20/07/07: British Museum II

Not too much excitement here. Ash picked me up from school and, since he had not visited the museum on this trip, we decided to make a quick visit. Ash has a keen interest in Asian culture, religions and belief systems, so that was the area we visited. There weren’t that many photos taken. Both of us were tired, weary, and feeling somewhat melancholic what with it being Ash’s last day here tomorrow. We walked around the Asian exhibit – there didn’t seem to be much history behind a lot of the south-east Asian nations compared to the Chinese sections.

18/07/07: Wine and Cheese Night

The Notre Dame London Law Centre, as it is known, put on a wine and cheese night for its students tonight. It was organised by Professor Moens, who had espoused the meritorious benefits of said wine and cheese to every student’s body in the student body at every lecture leading up to this invaluable event. The wine, he detailed on several occasions, would be a fine example of Italian viti- and viniculture; the cheese – which will consist of four different varieties selected by himself, must be tasted to be believed.

It was quite amusing to see that on the day of the night, many people actually made the effort to dress up a bit. Several of the boys wore shirts and ties, and a couple of people volunteered to play on the grand piano to add to the feel of a wine and cheese night.

The wine was good – even aldehyde dehydrogenase deficient ol’ me took in a glass. Sure, the histamine reaction was pretty bad, but hey – I wasn’t going to let Professor Moens down was I? And the four cheeses were more than adequately smelly, which means that it must have been expensive and select. There weren’t any crackers to go with the cheese, no doubt because it would detract from the flavours of the cheese (à la Vlado’s in Richmond – boy was that a night to remember – ask Ying about it sometime…); but there were some crusty bread rolls with curls of butter available. And funnily enough, it was actually the crusty bread rolls that everyone pigged out on first!

Uneventful, not many photos taken, but enjoyable nonetheless.

17/07/07: Mary Poppins

If there is one thing that London could definitely offer me that Perth and even Melbourne can’t, it’s the theatres. And, being located in Bloomsbury, so damn close to the West End, I could not possibly let the opportunity to see these shows go by. So a ticket was bought for Mary Poppins. And ooh it was good. Damn good. No photos allowed during the shows, so there aren’t any evidence of the amazing spectacle, but ah, it was brilliant. The sets were mind-blowing, the cast were incredible, the music was nostalgic, the whole atmosphere was unforgettable.

The production is based on the Disney film rather than the books themselves, but did include certain aspects from the books that weren’t shown in the film; such as Mrs Corry, the personalities of the characters (Poppins being arrogant and the children being spoilt), and Poppins leaving when things got too tough. Well worth watching if it ever comes to town. A quick did-you-know: did you know that P L Travers, who wrote the original Mary Poppins books, is a Strayan*? Cool huh?

* not all us Strayans speak like this by the way. Oii know oii doint.

13/15/07 – 15/07/07: The Lakes District

Better planning involved in this weekend’s than there was during last weekend’s. A car had been booked – over the phone this time; adequate time was allocated to allow for the indubitably lengthy procedure which we’d have to endure to complete the paperwork and so on; bags were packed, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Went to uni, then met up with Ash, walked to the car hire place, waited in line, and left with a car spot on 2pm. It took us about 4 to 5 hours to drive up to the Lakes District, and it was bucketing down with rain the entire way. But we made it there without any dramas, adventures or even anything remotely blog-worthy.

The Lakes District is quite a large area, and is popular for being the area where Beatrix Potter hung out and wrote her stories, and for being where Derwent pencils came from, even though lots of other famous writers got their inspiration from the area (like Wordsworth). You can read more about the Lakes District here.

The first thing that I noticed or realised was that we were actually on a mission to find what we’d left behind; something I always loathed tourists doing in my own home country down under. Why bother going all the way somewhere else if all you’re looking for is what you already had at home? Still, it was a strangely comforting sort of realisation, since it really compounded the fact that there are certain things that I like, and ‘getting away from it all’ was one of them. It helps to make one appreciate what we have at home anyway: the room to move, the fact that in WA, one could just drive out and camp out for the night without having to see another person for miles around. And the fact that it’s all natural.

Not so here. We drove and drove in search for somewhere to camp out for the night, but there was no such place. It was all very, very… well, done up. You know, specially made car parks, fenced-off walk ways, nice toilets and so on. In the end, we pulled over in a deserted car park and slept in the car for the night.

That was another thing we took for granted. There’s no room in the UK for sedans. Everyone drives itty bitty little cars. So there was much twisting and turning and maneuverings and even disassembling of the interior of the vehicle (no, I’m not kidding. Ash pulled out the back seat. Literally.) in order to find a comfortable sleeping position. It was not a comfortable night.

The next morning was just as rainy and cloudy. But we drove off again in search of a secluded camping spot, stopping by a town to buy some breakfast materials (eggs, bacon, tomtoes... saucepan).

