London III

My dogsitting stint has begun. I have figured out how to upload photos and will do so either today or tomorrow; I'll include here a picture of Princess Basket. She is almost unbearably adorable. And for the first time, I'm sharing my bed with a dog. Usually they want nothing to do with me.

I'm adopting a new pace with the dogsitting, minding the gorgeous home where I'd been staying in London, going on walks several times a day with the pup, playing with and gathering up noisy dog toys, doing some cooking, even watching a bit of TV. This has been fun.

I returned to London on Friday night. Dilys and Tass took me for dinner to a nearby gastropub--I think it qualifies as a gastropub--and we had a really good meal. Then they took off the next morning. Among the exciting things I did: laundry, made soup, walked Basket, bought two books, and watched Will & Grace. Sunday I did some writing--I've resolved to do at least an hour each day that I'm here--and more cooking (I'm becoming slightly obsessed with Nigel Slater), and I also saw Babel. I'd love to talk to someone about the movie. I'm not sure how I feel, but I don't think I was too impressed.

Yesterday I did some of the same, and in the afternoon ventured out to Kensington. It's a very affluent neighborhood, obviously. I popped in Regent's Park, walked around, went through Harrod's, and then stopped at a cafe to do some reading. Last night I met up with my friend Erin's boyfriend's friends Markland and Ed. Markland has a band named Sleeping States (here's the band's website), which had a show at a pub in Shoreditcth. I managed to walk there from the house and really enjoyed myself. Markland is very taleted. You should check out the band. We might all meet up again next week.

Today I'm going to try to see another play, Amy's View, I think, and maybe make it back over to the Tate Modern.

Venice, or 'More Cheap Wine!'

I arrived in Venice on Tuesday night. Just as the bus dropped me off in the city, it began to rain, and it was dark, and due to the crap map of the city that is in my Let's Go guide, I was having a lot of trouble finding my hotel. I wandered around for more than an hour, crossing the same bridges over and over again, going in an out of alleys that were eerily familiar, worried that I was getting seriously lost and would have to camp out on the streets for my first night. With my foot not any better and my stomach growling, I was at the point of either crumbling on the pavement into a ball of sobs and moans or slaughtering something when I looked up, and like some damn omen, there was my hotel, right smack in front of me.



By the next morning, a gorgeous, crisp day, Venice appeared to me as the brilliant maze I was hoping it would be. I walked a great deal. The night before, I had met a few ladies from Munich who assured me that 'you can't get lost in Venice,' even though I had just an hour earlier, but I still took their word and just started walking. I bought a good map, too. I stumbled upon the fish market, a great deal of shops selling watches, blown glass, clothes, and wine, I found the Piazza San Marco, and took a ferry boat thing through the Grand Canal. I found a fantastic little wine shop where wine was sold in enormous barrels and for 2.94 euro, I got a 1.5 liter bottle (a recycled water bottle, even) of pinio grigio that was delicious. It was a difficult task to finish the whole thing in the two days while I stayed at my hotel, but I rose to the occasion.

For dinner that night I went walking in the San Croce district, where I found a place called Osteria Moncenigo. (I had been given restaurant recommendations, but I still don't understand how addresses work in this city; it is absolutely impossible to find anything that isn't already marked on my map.) I had--for 1.8 euro--a half litre of the house white (delicious), a primi of paparbelle granceto asparagi (also delicious, a light, flat and wide noodle pasta with asparagus), and 'seppie in nero con polenta': I didn't know what seppie was, but I did want to have polenta at some point in Italy. It turns out that seppie is a squid-like fish called scuttlefish. It was clearly very fresh, and the black sauce that it was cooked in was made from the scuttlefish's ink sacks. Apparently it's a local specialty. I enjoyed being adventurous, but doubt I'd order it again.

The next day it snowed. I was tempted to stay in with my pinio grigio and my book (I just finished _Notes on a Scandal_), but I forced myself out into the storm and for the first half hour or so I was pretty miserable. But then I hooked myself up to my ipod, played some Van Morrison, and, despite being ill prepared for snow and really irritated with the deceptively deep puddles everywhere, I experienced a sort of willful surrender to the moment. I found myself seriously enjoying getting lost. I stopped in a small market and bought bread, a local Gorgonzola cheese, and some delicious salami, and then found my way back to my hotel, laid out my meal on my bed, poured a glass of pinio grigio, and had probably one of the best afternoons of my life.



I found another out-of-the way restaurant, Oggi al Timon, and had amazing lasagne for dinner; it was so delicate and the cheese was so ripe, almost like souffle..... I've never had anything like it. Then I ordered another polenta plate, but this time it came drenched in a Gruyere-like cheese that was a bit rich for me, but still very good.

And this afternoon I'm returning to London, to start the dogsitting stint. I'm looking forward to my slippers and seeing a few movies. And I'm going to start reading some Henry James.

Kippers

The salted fish in my salad from the restaurant in Barcelona are called Kippers.

Barcelona

A quick recap....

My last few days in London I spent getting a haircut, exploring Camden Town, crossing multiple bridges on foot (the London, the Tower, the Mellinium, which didn´t wobble), and exploring the Globe Theater and the Tate Modern. I really had no idea of what to expect at the Tate Modern except that it came highly recommended by everyone I know. The building itself is awesome, but the thrill of stumbling on paitings which I had no idea were in its collection--Jackson Pollacks, Mark Rothkos, Picassos, Matisse´s, etc--was incredible to experience. There is a room of Rothkos, and I had it all to myself for about ten minutes. I will definitely spend more time there. I also stumbled upon Burough Market, where all kinds of merchants sell their gourmet foods. It is a big slice of heaven for me, and a bottomless pit to toss my money. I bought some soda bread and a brownie.

