Some walks about town, Tate Modern, Tate Britain, and a Real British Home-cooked Meal!

Don't worry, I'm back to my usual self, now...I promise I won't break out in such archaic and ridiculous speech for a while--meaning a good month or so. :)

So on Friday, I had another wonderful day to pretty much do as I pleased:  which I did, of course.  As I was walking to the tube station at Earl's Court, I ran into my friend, Jeanette, and we set up plans to hit Portobello Road Market early the next day.  She also told me that if I turned left onto Earl's Court Road, and kept going, I'd have a really pretty walk and eventually come upon the Thames.  So I gave it a shot, but somehow lost the road, and ended up off my little map.  Fortunately, I live for situations like this, and I turned off into Old Brompton Cemetery, as a way of turning around from whence I came.

The grounds there were beautiful, and so old!  There were plenty of paths to walk on, and I looked about at the overgrown ivy on all the monuments and angel figures, as well as the dates on the tombstones...  It reminded me of going on random little trips around the Southside with my dad, either on the motorcycles or in the van; oftentimes we'd end up at some little cemetery, looking at the dates on the tombstones--just to get a sense of history of the area...  I was surprised how many people were about the place:  there were paved paths marked clearly for joggers, and plenty of people trotted by as I was surveying the grounds.

I remember looking at the face of an angel--a tall, proud, stone statue, weathered from rain, with the word "Hope" emblazoned on the platform beneath it...  As I watched on, a plane buzzed right towards the angel's outstreched hand, and I couldn't help but laugh a bit.  I'll bet that angel, erected in the early 1800's, never expected to witness such a thing!  Talk about a juxtaposition of old and new...

The quiet sanctuary spilled out on to Fulham Road eventually, where I resumed the pace of the living, and made my way up to the South Kensington station.  Took the tube to Covent Garden, to see it by the light of day, for a change.  All the stores were open, and they even had a little market  where I think I just may have found the cheapest warm meals in London.  I picked up a sausage roll for a pound and plodded on...

Street performers were out again, and I actually recognized one of them, from my first visit to Covent Garden.  Look at me go, I'm a local already!  It was a funny show, and the actor completely harassed this Spaniard into tying him up in a straightjacket...and spanking him.  Quite hilarious.

I walked along the river again, and discovered the Waterloo Bridge Book Market.  Lots of good finds there!  This was on the south bank, where I've noticed an unfortunate trend:  ugly, ugly buildings.  Sure, there are a few now and again that are somewhat aesthetically redeeming, but I shudder to think about what might have been ripped down in order to make room for the hideous concrete compounds they call architecture....yikes.

At any rate, it was there that I found Tate Modern, the modern art museum of London...which was was open, so I gave it a go.  The building is as ugly as sin, but the stuff on the inside's not bad.  The best bit was the enormous slides that are built into the main foyer:  twisting, steel and plexiglass tubes that descend from the different floors of the museum like snakes, and all deposit their riders (yes, you can slide down them on potato sacks--how nifty!) on the floor of the main hall.  I was sorely tempted, but opted to check out the galleries instead.

The next morning was an early one, since Jeanette's generally an early riser, and wanted to beat the touristas to the market.  Unfortunately, when I rang her buzzer at 7:30 a.m., her flatmate Karissa answered instead, and told me to wake up Jeanette (shame on her, haha) who, upon finally waking, confided in me that she had had a rough night, and would be poor company if she went.  She thus stayed home, but Carissa and I made the most of it.

I must say that despite the early hour, it was the best possible time to see the Portobello Road Market.  The vendors were all just arriving, and we got to watch them put up their stalls and chat amongst themselves.  The insane crowds were (happily) lacking, and we could actually see everything that was for sale.  We marched up the street, our speed wonderfully unimpeded, and felt like we were in on the pre-tourist, secret streets of London.  I also got some great deals at the food vendors' stalls:  3 croissants for £1.60, and four types of cheese for £2: feta, brie, and two others which I can't recall (one of which unfortunately, upon opeining, smelled horrid--so I promptly pitched that one after a few forced bites..but I felt cultured for trying!)...

