Hampton Court to Kew Gardens

I was determined to preserve whatever cartilage was left in my knee by limiting exertions today. After preparatory Voltarens we set out for our big excursion day. First came a bus to Waterloo station. (For those of you wondering why I never refer to the famous London Underground - it is because Lyn considers this famous network to be a nefarious plot to trap her in tiny spaces. This means we are good at buses.) Then we caught the suburban train to Hampton Court via ...!

Tom and Barbara Good were not in evidence but Lyn tried valiantly to see into Surbiton backyards anyway. She is not very competent with an iPad, so she only got front yards.

Hampton Court was the centre of a dispute between our two guidebooks. Lonely Planet wins - it was excellent. The palace was terrific, and if costumed historical characters wandering about sounds a bit naff - it all worked very well. The setting by the Thames amid stunning gardens didn't hurt either. Once in the gardens I took the easy option and was towed around by these two hairy fellas.

We had a great lunch and then it was off on another bus ride. We caught the buses to Kew Gardens (aka the Royal Botanic Gardens), a 50-minute trip.

This proved an even bigger highlight. It didn't hurt that the drizzle disappeared and we had a beautiful afternoon. The place is hundreds of hectares of eye-achingly beautiful woodland by the Thames studded with 18th century follies, 19th century architect-designed glasshouses that look like miniature Crystal Palaces, modern exhibits and various classy eateries.

I hope you like this next picture. Lyn's first attempt was at such a strange angle that we decided to have another go. In the process my iPad LEAPT from its case and flung itself on the ground, cracking the screen. How could this happen? It just did.

I would never have thought I'd find plants and gardens so interesting. We could have spent the whole day there easily. I saved the knee a bit by riding the little tour train around.  

It says something about both Hampton Court and Kew that we left knowing we hadn't come close to seeing everything interesting about them.

We caught the train home and Lyn endured the last underground part of the trip. Then it was the bus home. Great day, hurtling iPads notwithstanding, and only one full day left in London. What shall we do after such a serene day? Yep. Portobello Road beckons...

 

Lost in London

We are both sleeping later and later as our body clocks finally adjust, which means I wake at 6 and Lyn after 8. We meandered out the door intending to be in time to get a decent spot for the changing of the guard at the palace. But we left something behind and had to go back for it, and the buses were slow to come and moved very slowly through the morning traffic, and we went to Maccas for toilet and coffee, and anyhow, we didn't arrive early at all. However, we found ourselves a good spot to watch the comings and goings. The horse guards trotted by, and one group of guardsman marched past, and then the other lot, and then the horses came back. Small, but fiercely determined Japanese attempted to jostle me from my spot at the railings, while another attempted to photograph events by resting her iPad in Lyn's hair. I thought they had a reputation for courtesy, but perhaps it is a quality that doesn't travel. We headed off toward Hyde Park catching glimpses of the ceremonial shouting and stamping on the other side of the fence.

At Wellington's monument we both liked the sculpture of Peace and the Quadriga, and the Australian and NZ memorials were both affecting. From a distance the NZ monument looks like giant star posts hammered into the ground. Up close, looks even more like it.  

star post

 

NZ War Memorial

The Australian monument looks like a grey-green traffic barrier. 

Traffic barrier

Australian War Memorial

I still liked them very much. Then the excitement really began in Hyde Park. We saw squirrels.

And inevitably we also saw ...

By this time my trick knee was causing me considerable grief. We had lunch in the V&A but I scarcely saw much before I had to call it quits. Lyn plied me with Voltaren and by the time we got off the bus at Piccadilly Circus to pick up tickets for tonight, I was ready to face the world again. So we diverted to the National Gallery for a quick tour. Some great stuff in there of course but I was most fascinated by the wonderful portraits of smug 17th century Dutch merchants. One more bus and then a short walk home...

I like the "fourth plinth" project in Trafalgar Square. A modern artist gets to put something on the plinth which is otherwise unused. The current one is striking.

Me with giant blue cock

Three blocks from home I saw a book shop with a sale on. Lyn abandoned me there saying that she would go on ahead. The place was fascinating, but I left with only 4 books. I got home. No Lyn!

She eventually returned. Apparently she had got lost, not once, but twice, on the journey. To put this in perspective, when she left me we were 200 metres from home. She walked in a circle, asked directions, and walked in another circle. She achieved this feat while in the possession of two maps. She did, however, walk in the door with dinner and The Times. Her hero should be Sir Francis Drake, a man with a talent for circumnavigation and an unimpeachable surname.

