The British Museum, 10.04.2008.

Segment II, Day II: the British Museum. I was quite methodical about my time in London...I won't really go through it day by day, hour by hour, but I tried to do one major event each day. The rest of the day was spent noodling in Starbucks, wandering the streets, hitting various pubs with a friend....or being sick in the hotel (I caught a cold 7 days in).

A little background story to my British Museum trip: it was cold and rainy that day. Not unusual for London by any means, but unusual for this trip. As mentioned before, I was getting used to the sun. Rain doesn't suit me. Living in Los Angeles for 11 years will do funny things to a person, like make them forget that socks exist, forget that hair products don't hold up in mist, and forget that high heeled boots are a BAD idea when considering inclement weather. I looked at a map and it seemed close enough to the Tottenham Court Rd. station, so I thought, "Well, why not...I feel all skirty and boots-ish today." Not counting on getting terribly, terribly lost. After my pride was wounded enough, I stopped at a vendor and purchased the map I'm referring to right now to write this entry. My mistake was thinking I could spot the museum from a distance, despite not having any idea what it looked like in the first place. Silly. I would have crossed paths with Bugs and ended up at Pismo Beach at the rate I was messing up. The map vendor pointed me in the right direction. Unfortunately, by this point my boots had eaten away at my ankles enough to draw blood. So my memories of the British Museum are a bit patchy as I limped my way through for a few hours. Needless to say, nought was done the rest of the night...other than tending wounded feet.

The museum itself? Imposing. It was cold, wet and crowded. It felt quite good to get inside after navigating the iron gates, wobbling up the wet steps and shaking my umbrella in unison with 50 other people. The interior? Daunting. Huge. I just followed my nose, and thus probably missed some excellent exhibits from massive and now-extinct cultures. I was most impressed by the Egyptian, Indian and Chinese collections. The Assyrians always impress - their tendency toward zoomorphism is exciting to me. Lion and hawk-headed deities wielding sickles and daggers...very threatening, and there's a slight fear of the completely unknown as well. Why I feel I understand the ancient Egyptians better is anyone's guess. Everything seemed massive and desperately imposing...huge granite busts and sphinxes (plural also being sphinges, which I may like better), lions, wolves; renditions of serene and/or exceptionally vexed rulers...huge tablets of unknown scrawl from this empire and that. Made one feel quite small and insignificant. Heck, I thought we needed the cosmos for that. I wonder who made these items...who modeled for them (and, naughty me, quite interested in finding out who modeled for that fallen soldier in the Greek collection), what they were like, what their lives were like. It leads me to a slight melancholy most times, and sadness at mortality.

The Indian and Chinese exhibits, however, make me think about life and love and sex, and the joys we have in front of us each day. So things started looking up. Pottery dishes to eat good food out of, statuary teaching us grace and divine peace, vases to extend the life of that flower or twig just a bit longer...and the death gods: even them dancing and rampantly jolly whilst treading on their victims. And my favorite god of all, Ganesha, dancing with trunk slightly lifted; stomach jutting in front of him. There is a statue of Ganesha in LACMA's collection whose belly is dark and of a high polish from all the hands that rubbed it for good luck over the centuries. By the time I'd wound my way to the end of the Chinese collection (and those amazing life-sized ceramic statues), I was knackered. And my feet hurt abysmally. Almost time to go.

I made one more stop on my way out....into the library area. Oh, the books of it all! I was jealous. There. I admit it. The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte is kind of a wet dream fantasy for me; if I collect anything, it is books. So the library was difficult. But beautiful. Many, many objet d'arte mini-collections behind glass - I can't possibly do it any sort of justice; no notes, tired, and good golly, nearly four months have flown by! But at least the photos below can give you a glimmer :)

It was time for me to leave then...as it is time for me to leave now. More soon!

Natural History Museum, 10.03.2008.

I'd mentioned I might go more indepth on the London trip, so hold onto yer hats. Going to be a long ride.

May as well take it day by day. First day in, after a surprisingly comfy-womfy flight on Air New Zealand - highly recommended!, and checking into the Kensington Marriott, I trotted off to the Natural History Museum down the street. It is almost skipping distance from the Gloucester Road tube station.

I was flummoxed from the get-go, because, as you other Americans are well aware, you have to empty your pockets at the door of any museum. But I couldn't find the desk where I might pay, and saw no lines (despite tons of people). Suffered a surfeit of guilt as I walked in...and laugh now that I should feel guilty about learning for free. A friend tipped me off that there is no admission fee...but they heartily enjoy donations.