Saturday night found Flat 3 and Kevin at the Devonshire Arms, a funky pub not too far from our school.  Good food, good Guinness--I'd recommend it.  Afterwards, Laura, Courtney, and I were prepared to head out to the Tate Museum to witness a really cool show:  an artist was going to be professionally hypnotised, then set loose on a canvas...  However, by the time we got there the tickets had sold out, and we made our way back to the flat.  Dang!

The following afternoon, I headed to Victoria Station to catch a train to Beckenham Junction, where my friend Steve was going to meet me.  As soon as I got off the train, Steve insisted that we head to Patrick's, a local pub where his friend Chris was waiting to meet me--and the Chelsea football game was wrapping up on the television.  I think I know his real motivation for buying me a pint:  he didn't care if I met his friends, he just wanted to watch his team win!  Typical male, haha....kidding.

So we all chatted for a bit over a Guinness, and I learned some new British vocabulary:  always handy.  Steve kept on trying to translate into "American" for me, but I eventually told him to can it, because if I was going to be living in London, I might as well know what was being said around me!  I think he got the picture, and graciously allowed Chris to talk about "waistcoats" and the "attack"  of a "football" team.

I finally got to visit the Robertsons' home, and Peter and Carole--for the first time since I arrived!  It was good to see them...and their house is so nice!  I loved the neighborhood it was in, too.  It's a definite switch from London life--much quieter, more relaxed, quaint, and quintessentially English!  A welcome change for an evening.

And a home-cooked meal made by someone else is alway nice...especially when it consists of roast pork, carrots, brussel sprouts, green beans, gravy, fried potatoes, parsnips, wine, and the best stuffing you've ever tasted in your life.  And it was followed up by a flaky pasrty with custard and cream...I was in heaven.  And of course Peter, being the dry-witted Englishman he is, warned Carole to board up the cupboards, because I was going to eat them out of house and home.  Haha!  I know I eat a lot, but I should hope I'd be able to stop myself before it came to that...but regardless, Peter made a point of sympathizing with the poor soul who had to foot my grocery bills!  We love to banter, so I had loads of fun...especially when I tried to help clear the table, rather than sitting there like a bump on a log, and accidentally stole the dessert spoons out from everyone's place settings, thus causing Carole to have to wash them again!  Crude American girl, she can't even figure out what those extra spoons and forks are for (up until that point, I'd been using mine to dish out seconds of the beans)! Haha, you can bet I caught hell for that one! :)

Monday night I went to see Billy Elliot at the Victoria Palace Theatre with my theatre class--and it was amazing.  I've never seen the movie, but I'm sure many of you have, so I won't bore you with a synopsis of the play.  The dancing was excellent, and I was really impressed by the boy who played Billy:  such skill at such a young age!  I took dance for 10 years, and I was never as good as that 12 year old boy, haha.

Today our BLC class went to Tate Britain, another art museum.  There are some amazing pieces in there!  We were lucky enough to have a guided tour, which lasted for about 2 hours--but after that, I stayed on until the museum was almost ready to close.  I saw pieces by Blake, and Turner...and even some by Hogarth, though they were behind a closed door.  Unfortunately, the museum workers were on strike, so many of the galleries were closed, and I didn't get to see as much as I'd have liked.

There was in interesting exhibit in one of the halls that was actually a series of protest signs and other related objects... Apparently, due to the anti-war protests around Parliament Square, Blair and the rest of Parliament decided to pass a restriction banning protest in one square kilometer around the square--which, if taken literally, intersects Tate Britain.  And so they have a line of tape on the ground of the museum, and the memorials, pictures, and banners that were confiscated from protesters lined up along it...which says something about the general stance both the British people and their institutions are taking on the war.

Well, that's about it for now...hope you're all doing well!  Love and kisses!

Cheers!

Chris