Tonight we went to ‘The 39 Steps’ at the Criterion. Very funny and the theatre was the perfect setting. Very 1930s.

 

British Museum

Today I went to the British Museum. I saw a lot of stuff. I held a piece of the Mildenhall Treasure and a Bronze Age adze and a Roman glass bead. This is cool. This is also cool.

It is inside! So are half the world's treasures. There are also a lot of earnest young women drawing things. The only drawback was the usual threat of injury posed by roving packs of heedless Japanese. Perhaps in Japan people are so culturally attuned that they are able to move through crowds like schools of fish? However, in other countries ...  At the BM if you belong to any given culture you get to go to a gallery featuring your cultural heritage. The British will display it brilliantly and nobody will pollute it, steal it or blow it up in a fit of religious or political pique. This means the Greeks are unlikely to get the Parthenon Marbles back - which seems wrong.

There were a number of stern-looking Chinese discussing the displays in their gallery. Chinese always sound angry to me. I hope for the BM's sake they were just chatting about prices in the gift shop.

I bought one item in the gift shop. See if you can find it?

Very tired. Nighty night. 

St Paul's to Billy Elliot

Off we went with great confidence to Westminster Abbey. We did a complete lap dodging large groups of Japanese (all posing or walking backwards with cameras) before discovering that it doesn't open till 1.00 on Tuesdays. Dang!

So we caught the no.11 bus to St Paul's Cathedral. There were 20 minutes till the next verger led tour, so Lyn gave me permission to climb to the top. What a climb it is. The stairs get narrower and the roof gets lower. When I finally reached the viewing platform at the top the view was stupendous. I reached for my iPad to take a photo and ... realised Lyn had it. Google it.

I nicked this pic from the net. It shows the view down into St Paul's from the stairs going up to the top of the dome.

Then I hobbled back down the stairs past slowly expiring Large Americans and reached ground level to be in time for the verger’s tour. She was a retired school teacher who so had the hots for Sir Christopher Wren that you couldn't help but share her enthusiasm. We trampled over numerous dead people and were mightily impressed.

We then escaped to a great burger and a better pale ale and then back on the no.11 bus to Westminster Abbey where another verger took us around. This place was even more overwhelming. The stone tracery of the Ladies Chapel, St Edward's shrine, the RAF shrine, Poet's Corner and innumerable tombs and memorials ... It went on and on.

The tours are terrific. Who better to tell you about a place than somebody who loves it? I love the little details like the St Paul's Watch in the Blitz putting out the incendiaries that fell on the domes, and the shrines stripped of their decoration by souveniring pilgrims in the Middle Ages only as far as their hands could reach.

We took the bus home and Lyn had a 10 minute power nap then off to Billy Elliot in Victoria Square. We stumbled upon a really good Japanese noodle bar, and then, purely by accident, Westminster Cathedral (the RC one), which is sort of faux Byzantine and quite fascinating. We enjoyed a terrific show. The no 38 got us home and we are both exhausted. Lyn visited three churches today so she hit the candles pretty hard. If she has any influence whatsoever then you should be all pretty safe for the moment.

A spiffing day all round

Had I googled Russell Square underground station in advance I would have found the following information:

"Russell Square station has three lifts but no escalators . The platforms can also be reached using a spiral staircase with 175 steps."

Lyn did find out before we were committed, and so we rode the top deck of the no. 91 bus instead. Great way to begin our orientation. From Trafalgar Square we set off in search of the information office to pick up our London Pass. We began the first of the two spotto games I'm sure all tourists must play: "Who is that statue?" and "Isn't that in Monopoly?"

While I secured our pass Lyn found souvenir ducks. There were Bobby ducks, Union Jack ducks, Beefeater ducks and Houses of Parliament ducks. We left with Lyn proudly clutching her new Sherlock Holmes duck.

Despite numerous distractions like this ...

Lyn, new duck, horseguard, horse and headless man in tasteless shirt.

... we eventually reached the Thames and took a sightseeing cruise all the way to Greenwich. We quickly realised two things: British guides are genuinely funny and the British do museums infinitely better than, well, anybody. The guide on the boat was a waterman - our guide later on in the day was a Beefeater. The former was honest, laidback and self-depreciating, the latter was an absolute star. Everything we saw today was informative, well laid out and had things for kids (and adults to touch). The Vatican should come here and learn how it is done.