And boy were we excited when we finally found a little turn off that led to a nice lake! Only to have our hopes brutally crushed when we saw, here, in the middle of nowhere, in a forest by a lake, where there was no one else around, no cars, not a sound of traffic, surrounded by nature and the sounds of birds chirping and rivers flowing and brooks-a-babbling, a ticket machine. Yes. A ticket machine. You had to pay to park. It was unbelievable.

Anyway. The rest of the day was very relaxing. We found a little nook along the lake, built a fire, enjoyed a nice bacon-n-eggs-n-tomatoes breakfast, drove around the towns of the lower lakes, tried to go sailing but the winds and rain blew that idea out of the water (ha ha); and would you believe it, actually found a camping spot somewhere off the road to Ickenthwaite. Wherever that may be. If it weren’t for the oak trees, you would think we were in Victoria or south western WA.

So we camped there that Saturday night, and went looking for another opportunity to sail on Sunday. But this time, there was no wind at all, so we couldn’t sail. So we headed for home. And as soon as we did, it started bucketing down again. It was strangely enjoyable driving through the pouring rain at 160kph. But the little Peugeot was doing about 4500 revs, and 5000 revs was in the red zone on the dial so I had to slow it. We made it back quite early actually, navigating through London traffic a lot easier having done it once before.

All in all, a fairly uneventful weekend in the Lakes District. Photos can be accessed here.

12/07/07: Legal London

As part of the London Summer Law Program, we were invited on a ‘Legal London’ tour. Which was quite informative. It basically involved being taken around the four inns of court. I won’t go into the details here. They can all be read on Wikipedia. And I’ve posted comments on all my photos anyway. So get the details there. Very elitist, very exclusive, very erudite, very not-me. The whole place eeked of snobbery and social class extremes. Reminded me of a lecturer at the law school I’m attending who pointedly said to me (don’t forget to use the nice thick Queen’s English accent) ‘let me guess, you like camping don’t you?’ to which I had replied ‘…uh yeah. I love camping’; and she: ‘yes see I thought as much. Anything less than five stars and 24 hour room service is camping to me’. Anyway. That’s all neither here nor there. A good little tour.

10/07/07: Regent’s Park

It was a lovely day today, which had been rare recently. After class, Ash collected me from uni and we walked to Regent’s Park. A truly lovely day: the sun was out, the sky was blue (well, London blue anyway), the clouds were fluffy, the birds were singing, and there were cute little duckies everywhere. We hired a row boat and rowed around the lake taking photos of this and that. Well. I sat there like the Queen of Sheba taking photos, Ash rowed me around the lake. Unlike most days, it wasn’t particularly crowded either. Nothing grand or exciting, just… nice you know? Check out the photos.

08/07/07: Nottingham & Sherwood Forest

Ash arrived from Perth yesterday, and today we decided that since both our mothers had regaled us with stories and photographs when we were younger of the wonderful times they had had at Nottingham and in Sherwood forest, it was going to be our excursion for today.

One really should have learnt by now that it’s times like these, when you’ve got some fond, cherished memory or some childish expectation of poignant settings that you’re actually going to end up with a crushing slap across the face followed by a dousing of icy cold water from the reality monster.

The slap hurt and the bucket of ice water was cold indeed.

The day started as it was going to progress and end. We had decided to start off early, booking a car online and tubing down to Marble Arch to pick it up. Only to find, when we got there, that the place doesn’t open until 10am. So we waited. Along with everyone else who was waiting. And when the place finally opened there was the queue. Which was long. And the wait was long. And I kid you not, Ash waited in line for 40 minutes. I couldn’t take it. I had to go outside to breathe. Finally, when we got to the counter, I handed over our booking number written in my diary. Only to be told it wasn’t on the records. I tried to stay calm, truly I did. Ash was remarkably patient, suggesting that we find an internet café to double check the details. So we did. And the details were fine. The company just needs 24 hours to process all online bookings. So far, 24 hours hadn’t elapsed. I sent the company an email telling them to cancel the booking and we returned to the place. Stood in line. Again. And waited. Again. And finally got to the counter. Again. Where we hired a car. Again. By the time we got out of there, it was midday (not kidding either! It was exactly noon when we drove out of there).

The drive to Nottinham was long and frustrating. The traffic out of London is enough to try any Saint’s patience. It took us about three hours to finally get to Nottingham, and when we did, it was severely disappointing. Nothing was opened on account of it being a Sunday, and Nottingham castle turned out to be one big touristy trap, completely refurbished and shining with a tea garden where you can enjoy scones and cakes.

Quite disturbed, we decided to head towards Sherwood Forest. But upon closer inspection of the map, we realised that it, too, wouldn’t be as we expected since it was completely fragmented, shown only as small patches of green on the map. There were wood plantations and industry galore in the region.

Ash’s mother had told him all about Major Oak, which she had seen when she was younger. We made that our destination, finding it in the early evening. Ash was quite pleased at finally seeing the old tree, but I nearly cried it was so sad. Though probably not as sad as the tree that was fenced off behind a sign telling of its precious old age chain-sawed to pieces. Major Oak was also fenced off, surrounded by a pool of tanbark and propped up with a circle of steel poles. It was so depressing. I know I’m anthrophomorphosising, but the poor old thing! Imagine being that old, only to be isolated from all the other trees in the forest, tanbark all around your feet instead of grass, screwed and punctured with steel bolts so that you could be propped up by heaps of cold posts. How pitiful.

