language. The woman in the portrait is a little wary of the world, is literally observing it askance. That pleases me very much.

Posted: late Friday, May 4, when I should be sleeping.

London: May 2-3

A little blog catch up today as I prep for the long weekend here, which will consist of me and Nicole embarking on a trip to Jane Austen's cottage in Chawton, her grave in Winchester, and Lyme Regis, where a significant (in both senses of the word) portion of Persuasion takes place.

Wed., May 2: I take advantage of further nice weather and go to yet another semi-rural house in the western suburbs, Chiswick.


Chiswick is notable because it was designed and built by Lord Burlington, and was one of the properties the great 18th century poet Alexander Pope had in mind in his Epistle to Burlington (okay, yeah, that's geeky, but this is a research trip). The building is from an early period of 18th century architecture, Palladian, way before Robert Adam's time. The interiors are much heavier than Adam's. The ceilings are heavily decorated, but unlike Adam's light reliefs at, for example, the library ceiling at Kenwood, the ceilings at Chiswick have panels a foot high, or, in the case of the blue velvet room, brackets at least a metre high. It gave me a much better appreciation of what people meant when they said that Adam's style was lighter and flatter that what came before. A few more Chiswick photos here. No interiors, again, but I'm quite pleased with a couple of the exterior shots.

Thursday (May 3) I went to the Sir John Soane's Museum of Architecture and sat in its library, reading books on architecture. I also flipped through a full-sized, folio copy of Robert and James Adam's Works in Architecture. It was incredibly useful just to see the plates at full size, since no detail is lost. During the lunch break, I ate lunch in one of the fields that comprises Lincoln's Inn Fields, which was pretty cool.

And yeah, and after never getting around to it in Edmonton, I finally saw The Lives of Others in London (go figure). It's very very good and I would recommend it.

Posted 12:22 p.m. Fri., May 4, London

Hampstead Heath: tanned

I am coming back from England with a tan. This is due in part to the unseasonably warm and sunny weather and also in part to my questionable decision today to walk all the way from West Hampstead to Kenwood House, at the far end of Hampstead Heath. Adding about 10 extra minutes from getting lost, the walk took me about an hour.


After going through Kenwood House I checked out its backyard,


sat down, freed my toes


and ate my lunch in the sunshine. I then explored the Heath (which is huge and green and lovely) and took the bus home. A few more photos of Kenwood here.

In other news, the music/DVD stores here are way cooler than the ones at home. Stupid Region 2 coding and lack of money.

Posted 12:40 a.m., 2 May 2007 in London

London so far (April 25-April 29)

The trip so far has been rather eventful. I'm taking it easy today to catch up on notes and photos, and this blog. Better now than trying to remember it all when I get back home.

Wed., Apriil 25: Arrive, get to lodgings in West Hampstead, get basics estabished, meet Nicole to see Becoming Jane, have a pint. Go home exhausted. My quick movie review here.

Thurs., April 26: Still jetlagged, decide to have a "light" day at the Victoria and Albert museum. See their standing architecture gallery, a small exhibition on James "Athenian" Stuart (a minor 18th century architect), and the miniatures gallery. Then decide to stay for lunch and see the Surreal Things exhibit, which is interesting, though its film component is disappointing because it fails to provide context and there is no designated space to sit and watch the clips–they're just projected over the "Surrealism and the Body" room.
Decide I can live without seeing the V&A's Kylie Minogue exhibit. Am proved correct.

Fri., April 27: No more jetlag. Head to Osterley Park,

where I find out I'm not allowed to photograph the interior. I buy the illustrated guide to deal with the disappointment. Osterley has amazingly preserved 18th century interiors, including original carpets and furniture. The attention to detail is overwhelming, as is the thought that the mouldings and friezes on the walls were all done by hand. More Osterley photos (exteriors only, dammit) here.

Friday night I head out with Nicole and calamity befalls me. Well, not really. I must admit that I was rather calm about the theft, for two reasons: 1. I hadn't lost my most important possessions (camera, passport, cash, laptop) and 2. I'd already drank two pints of beer, making me pretty sedate.

Sat., April 28: Hogarth Exhibition at the Tate Britain. I had been looking forward to this comprehensive exhibit of a major 18th century artist (painter, engraver) since I booked my trip back in January. The original plan was to go with Nicole, which is why I waited until the second-last day to head down, but Nicole couldn't make it so I went by myself.

The gallery was packed with people trying to get into the exhibit, but with a Tate Membership card, I got to walk right in (and for free!). Seeing pictoral series of The Harlot's Progress, The Rake's Progress, and Marriage à la Mode was a treat. The paintings are a lot bigger than any reproductions in anthologies, meaning I could make out more detail. It was also useful to see the two painted series (Rake and Marriage) in colour. The exhibit also featured works by Hogarth's contemporaries, including two of Joseph Highmore's Scenes from Pamela paintings, a fact which I think only Karine will appreciate.

Sun., April 29: Syon Park with Nicole. Again, no interior photos allowed and again, I bought the illustrated guide. Stunning interiors, particularly the rooms designed by 18th century architect Robert Adam.


What is there to say about an architect and designer who thinks through every detail of a room, including the furniture, carpetting and ceiling? One of the best details was a hidden door at one end of the Long Gallery, which led outside. Spines of books were actually put on the door to make it blend it with the bookshelf around it. I feel bad for the books, but marvel at the ingenuity. More photos of Syon's grounds here.

