Category Archives: London

09Sep / 2014

What Do Ann Boleyn, John Lennon, the Gutenberg Bible, and a Polar Bear have In Common?

(Official Post Subtitle: Seriously? More stairs?)
 

 

Today we visited the Tower of London, high on my list of priorites and a place Jim visited so long ago, he only has the most cursory of remembrances. Long known as the prison housing (and witnessing the execution of) political and religious dissidents, potential claimants to the throne, and wives of Henry VIII, there is more to the Tower than meets the eye.

The Tower has been a medieval and Norman palace, home of the monarchs of Britain, a museum, and even a zoo. (What do you give the King who has everything? A polar bear who was allowed to fish for supper in the Thames so long as he was tied to the shore by a length of rope. No really. Rope.) it’s the “Kings Menagerie” part that I found the most fascinating. We aren’t talking a modern zoo but a collection of animals kept on the property going back to 1255. The animals routinely killed visitors to the menagerie because, who needs walls or cages around tigers, right, and often died because nobody knew not to feed iron nails to ostriches?

(Raven and Yeoman Warder)

 

This is the point where I know you all are waiting for the good stuff; pictures of all those pretty Crown Jewels, the Koh-I-Noor diamond or the Cullinan Diamond (the largest cut diamond in the world at more than 500 carats).

 

 

Did you know pictures aren’t allowed in the Jewel Vault? So how did I get that lovely snap of St Edwards Crown for you all without getting arrested by the unhappy Yeoman Warder in that picture with his friend the Raven?

I took a picture of the picture of the crown in my commemorative guidebook. Which I bought for eight pounds specifically so I wouldn’t leave you all without a taste of the jewels. Never let it be said I didn’t care about everyone.

The jewels were stunning and it’s something of a surprise to learn how many of them are used regularly. The crowns and scepters are brought out at least once a year for the opening of Parliament and other vestments for holidays and state events. But beyond that, the opulence of it is sort of numbing. Big stones are big stones and it’s hard to really appreciate something that is ALL stones in the way these were. The word encrusted doesn’t quite cut it.

The one big downside to the Tower complex are the incredible number of STAIRS. There are stairs everywhere. Circular stairs of steep and narrow proportions, wood stairs, ornate stone stairs, big flights up to the walls and small flights down for apparently no reason at all I can see. Couple this with a rediculous amount of stairs up and down and inside the Tube stations and I swear we spent all day walking stairs, which my Trainer (hi Vin) will love (until he gets to the end of this post) but damn — I am so done with stairs. On day two. Of a 21 day vacation.

What I am, is screwed.

The picture, above is an interesting story and I think it warrants a mention. What you see are some of the more than 800,000 hand made poppies that are being “planted” around the tower, one for every person in service to the crown from WWI who died. (Both from Great Britain and the imperial colonies like India). Once you find out there will ultimately be almost a million of these and that each one represents a death, the effect is staggering.

(Poppies up close)

 

We finished at the tower in the late afternoon and decided to head up to the British Library which has an exhibit of original documents and manuscripts on display that (usually) includes the Magna Carta (next year is it’s 800th birthday so it was off display for maintenance and upkeep).

Among the documents were handwritten lyrics to Hard Days Night written by John Lennon on the back of his son Julian’s birthday card, manuscripts by Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, and William Shakespeare, and even letters from Ann Boleyn (in the 3 years between her coronation and beheading at the Tower). They also had a copy of the Gutenberg Bible.

Did you know pictures aren’t allowed in the Manuscript Room? So how did I get that lovely snap of The bible for you all without getting arrested by the unhappy Security Guard?

I took a picture of a postcard I bought for fifty pence. Because I’m that kind of friend and travel blogger.

Last but not least, I leave you with a picture of my quintessential British dinner, bangers and mash, eaten at a very British pub, the Princess Louise. It was very tasty, and precisely what you’d expect from a pub. Loved it.

 

We walked past Parliament and Westminster Abbey on our way home and took a few pictures but they are exactly what you’d expect. Here’s one but that’s all I’m posting; this isn’t anything you haven’t seen photographed better elsewhere.
Tomorrow it’s the treasures of the British Empire before we head for Hamburg on Thursday!
Until then…
 
PS – secret message for Randy:
 

 

 

 

 

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08Sep / 2014

Welcome to London where the Transportation is Infuriating and the Art Subversive

Consider this fair warning, Gang, the internet at our hotel in Westmimster is dodgy at best. Getting posts up May take some doing and authorizing commenters may also be slow. Hooray for internet problems!

 

So to pick up where we left off, international business class is some fancy flying! Everything you expect the experience to be, we got a very nice (and not at all Seinfeld-esque) dinner and breakfast, pillows and real blankets, even Bose noise canceling headphones. Neither Jim or I slept well, even with lay flat seats but I guess short of having your own plane nothing makes it not uncomfortable somehow.

 

But no time for lollygagging, there is traffic to sit in.

No seriously a lot of it.

Really a lot. The cab from Heathrow was a real London black cab and the driver was a real London cabbie but I have never seen traffic like this and I lived in New York! Even the cabbie was getting infuriated, and there were some questionable “not quite still yellow” lights being run. But we lived!

(Yes I know my eyes are closed, but it’s all I have of the two of us. You people know what my eyes look like. Look at the nice Banksy art and deal)

 

Today we headed via tube (not at all infuriating) to Shoreditch, north of the Thames and bordering on the Financial District in London. Like Harlem or the Bronx, it’s long been a home of the undereducated, lower class and therefore a prime ground for artists needing cheap accommodation. Like both the Bronx and Harlem it’s been going through a gentrification period which makes all the art we saw even more surreal.

 

Our guide, Dave, a photographer and scholar of street art explained the difference between street art and graffiti so: Street Art, he said is created for the benefit of the viewer. Often subversive or carrying a political or social message it is a work of art meant to be interpreted and interacted with by the audience. Graffiti is made for the benefit of the artist. Normally consisting of a name, tag or other identifying mark, it’s a big declaration that the maker was “there” – a way of declaring themselves kings of a neighborhood.

 

Shoreditch is pretty well covered in street art. Sign and lamp posts are marked with stickers, like artist business cards announcing the presence of street artists from around the world, walls are covered in layer after layer of art as new pictures, stencils, and paper appliqué works are layered over the old. That’s one of the unique things about gone street art, it’s by its nature ephemeral and fleeting. Art lasts days or weeks, sometimes years and sometimes minutes and Dave pointed out several works that hadn’t been there earlier that week. Once it’s up, unlike a gallery, the artist has no control over what happens to it and art is modified and often obliterated by the artists who come along after. (And often building owners and the municipality – though many artists have permission, most don’t making the act itself illegal and that alone is a statement against authority.)

Tomorrow, (if we can make the internet work) it’ll be tales of terror, beheading, and pretty stones. But one it is time to crash!

 

 

 

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