The area was well maintained as a nice park more so than a forest. Many people were walking their dogs. We went off the path for a bit to explore the forest, but it was quite thin and, well, ‘managed’. We don’t really have climbable trees in Australia. Not big chunky oaks like they have here. We had so looked forward to coming to a nice English forest. But this? All the images of thick, bushy, leafy green forests where you could climb the trees and hide in the foliage… gone. Check out the photos. A couple of the shots say a lot about Nottingham and Sherwood.

Don't even get me started about the drive home.

30/06/07: Around London

After coming back from the museum, I took a walk down to the Thames with Jess, a girl I had met from uni. Just yesterday there was an attempted bombing just around the corner from uni, but no one seemed particularly fazed at all by any of it. The uni is actually called the Notre Dame London Law Centre, and it's quite centrally located next to Trafalgar Square. There were a couple of enjoyable moments, but you can read all about these under the photos. A good day had anyway.

30/06/07: British Museum Day I

It had been raining all week. And I was poor. So very poor. So I had to limit my outings to no-entry-fee locations. Like the British Museum! So on went my Gortex and out came the Kathmandu brollie and off I went. It was jam-packed. There are over a hundred rooms at the British Museum, and with my usual ‘Pffth! What’s a hundred rooms?!’ attitude, quite determined to see all of them, I started at room number one.

Two and a half hours later I got to room three. Absolutely knackered. I couldn’t quite figure out how that was possible. All I did was walk around and read up on the history of collecting, clocks, and Egyptian statues. Still. I guess what that essentially meant was that it would take me around 100+ hours to do the whole place. That’s about five days without sleep…

It was amazing how humongous some of those stone slabs were. And they’d somehow managed to drag them all back across the sea from Egypt and into this building. The photos don’t really capture the sheer size of some of these things. And I guess it just goes to show just how big the actual museum itself is as well.

My favourite of the day? The little seals! Not the pinniped kind, the signature kind. There was a small collection of casts and moulds used for making individual seals, and the itty bitty details were quite impressive.

Recommended. Well worth a visit. Details and photos here.

24/06/07: Apsley House and Wellington Arch

Apsley House was one of the few places around London where my free-entry card could be used. So, having discovered the hard way that I’m probably claustrophobic (the hard way encompassing my having to run out of a tube train because I couldn’t breathe only to find that the underground itself was not enough, and on top of that, that I couldn’t actually face the lifts, so having to run as fast as I could up 177 steps – It’s 177 even though the sign says 175 steps – at Russell Square Station and then the 193 steps at Covent Garden) I took a nice long walk from Tavistock Square to Apsley House today, which is at Hyde Park Corner. Hyde Park looked fairly ugly from the outside. There were panels up everywhere, overgrown grass and slushy gravel; so I walked along the outside perimeter of it rather than through it.

You can read about the history of Apsley House here. It’s basically famous because it’s the first Duke of Wellington’s House. It was certainly a grand old place. And I took some shots willy nilly until a couple of security guards chased me down to let me know in very slow, loud and clear English complete with missing articles and some pidgin sign language that there were ‘No photos allowed in here’.

There were some very handsome paintings in Apsely House, including ones by Correggio and van Dyck. The opulence that surrounded the place was a little overwhelming, especially walking through the ‘China Room’ where the fine china were housed. There were gold gilded dinnerware that commemorated every aspect of this man’s life. Quite scary actually. There were soup tureens there big enough for me to bathe in. And that’d be big even if I wasn’t that small! The detail and intricacies engraved and painted on some of these pieces of dinnerware were certainly awe inspiring. There was a tiny part of my artsy soul that cringed at the thought of someone smearing their boar’s head pie gravy and cutting roast fowl and tongue dinners all over a painting I had laboured for hours over.

I visited Wellington Arch, which was informative, but the wow-factor was missing somewhat. The view offered from the top of the arch left something to be desired, and the walk around the statues memorialising him in the garden made me somewhat uneasy. There was finally one statue that made some sense amongst all the hero-worshipping sculptures. An unknown soldier laying down, his trench-coat covering his shattered body, revealing only a small portion of his face. This is war. These are the people who need to be remembered. Mind you, this should not in any way take away from Wellington his achievements. From all that I’ve read about him, the man was a good and great man. But surely in amongst all those statutes, there’s room for the faceless soldiers?

A walk home in the rain through Hyde Park revealed that the panels that had been put up were there because Aerosmith was playing. There were scalpers everywhere. It was amazing that they were so blatantly yelling out to anyone and everyone who was passing buy ‘Buy or sell! Aerosmith tickets to buy or sell!’. A good day was had, but I did go back to my dorm room feeling a little… dunno. Disenchanted. Details are listed with the photos here.