After Syon, Nicole and I took the Tube into town and had a late lunch at Hyde Park (yes, my life is good). It was a beautiful day in London and hundreds of people were hanging out, reading, rollerblading, biking. After lunch (and caffeine) we braved Oxford Street, the shopping district, to find me a replacement bag at Primark.

The store (think H&M in trendiness and price range), which had been open only about two weeks, was madness. It took us five minutes to find the bag and at least 15 to line up and pay for it. The trouble was worth it, because the bag cost only £2.50, which was about all I was willing to pay for a replacement. It's made of cloth and quite spacious, as the umbrella indicates.

Today, I am tired. Organizing stuff for later this week, including making appointments to visit museum collections. Don't want to wear myself out, though, since I still have over two weeks left. If you have read this far, good for you. Thanks.

Welcome to London. Not.

My third night in London and the following two crappy things happen:

1. My purse is stolen at a pub on the South bank.
2. As Nicole, her friend Iain and I leave the pub to find a police station to report the theft, Nicole receives a call from a flatmate. Turns out her flat has been broken into and pretty much ransacked the same night. It was an unfortunate coincidence.

I have cancelled my credit cards and my bank card. Luckily, I do not carry my passport out with me and most of my cash was in my room where I'm staying, though I'm out £40 and $30Cdn, which I might be able to get back from insurance. I was quite pissed to lose my 7-day Tube/Rail/Bus pass, which still had four days on it, and my ISIC card, which I went to a lot of trouble to get. I will also have to replace my university ID once I get home. I've spent the last 22 hours day mentally running through the contents of my purse, trying to figure out what I'm missing. Nat and Daorcey, the nice little notebook you gave me for my birthday was a casualty. Unfortunately, it also had some notes from a house I'd visited earlier that day that I had not yet transcribed to my computer. I also lost my house keys (for both here and Edmonton), but luckily someone in Edmonton has a spare set.

Otherwise, it has been a good trip so far, though it took me a while to get over the jetlag. Thursday I went to the Victoria & Albert museum (thought I'd take it easy), Friday I went to Osterley (I just realized that the photo on that webpage is of the back of the house!) and today I saw the Hogarth Exhibition at the Tate Britain. As I left this afternoon to see the exhibition, which I've been looking forward to for weeks, I must admit that I felt kind of naked without a bag of any kind.

Also, last night I learned that in Britain, "purse" means "wallet" while "handbag" indicates what Canadians would call a "purse." Something new everyday.

Posted 8:26 p.m. GMT

My (half) day at the Passport Office

My passport expires April 12 and my research trip to England starts April 25. I've been dreading braving the long lines at the passport office for a while now but had to go before the wait got too long. I finally got all my documents together and armed with knowledge from a friend of a friend who works in the same building, planned an early and long day. Neither turned out to be true.

7 a.m.: Alarm clock goes off
7:15 a.m.: Get up
8:00 a.m.: Catch bus downtown, and then walk to Canada Place, home of government offices
8:10 a.m.: Am one block away from government offices when I realize that I do not have my current passport with me. Must have current passport. Turn around to catch bus home.
8:20: Surprised I am not crying or berating myself for being forgetful. Opt instead to be philosophical. Specifically, stoic. Stoic stoic stoic.
9 a.m.: arrive at Canada Place, finally.
9:05: Find the end of the line, which has snaked around the atrium inside. Thankful that I don't have to wait outside.
9:06: Strike up conversation with lady in line in front of me, who (along with her husband) needs a passport to go to Taiwan for her son's wedding reception. I learn that to travel to China, you need a passport that's valid for at least six months after the trip.
9:10–11:42: Wait. Chat with neighbours in line. We all keep an eye on a woman in line across the hall with her son, charting our progress by hers. We also calculate that once we get into the office proper, it's still a two-hour wait, minimum.
11:42 a.m.: Enter Passport Office. Go into pre-screening line.
11:48 a.m.: Get pre-screened. Am giving a number starting with "C", a result of having filled out my application online and printed it out. My number is C73. When I find a spot to wait and check out the electronic signs above the wickets, I see that C72 (along with A116 and B08) are currently being served.
11:53 a.m.: I am served at wicket #5. My application goes through and I pay a lot of money.
11:59 a.m.: I'm done! I'm actually done!
12:00 p.m.: I walk to the bus stop and hear church bells tolling noon.

Space Travel

Spurred by the deadline of an Air Canada seat sale, tonight I booked my research trip to England. I leave Wed., April 25 and return Wed., May 16, which leaves me with a little less than three weeks (excluding flight time and time zone changes and jet lag) to explore everything domestic and interior in England. And also to go to embark on Part II of the Jane Austen Tour of England: Chawton Cottage and Lyme Regis (Nicole--want to come with?). And if there's time, France beckons. Or Wales. Or Scotland. Or Ireland. I'm totally feeling the wanderlust right now.

Currently, my biggest concern is accommodation. I do not plan to stay with Nicole for the entire time, and am hoping to get in touch with friends of friends in London, etc., and perhaps occasionally stay in hostels and B&Bs in the countryside. Too bad Karine's not already overseas doing library school. Sheffield looks pretty close to Chatsworth (country house) and to Derbyshire in general.

In the future, I see more planning: scouring the Rough Guides to England and London, possibly buying a Hostelling International membership, and contacting the Geffrye's museum about their archival collection, which unfortunately is not catalogued online.

I guess that means I'm going to have to write this dissertation after all.