Westminster

Big. Very Big.  High.  Very High.  Those were my first thoughts as I walked into Westminster Cathedral but, as usual, first impressions of these sorts are a little hard to put into words.  Big and high don't really describe it at all.

My friends at Wikepedia tell me that the cathedral was built between 1245 and 1517 with the western towers added in the early 1700s.  Okay.  I really can't comprehend that amount of time in terms of how long ago that was and how long it took to complete.  I wonder what my brother, who manages big construction projects, would think about a 325 year project time line?  Makes my 2 year bathroom reno look pretty tame!

It is a who's who of tombs and graves.  Although, you have to look close because some have fine print noting where the person is actually buried...as in not in Westminster.  Early tourism?  I started looking a little closer when I "saw" Shakespeare's grave marker.  Which would have been cool if I hadn't already stood in another church, in Stratford-upon-Avon, and looked at a grave marker for Mr. Shakespeare!  I was rather surprised to see Chaucer's tomb...especially since that first thing that flew into my mind was the Wife of Bath's tale which, according to my high school English teacher, was pretty racy stuff for the time.  Maybe the church was more liberal back in the day.

Having spend the previous day trolling through the Tower of London (I will never tire of the Crown Jewels), and just arriving from Buckingham Palace (arriving for the changing of the Guards...by accident!), it was interesting to see all the Royal burials.  M&M, my girlfriends in from Winnipeg for a little visit, and I wondered if the Queen might end up here in the end too.  Ignorant Colonials that we are, not one of us knew where a modern monarch might be buried these days?

We also agreed that it must have been terrifying for Catherine to walk down the aisle there just last year.  I wonder how she managed to look so calm and serene! 

Notes

Do you have your notes, then?

I have been singing as long as I can remember.  My Grandma used to sing with me all the time when I was little: while we did the dishes, in the car on trips, sitting around the kitchen table and especially while cleaning the house.  Anytime my Aunt Cindy was around she was roped into it too.  We sang endless rounds of My Eyes are Dim and My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.

So, when someone mentioned the opportunity to join a women's choir here in London I thought -- why not?  I'm so glad I decided to go for it!  It is so much fun and very rewarding.  It's very different than any other choir I've ever been in.  First, we don't use written music -- everything is done by ear.  And, second, it is all pop music from Dusty Springfield (You Don't Own Me) to Lady Gaga (Poker Face).  The whole thing was just started up by a group of women who wanted to do it.  Two women share the arrangement/musical responsibilities and they are without a doubt two of the most talented musicians I have ever run across -- and I know a lot of talented musicians!  It might be pop music but some of the tougher stuff is incredibly complex musically and a real joy to learn.

Like all leisure activities in England, the rehearsals are generally followed by a session at the pub.  Here we get to learn a little bit more about each other.  We also talk about pressing choir issues like will people think that we are doing a cover of Sweet Dreams (Eurythmics) because we all secretly want to be Annie Lennox or will they think we are copying the guy on that reality TV show?  Or, did anyone realize that Poker Face could be adapted to the basic Psalm chord structure used in church?

It was at one of these sessions where I was asked "Do you have your notes, then?" which I greeted with a totally blank stare and a rather eloquent "Huh?"  After a bit of good natured back and forth, I learnt that this is how one asks if you can read music.  So, I guess I do have my notes.  And very lucky to have them too.

I'll let you know when the first concert is.

Tate

A cold misty Sunday in London today so I opted for an indoor pursuit...the Tate Modern.  There are four Tate museums in England: St Ives, Liverpool, British and Modern.  The Modern takes on everything art from 1900 onward.  So, you never really know what you might be walking into.  Which is the appeal.  You might see something iconic or you might see something completely bewildering. 

Today had a bit of both.  A very nice couple in Brooklyn have made a feature length film about the trash that blows around the street in their neighbourhood.  Literally close up footage of exciting things like rolls of toilet paper, empty coke cans, and a thrown out receipt from an Italian restaurant being blown around the gutters.  Maybe things really got exciting after the receipt but I will never know because I felt an intense need to move along. On the iconic side, a great exhibit of cubism featuring some great canvases by Braque and Picasso and a lovely foursome of Lipchitz machetes.  And then tucked into a corner all by themselves were these lovely paintings by Kandinsky & Mondrian.  I don't think I've ever seen anything by Mondrian except his line drawings before...so what a nice little discovery.

Kandinsky - Lake Starnberg 1908

Mondrian - Sun, Church in Zeeland 1909-10

Money saving art tip of the day: you don't need to fly all the way to England and go to the Tate to see a sculpture by Lipchitz.  If you are reading this Blog from Saskatchewan, there is one on the front lawn of the Mackenzie and you drive by it every day.  It is from later in his career so it is not part of his cubist works but it is no less lovely.  It's called Mother and Child II.  Impress all your friends by mentioning that he is from Lithuania but trained in Paris and was a contemporary of Picasso.  Boys, this is guaranteed date material.  You can thank me later.