The dinos held the greatest allure, and as soon as you walk in you're battered with huge skeletons - picking their largest and most visually impressive 'saurs to draw you in. A diplodocus stretched from snout to tip-of-tail by way of a post-mortem greeting...beautiful. And I always find myself wondering what they really looked like. Glad that archeologists and such have been finding organs and skin imprints to fill in our rather huge knowledge gaps.

The museum was PACKED. I know I've said this repeatedly, but I don't think I've ever been so pressed against my fellow man anywhere. At least fellow humanity I don't know. It was a bit claustrophobic, and unfortunately, the way the paleo area is arranged, it's much like a cattle run to the slaughterhouse. Once you're on the path, there's no going back. I think this is excellent information for those who 1) can't stand crowds, and 2) may not be able to stand for long periods of time. I thought of my overweight friends a lot on this trip.

After a while, I felt like bolting, but eased into a focus on getting photos and lessening my fixation on the people around me. The family ahead of me were horrified by the amount the dinosaur exhibit cost...odd concern, that. And of course you could hear everything anyone was saying, because everyone is up your nose.

Having said that, it is an amazing collection. I was enchanted with the way they had set up the walkway - the dinos are on two levels and you get to see most specimens from two perspectives. Space-saving and interesting - very clever. The top level allows you to be face-to-face with the bulk of the dino skellies, lots of predators up there...the grouping of raptors is posed quite well, making it easy to imagine them coming after you (Jurassic Park may have assisted with that visualization).

The lower level is more the "Have fun with learning!" level...lots of little informative plaques and games/exercises. But you can still look up and see the skeletons above you (as they're placed on clear plexi; again, quite clever thinking).

The shadows are amazing. I wish I wasn't constantly being prodded forward by the crowd. Could have stayed and snapped shots for a very long time. But they had to be on-the-fly. Too bad, but got what I could.

The rest of the museum is much like any natural history museum, with impressive bits and not-so impressive bits. I dislike taxidermy and don't much care that it was the only way for people to learn at one time. Looking at musty and motheaten dead animals does not impress me. A particularly horrifying display of hundreds of dead hummingbirds left a deep impression.

It seemed as though I was always walking in the wrong direction...the walkways are teensy-tiny and once again force you into intimate contact with perfect strangers. I became quite worn out after three hours or so, and decided to call it a day even though I hadn't seen the mineral room yet. And heck, I'll be back.

Beautiful museum, and an excellent first stop when you head to London. Afterward, if you walk west down Cromwell, there's a very tasty little Indian restaurant near the Holiday Inn and Marriott, across the street. Tiny place (and for the life of me I can't remember the name), but quite worth it. One waiter is very sweet and the other is quite rude. Good luck to you on which one you get ;)



"Full screen" mode (the little button on the bottom right of the frame) is advised for the above slideshow...I like to think it's more impressive that way.

London, rainy or not.

After visiting London twice now in a very short span of time, I can say that I've been allowed to know the city itself a little better...we haven't become chums and I can't say I approve of its behavior all the time, but I keep going back for more.

Very rarely will you find me jamming as much as I can into a day...I like to linger and lurk. I like to people-watch and sit in parks, ride the underground as far as it will go to see who gets on and off, walk gardens, spend the day in museums. Garrulous behavior is a fair-weather friend. But in doing these things, I get to listen, to watch, to absorb....to hear what people are talking about, to see how people are reacting to each other and the world around them. Dashing around like a crazy person trying to fit in the innumerable tourist attractions would drive me bonkers.

So what were people saying? Everyone was very worried about the economy...lots of dark laughter about money, scowls and frowning amongst businessmen wearing the same 3/4 coat (that one coat seems to be quite the phenom in London). Some idle and fun chatter one night amongst friends about being gay and some lowgrade but charming humor about the station named Cockfosters. Racist banter in Kew Gardens between a posh couple wheeling their baby (definitely of the "illegal immigrant rant" sort so popular here). Much talk in languages I couldn't understand which I heartily enjoyed...is it wrong to enjoy incomprehension? At one of the hotels I stayed in the first visit, there were people (mainly men) from all over the world...I fancy the men above me were Russian, not really sure...but they sure did drink one evening, and started singing out the windows into the night and the angry yells from other tenants joined the din (an Italian man stormed the stairs and starting yelling, but at the very end, for some reason, switched to english and yelled "Shut...the fuck...up!!!!"). I hung out on Edgware a goodly portion of my first visit, and didn't understand much of anything I heard there. Edgware has an interesting mix of people, you can spot Lebanese restaurants and hookah lounges, travel agencies for West Africa...one night while sitting in a Starbucks (yes, I did that quite a bit) there was a family drama unfolding next to me as one brother appeared to be talking with a much less responsible/respectable brother who had lost some money...I have no idea what language was being spoken, but an irritating female relative with a nice English accent said "Sorry?" about every five seconds. I felt like clocking her after a while. They were getting riled up and I left. No need to join the scuffle at the local SBs.