We heard Big Ben strike 12, the Tower Bridge was raised on cue, Greenwich was serene, and on the way back we got off at the Tower of London and serendipitously caught a beefeater-led tour. (Lyn informed me that beefeaters must have served 22 years in the army.) This guy had great delivery and knew his audience. "For all you members of the British Commonwealth, all this is your history too. And for all of you Americans, it could have been yours if only you'd paid your taxes." "This is called the Watergate (pause for effect) (smile) Yes we had one first. And guess what? No leaks. (Boom tish.)"

Then our moment of corruption - great fish and chips as our afternoon tea while perched above the moat.

Finally Lyn was ready to brave the underground. We caught the Circle Line from Tower Bridge to St Pancras and walked home via Waitrose. A spiffing day all round and a quiet night and then prepare for maybe Westminster Abbey and ‘Billy Elliot’ tomorrow.

Italian Driving and the Scot's Taxi

Writing this from the safety of leafy Camden on a quiet, overcast Monday morning. The flat is wonderful.

Yesterday began well. We left on time with 3 hours to spare and Michele, our male driver, proceeded to hurl us toward Leonardo Da Vinci airport as if he was in danger of missing mass. It was the usual performance that we had become used to seeing from pedestrian level: the double lines were for overtaking because they aren't used much, the spaces between cars were judged as if we were in the Millennium Falcon and Han Solo was steering, pedestrians crossing at pedestrian crossings were like witches hats in a training drill, and all was managed while our man, and every other driver, wrestled with a mobile phone.

We arrived at the airport to find that the Italians are infinitely more efficient at getting you out of the country than they are at allowing entry. We strolled past the endless duty-free and fashion outlets (checking sandals as we went - no luck) in search of something with egg - or salt - or butter. When you crave a Maccas or a full breakfast none is to be found. We miserably munched on something with eggplant and buffalo mozzarella and stuff on it, bought some Pringles and Lyn decided that we needed to start a fridge magnet collection. Mission accomplished - and then Alitalia called us to board exactly on time! Then, in only a half-full plane in row 23 (brilliant cos only two in the row so extra space), we readied for takeoff. And waited, and waited. Eventually more people arrived, from a connecting flight, then still more. The plane was now full of Americans. They are, I'm sure, mostly fine, courteous and generous people; but there were far too many of the pushy, discourteous, very large and downright rude type in silly hats on our plane. We took off an hour late on a two-hour flight...

Then Alitalia proceeded to add injury to humiliation by starving us. Singapore airlines would have found a way to serve drinks, two meals and coffee, but Alitalia gave us a drink and weird baked crunchy "snacks" in a pack. Mercifully, London appeared and the pilot gave us a final memory of Italian driving by slam-dunking his Boeing onto the tarmac. Then he hared around the taxiway for an eternity. (I think I saw Bus 64 pass us with Michele driving - but that may have been hysteria.)

We were doomed. Antonia would be waiting at the flat for us at 5.30. It was 4:40, and Heathrow's fabled congestion awaited us. And my mobile phone couldn't find a network.

But it was Sunday arvo and Heathrow smiled upon us. 15 minutes later we realised we were OUT! We headed for the Heathrow Express - expensive but FAST. Twenty minutes later we were at Paddington. Straight to a London taxi, where our luck wobbled...It takes about three years to learn "the Knowledge", but our driver had been 27 years on the job and clearly this is time to forget some of it. It didn't help that he was both rather deaf and a Scot. He looked up Handel Street and we were off. He wanted to talk, a lot, but found it difficult to hear our replies. We got his life story anyway. He was an ex Scots guardsman with a passion for history who had travelled extensively in Australia and NZ. He also had much to say about London's decline, the discourtesy and incompetence of other road users and the disadvantages of multiculturalism - all of which would have been more bearable if he had not kept turning around to talk to us, or to better hear us, as he drove. We arrived only 5 minutes late. Lyn immediately fled upstairs with Antonia and I was left to pay. Simple? I was like Bre'er Rabbit with the tar baby. He gave advice, he drew diagrams, he said he'd not keep me long, but then showed me maps and gave a quick vive voce on the Australian and Kiwi war memorials in Hyde Park.