Lipchitz - Mother and Child II 1946

I also overheard some people on the escalator discussing their "Pram Rage" which I thought was hilarious.  I can understand their issues with the people who insist on pushing around GIGANTIC prams in very busy, and rather small, art gallery spaces.  From my observation, the pram is normally empty because their little charmer would rather be running around under their own power. I have to check my backpack but they can bring in a small bus. I think my Aunt Cindy suffers from the North American equivalent which is "Stroller Rage" and normally occurs in shopping mall settings.

So, that is Sunday in London.  Not bad.

Plus, the milk I bought is from the Royal herd at Highgrove.  A shout out to Prince Charles as I'm sure he's out there every day twice a day for milking.  He looks like a hands on farmer.

Bruges

So, what do you know about Belgium?  Before this past weekend I probably would have gone with they make good beer and chocolate.  Those are both accurate statements but there is so much more to know and appreciate about the lovely country of Belgium.

A frozen canal in Bruges

Don't forget to look up!  Much more attractive than Winnipeg's Skywalk!

Bruges is a very pretty little medieval town built around a canal system.  I would basically describe it as what you think a medieval European town would look like...picture perfect little streets and lanes that meander back into each other or mysteriously go nowhere at all.  Oh yes, and several giant churches.  Nothing like commissioning a giant cathedral or two to really let the world know you have arrived!  I was particularly enamored of the coloured glass -- usually green but sometimes pink -- stained glass windows adorn many of the houses throughout the town centre.

I never really had much interest in history at school and I honestly can't remember ever learning anything about World War I.  There are the names of certain battles: Vimy Ridge, Passchendaele, Ypres.  But these are simply names of places that I wouldn't have been able to locate on a map (I probably wouldn't even have gotten the country right).  In the span of 4 years, half a million people, mostly boys in their late teens and early twenties, died in an area little more than 5 square miles.  To put that in perspective, it is an area about the size of my Uncle's farm in Saskatchewan.  The Germans were able to transport their dead back to Germany for burial.  The Allies had no such luxury as their soldiers were from all corners of the earth: from the Scottish Highlands to the islands of New Zealand.  So, the Allied dead are buried, more or less, where they fell in cemetery after cemetery after cemetery.  A large number of the dead were never accounted for as their bodies were quickly claimed by the sucking clay bog that the relentless shelling and endless rain of those years created.

Every Canadian child learns a little bit about Belgium going through school thanks to John McCrae's poem about Flanders' famous poppies. On Sunday I actually stood in front of the bunker where he wrote it. I don't mind telling you that, having just spent seven hours going from battlefield to cemetery to trench, I had a trouble fighting back a few tears.

In Flanders fields, the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead, short days ago,

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields!

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands, we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields!

Cambridge

I shook off year end yesterday and went on a day trip up to Cambridge to see what the second oldest University in England (not to mention in the top 10 worldwide) looks like.  Cambridge was founded in 1209 by a group of academics displaced from Oxford.  Apparently, there was some difficulties in Oxford around that time -- there are mentions of hostile townsfolk -- and they had to close down the already established Oxford University for a couple of years.  Thus, some of the outcasts began Cambridge University.  So now you know. Exciting stuff for 1209 really.

The University and the city have been growing up around one another ever since so everything is all jumbled up in this lovely little place of about 100,000.  It is really quite charming. Most of the buildings date from about 500 or so years back...but not to worry the Victorians also left their mark too.  If you want to get a degree here it will take you about 3 years.  At the end of year three you take a comprehensive exam covering your entire degree.  So, three years of study and only the one set of exams.  No problem.

You will also need to apply to one of the 31 Colleges for admission.  These colleges (you've heard of at least three: Kings, Queens, and Trinity) are where you live for your three years but you can study at any faculty.  Your dorm room at your college could be built any time between the early 1500s and about 1950.  You will also eat at your college in the great hall...just like Harry Potter but presumably with fewer house elves.  All of this is very foreign to me but seems to make perfect sense to the Brits.  I like to think that the UofR would seem just as complex to them. Sure, they count the likes of Isaac Newton and Stephen Hawking as graduates, but the UofR has luminaries too.  I just can't think of one at this moment.