What were people doing? Well, the first time I went for two weeks. It was gloriously sunny and warm nearly the entire time. People were blinking like moles and soaking it in, everyone draped about the nearest available sunny spot while on their breaks. In Kew Gardens, the grass was covered with people in long heavy clothes pulled up to expose midriffs or arms, pantlegs pulled up, any spare patch of skin to soak in the light. Couples were walking in Hyde Park, and dogs romped. I personally went to a bench inside Notting Hill Gate and sat in the sun and phoned my mother on my birthday. I sighted a pretty spiderweb on one piece of wrought iron fence. Then, just sat there and basked for a while. So (from what I hear) I was getting a rather lighthearted and pleasant disposition from everyone due to the unexpected spate of good weather. People sat down to chat with me, approached me and asked me about the upcoming election, asked what it was like to live in LA. Thoroughly enjoyable. Not quite so enjoyable were the first trip's pubs. I went to the Shaston Arms off Oxford...and there was a rather large crowd of besuited and puffed up people standing around out front. Once inside at the bar, two of these same types walked up and I watched while one said to the other, "Now that you're promoted, your first order of business is to get us all drinks." So the young man pushed in front of me and did just that. The cider was quite good though.

On another note, I have rarely seen such consistently terrible treatment of waitstaff. No diner was ever pleased, no matter where I went. Tips seem to be unheard of, and when I did tip, while gratified, the server would sometimes say "Oh, you're an American" and smile. Frustrating. The tipping thing I can understand. It's considered decent here to leave 15-20% if the server is good, 10% if the server wasn't so attentive. We've become accustomed to it and include it in our mental tally when we're going out. But not so in London. The impecunious part of me says "Great! More money for me!" but still I tipped. I wonder if the wage scale is different for London waitstaff? But find it unlikely. I also suspect that some of these people aren't working on the up and up (I would work under the table - or is it called in the black? - if I lived there), which means they make even less. In the aforementioned Edgware Starbucks, a very pretty barista dealt with a particularly unpleasant piece of work in line ahead of me. I was stunned and asked if many people treated her that way, and her reply was, "You don't"...and smiled. For what it's worth, I did see many random acts of politeness committed as well...just not in a restaurant, not on the first trip.

To move on, there were many excellent art shows on at the time, including the Rothko exhibit at Tate Modern, the Francis Bacon retro at Tate Britain and the "Warhol: Other Voices, Other Rooms" exhibit (which is apparently also still available at its only US location at Wexner Center for the Arts in Columbus, OH).

I also went on a general museum crawl; the Natural History Museum was filled to the gills with people and the area displaying the dinosaurs was like Disneyland on New Year's Eve. I've never seen a museum so packed, and it's nearly a shame they don't charge anything. The exhibits are there to engage you, and engage they do...although I still find taxidermy incredibly creepy and couldn't find the rocks and minerals no matter how many times I pushed through the same crowd. The British Museum was unfortunately lost on me after the first few hours as my feet were bleeding in my unwise choice of footwear (don't wear high-heeled latex boots if you're planning on getting deeply lost in London in the rain). But I will go back soon. The collection, as always, raises questions about morality and colonialism and all that nifty stuff...but much like going to the zoo and catching my first glimpse of the prowling jaguar in its cage (guilt guilt guilt), part of me is thrilled to see these artifacts, to be so close, to study them...but neural overload and pain set in, and things went downhill from there.

On a friend's recommendation, I went to the Leighton House. Firstly, it was an absolutely charming jaunt just to get there, sunny and bright, with fall leaves swirling through the air, almost contrived, as though Pixar had taken over my backdrop. Fresh clean air and good walk. The house itself was lovely...filled with gorgeous tiles, and while I could appreciate Lord Leighton's paintings, I enjoyed his small sketches from the road the best. They were very impressionistic and fast, daubs and smears of paint trying to quickly inform or remind one of a particular landscape. There were thick lovely rugs on the floor that made me feel guilty (again) for walking on them. Statuary, cozy period furniture...places like this always make me want to sit down with a cup of tea and read.

Anyhoo, I'll go on more about London another time, more indepth on a number of things, the walks I took, more people I encountered, places to go...this has been rather slapdash, but oops! I'm out of time.