The door to our building above A

The nearby complex with a large white roof is the handy Brunswick Centre

Free at last I fled upstairs. We had a short wander to Tescos and a peaceful night watching a Downton Abbey episode - English TV - bliss ...

Toodle pip

Last day in Rome

Lyn didn't find any flat sandals - apparently 19 shoe shops did not have what she had in her head. I pointed out that a sandal from above is a naked foot with a strap or two - and asked why it was so difficult. She treated me as if I had confused the Flavian and Antonine dynasties.

We visited the Campo de Fiori - which would be a piazza except it is the only square in Rome without a church!!! Instead there are markets. We ate a delicious fruito misto there. 

On the way we realised that we had passed a dog park every day, complete with doggy fountain.

Then we continued our shopping via our last look at the "wedding cake", aka ‘il Vittoriano and the tomb of the unknown soldier’, in Venezia Square.

We drifted sideways until, still sandal-less  we bought our last café and pistachio gelato near the Pantheon. We counted a possible world record 9 gypsies selling the toy of the moment. This is a pig-shaped ball of goo which, when thrown onto a flat wooden surface, spreads paper-thin and goes "wheeeee". There were two or three North Africans with the other tourist objet d'art, a round wooden plate that goes "click clack" and transforms into a more useless but intricate wooden object. Approaching any major site in Rome involves running the gauntlet of "wheeeee, wheeeee, click-clack, wheeeee". The Carabinieri or Polizia should arrest them for bad taste. Italian policeman, at least, always look splendid.

Drifted back to Largo de Torre Argentina and caught our last number 8 tram back across the Tiber.

Went back to our apartment for late lunch and a sleep.

Our late afternoon ramble took us to the local churches we hadn't yet seen including the beautiful little church of St Cecilia.

Then it was time to say goodbye to Rome properly. We caught the 115 bus up the local high hill called Gianicolo where Garibaldi's monument stands.

We saw a puppet show. 

And took in the views.

The walk down made it clear how much of Trastevere we had not yet explored - let alone Rome. We had a final look at St Maria in Trastevere.

And had dinner at our trattoria.

We fly out tomorrow and by late afternoon will be in London.

 

The "Red Arrow" to Napoli

Today loomed over us like Vesuvius. Would our navigation skills get us by bus to Roma Centrale station? Would we cope with a day trip to Naples by fast train? Would we traverse Naples train station and catch the fabled Circumvesuviana suburban train to Pompeii and still be in possession of lives and wallets? Would our marriage survive hours of trekking over the world's greatest archaeological site?

We found Bus H and it took us to our train in good time. Catching the Frecciarossa was a dream - on time, FAST (298 kmh), comfortable and clean. (Mussolini must be smiling.) The way to the Vesuviana line was clearly marked and the service cheap and efficient. (Naples has probably saved money on paint - every circumvesuviana train and train station was gaily and generously painted by the local youth of the area.)

Community train painting initiative - also known as the Circumvesuviana

Pompeii is big and interesting. The traditional owners appear, by their attitude, to be the local dogs. We saw two employees actually on site once we went through the gate (that were not selling something). One was desultorily sweeping up rubbish in the Forum. The other had chosen a random corner to guard with his walkie-talkie. Everybody wandered around, mostly respecting the numerous ‘No Entry’ signs.

We would like to acknowledge the traditional owners...

It was nice to see plenty of gardens - it tends to make the place less like a ghost town. In parts you wouldn't have been shocked to see a tumbleweed roll past. There were a few signs put up by the Italians justifying the gazillions the international community gives them to save this site.

Olives and vineyards where there were once olives and vineyards. Half a mountain where there was once a whole one.

We spent a marathon 5 hours there. Lyn deserves the Matrimonial Medal of Honour for support of Ridiculous Spousal Obsessions. By 4.00 we were done up and it was back onto the particoloured rattletrap back to Napoli. Where the beautiful red train departed exactly on time.

Are we done yet?

It was great to hear from Katie who rang our mobile just as we were pulling into Naples.

Lyn will have her revenge tomorrow. Saturday is shopping day!

"Vatican - last stop."

The instructions said that bus 62 from Piazza de Torre Argentina would take us to the Vatican. It didn't mention that it stops there coming and going. The result was that we were congratulating ourselves while being borne in wholly the wrong direction. Realising this, Lyn asked the driver who said, "Vatican last stop", then got off the bus and wandered off! Nobody seemed to take this amiss, so we stayed till, returning some minutes later, we headed off - back the way we had come. We managed to take over an hour for a 10-minute trip. 