For all my bicycle enthuiast friends out there...Cambridge undergrads are not allowed to own a motor vehicle.  Just a bicycle.  There are bicycles absolutely everywhere!  There are even bicylce parks (a parking lot just for bicylces).  I have to say that I am a fan.  It's a very small town so there is very little vehicle traffic at all.  There stats suggest that 25% of people bike to work every day.  If you combine that with the general willingness to walk (anthing under 2 miles is completely acceptable for foot commuting here), there is very little motor vehicle traffic at all.  A very pleasing experience if you ask me!

On my way back to the station (only a 46 minute train journey from Kings Cross), I stopped at the Fitzwilliam Museum which was, frankly, pretty average.  But, just as I was desperately trying to find my way back to the main entrance (how I wish museums were more like IKEA some days...if only there were an arrow on the floor that would lead me back to the exit) I wandered around a corner and came face to face with a lovely Seurat painting.  If you ever want to impress your Mom, the painting that Cameron stares at in Ferris Bueller's Day Off is by Seurat and is called Sunday Afternoon on the Island of Grande Jatte.  A nice way to end the trip.

Well, honestly, I ended the trip with a Cornish Pasty standing on the platform at the train station.  It was excellent too.

Happy Christmas

Christmas normally meant travel in our family.  A trip to Yorkton or Ogema when I was little and then later a trip out to Winnipeg.  This year we are all off to Edmonton to celebrate Christmas with my Brother and his family.  Much like when I was little, I woke up bright and early this morning ready to get my trip underway.

It doesn't feel particularly Holiday-ish in London despite the constant bombardment of Christmas Carols, mulled wine and skating rinks.  Yesterday it was 11 degrees ABOVE freezing and the grass is still green.  People are shopping frantically and there is a steady stream of "How to Cook/Craft/Garden Your Way to the Perfect Christmas" on television.  One show even taught you how to butcher your own pig which is an interesting hybrid of all three categories of perfection.

My friend N and I went skating last Sunday at the Tower of London where they have set up a small rink in the moat.  It was a pretty spectacular setting...but there are also rinks at Canary Wharf, Somerset House, the National History Museum, Hyde Park, and Hampton Court Palace.  I'm sure there are others too but these seem to be the most advertised.  They are all artificial ice surfaces but I'm thinking that the ice plants aren't that sophisticated as the ice is really soft and could use a few laps of a Zamboni!  It definitely one of the first times in my life that I was one of the best skaters on the ice.

Skating also reminded me how lucky we are in Canada.  At home, we can regularly grab our skates and head out to a dug-out, slough, lake, neighbourhood rink or river. If you are lucky, some enterprising soul has gotten a few buddies together and dragged an old sofa down to ice level where you can stop for a breather.  Here in London, you clamp on your rented skates, book ahead and have a timed slot for hitting the ice...and there is not a hockey stick in sight.

I have finally been truly homesick and you'll never guess what was the cause: it snowed one morning.

Happy Christmas to all my friends and family!

Glasgow

I forgot just how much I love Scotland.  Even in the pouring down freezing rain I was still really happy to be there.  Something about it just makes me feel happy.  Well, maybe that was the fresh from the oven Cheese Pasty!

I was last in Scotland in late July and early August 2002.  I know this with absolute certainty because when I opened my Lonely Planet guide an old train schedule fell out.  I love when I leave myself these little surprises/reminders.  I have tucked my Coldplay ticket inside that same guide to find in another 9 years.

The quick-witted among you will have deduced by now that the purpose of my trip to Glasgow was to see Coldplay live.  I am not going to lie.  It was awesome.  It was the first time that I have seen them in concert and it was also the start of their Mylo Xyloto world tour.  Only 10,000 people in a nice small venue.  They gave everyone these cool bracelets that they could light up remotely which was really neat.  It was pretty tough to act all cool and sophisticated...you just put your hand in the air and dance like a teenager!  Attached is a photo of the crowd with the bracelets.  I would like to be able to say that I was inspired by my very cool photographer Uncle (Hans) or my equally cool videographer Uncle (Steve) but...in reality...my camera was on the wrong setting and I wound up with this rather cool picture.





Sunday's weather smartened up a bit (flashes of sun occasionally) and allowed us to shop shop shop!  Glasgow is the definitely the ugly step-sister of Edinburgh (my apologies to any Glaswegians reading this!).  It has rather retained the gloom it inherited during the Industrial Revolution.  There are highlights...it was in Glasgow that I first discovered Charles Rennie Mackintosh whom I continue to love and it is also the home of the most spectacular modern stained glass windows in a Church I have ever seen.  But, on the whole, it isn't my favourite spot.  However, the shopping is actually really good!  I was just a humble backpacker last time I was there and didn't have money to spend on anything other than food and lodgings (and beer)...but I did my best to support the local economy this time!

I was sorry to say good-bye to S&P but I am really grateful that they introduced me to N...whom I am sure will be a great companion on future trips!