Arrived at Vatican Museum 45 minutes late to see the sweltering enormous queue of those waiting to buy tickets on the left (the damned) - and the brisk file of those who had pre-bought their tickets on the right (the smug). Joined the latter and moved inside. It was overwhelmingly crowded at first, but we moved fairly briskly because we'd seen our fill of Roman sculpture and it took a highlight to slow us down. Laocoon was worth stopping for - and so was coffee and cake in the blessedly uncrowded courtyard of the Holy Bronze Pinecone and the Giant Snitch. (This may not have been its actual official name.)

Leon with the Holy Bronze Pinecone

Lyn with the Giant Snitch

Back into a series of spectacular galleries of old maps and tapestries - and what is it about ceilings in Rome? Every room has a great ceiling! The map corridor (perhaps not the real name again) was typical.

Then things got really crowded! First there were the papal apartments decorated by Raphael. Credit to Raphael, he seems to have somehow managed to paint everything as if it glowed from within. I had no idea that "The School of Athens" was just a small part of Papal interior decorating that rivals the Sistine Chapel for years of effort and final effect.

Speaking of the Sistine Chapel...what a scrum! Has it occurred to anyone in this country that, while it is fair enough to remind tourists that respectful silence is appropriate in churches and chapels, that the effect of constant requests to keep moving and take no photos and quiet please in 5 languages is somewhat counterproductive. 

I liked the ceiling and Lyn thought the "Last Judgement" was interesting. Another amazing Rafael in the Pinoteca and then it was wine, pizza and salad in a restaurant.

Off to St Peter's which really is really big. This is Lyn in front of "Plastic Chair Square" in front of St Peter's Basiica.

We saw security reject one guy. He was wearing a T-Shirt that appeared to be advocating terrorism. What was he thinking this morning? 

Inside at last. It was very affecting. I've wanted to see the Pieta my whole life. I know what it looks like. I was still overwhelmed by it. What sort of guy was Michelangelo that he could design something the scale of the dome of St Peter's, something as innovative as the double helix staircase in the Vatican museum, something as restrained as the Capitoline square and then carve the Pieta?

I left the Vatican today with an overwhelming feeling of waste. The church should keep the 10 best examples of everything it has squirrelled away here, and flog off the rest. They then might have half a chance to properly display it all, they could disperse the rest to museums all over the world (where they could also give it all the prominence it deserves) and squizillions could be raised for worthy causes. The goodwill would be useful too...

We got to see lots of Swiss guards - but most were in the uniform you wear when you are denying entry to people wearing terrorist T-shirts. This guy though was fully equipped to defend his outhouse against marauding Protestants.

My final thought for the day is that Michelangelo might well have been gay - but a girl who looked like this must have mattered to him.

Tomorrow we are off to Pompeii - if we can find the right bus.

Berniniathon

This morning we headed off to a very big park called the Villa Borghese in which there is a palace which houses a famous gallery, the Galleria Borghese. Typically Italian system - booked tickets and time online, lineup to claim tickets, line up to check all bags and get token, leave token as ransom for return of audio guide, order snack and pay at counter, take ticket to ask for food...

The gallery was amazing, highlights for me were everything there by Bernini, (it was a bit of a Berniniathon in fact), a Raphael, a portrait of a melancholy Venetian whose name I've forgotten, and Cardinal Borghese's rather surprising pair of bedroom paintings - two Venuses - one by Cranach wearing nothing but a smirk and a hat. Lyn found the Cardinal's ideas of interior decoration a little too carnal for a cardinal.

Nice hat!

We amazed ourselves by finding a bus that took us to the National Roman Museum - Palazzo Massimo alle Terme. This is one of several national archaeological museums. Gasp! Whole floors of ancient Roman painted rooms, mosaics, bronze and marble sculptures etc. The sculpture of the boxer and a room painted as a garden were the highlights.

Next was Santa Maria Maggiore - another awesome church. Lyn lit candles to keep all of you safe and then we were kneeling at the altar rail, Lyn in prayer and me looking at the 5th century AD mosaics. We stood up and realised we'd been kneeling on a tomb - Bernini's...

We were too tired to go out and crashed last night. Quiet day tomorrow...The Vatican. Looking forward to an orgy of candle-lighting and kneeling on dead people.