Friday I took off for Barcelona. It´s very nice here, with some psychadelic arcitecture and warm weather, and--slap me here, please--CHEAP WINE. I went to the market and for about four dollars came back with a Tolberone bar, a bottle of decent red, and a tube of q-tips. I found a perfect hostel where I have my own quaint little bedroom with a balcony overlooking a construction site and lots air-drying laundry.

I´m really wishing I knew Spanish. I really don´t know anything except for counting 1 to 10, which somehow stuck from my childhood. I´m doing a lot of smiling and pointing at menus and nodding wildly. I hate to think about what a fool I might be making of myself. In fact, I´ve found it best to say as little as possible: this way, though it´s utterly clear that I don´t speak Spanish, there may be some mystery about my nationality.

I´ve done a great deal of walking. In fact, my feet are killing me. In the Barri Gòtti the streets are narrow and go every which way, and more than once I took off for one destination only to find, half an hour later, that I´d come full circle right back to where I started. Most times, I wasn´t too happy about this. I stumbled upon the Santa Maria del Mar, a breathtaking cathedral, and also went to the La Sagrada Familia, which was also quite a sight. Food has been quite good. I really like the coffee, I don´t know why it´s so much better, and one night I had some delicious tapas--a mushroom soup, a salad of greens, plump grapes, and these salted fish which I can´t remember the name of, and then a rabbit and sweet potato dish. And all the food has been pretty reasonable.

Last night, while nursing my foot, I finished Alan Hollinghurst´s _The Line of Beauty_. I like it very much. It´s the third book that I´ve read while over here--I can´t begin to describe the joy of reading for pleasure, and having the time to do it.

This afternoon I´m taking off for Venice. I don´t know what to expect, but I plan on a crash course in Italian.

I hope all´s well........

LV

London II

I had a mellower day yesterday. I found my way around Notting Hill (no Hugh Grant sightings, but I'll let you know, Stephanie) and spent a few hours at Books for Cooks, where I could have also spent an absolute fortune. And last night I saw Tom Stoppard's play, _Rock 'n' Roll_, which I thought was exhilirating. I'm going to buy a Pink Floyd album today. Tom Stoppard is really a genius... I might have to go see it again.

Scotland / Ireland

Last Friday began with me finding a three-inch-long hair growing out of my shoulder; I should have guessed that something was a little bit off.

Friday is when I took off for my Edinburgh/Dublin adventure. I had a few hours to burn in London before my flight, so I decided to venture into Notting Hill. I'm completely shameless walking around with the A to Z map of London in my hand, out in the open. But during my search for Books for Cooks in Notting Hill, I was so lost that even the map was no use. A very regal old woman who gestured firmly with the hand that held a lit cigarette approached me on the street and offered help; she knew of the bookstore. Unfortunately I couldn't understand a word she was saying, so I just smiled and nodded and took off into what was probably the wrong direction. I never found the bookstore, and I'm okay with that (I will make it there eventually) because I feel so fortunate to have stumbled upon a Tube station which got me home in time.

My flight to Edinburgh left from the Luton airport, which is a train ride away. Aside from not being able to make sense of the timetables, I had little trouble getting there. Instead, when passing through security with my e-ticket, the security guard kindly informed me that I had missed my flight--by a whole day. In my eagerness to buy the airline ticket, I bought it for the wrong date. My bargain of a £10 ticket was suddenly a £90 debt.

However, I arrived in Edinburgh to find that, even at 11:00 PM, it was the most beautiful city I'd ever seen. I knew of the castle, but had no idea that it figured so prominently in the city. And the cobblestone streets, and all the stone, and the narrow alleys and 'chases' (I think that's what they are called--staircases that have been carved out from in between buildings) and all the greenery just beyond...... It really is an awesome city. I went straight to my hostel, but I wasn't quite prepared for the hostel experience. I knew that it wouldn't be all that elegant, but I didn't realize that I'd be staying in what seemed to have been a garage with bunkbeds. I slept with my long johns tucked into my socks that night, and actually didn't sleep at all because the man across from me snored so loudly and gluttonously that he must have been dreaming of eating a live animal.

The next morning I found a little breakfast cafe where I had the most disgusting scrabbled eggs I could have ever imagined (I think they were made from powder; absolutely awful), which were mushed up against a can of sweet white beans. I know that this is part of the full English breakfast or something, but I couldn't stomach it. Everyone was very nice, though, and they had very good internet. Next I went to visit the Edinburgh castle. It's been fashioned into a tourist attraction, with mannequins and music and gift shops and cafes everywhere, which disappointed me a little bit. The views, however, were spectacular. I have many pictures, but can't yet load them onto the blog (I'll figure out how soon, I promise.) Then I got the idea to walk to the ocean. Somehow I chose the wrong direction to take off in, and didn't realize it until I'd been walking for at least an hour. In this time, though, I saw some gorgeous cemeteries and churches and other architecture. I also stopped at the Fruitmarket Gallery, where there was an interesting exhibit called 'Preserves.' I can't remember the artist, possibly because I wasn't too impressed with the exhibit, but the galley itself is very nice, and I had an excellent lunch at the gallery cafe.

I then meet up with my friend Meghan's friend, Vicky. We went for a pint and then her fiance Brendan met up with us and we all went to a Spanish tapas restaurant, which was great; then we went to a few more pubs--I had some delicious Scottish whiskey; I'd never liked whisky before. Vicky and Brendan were the most gracious hosts. I mentioned my slight dissatisfaction with the hostel arrangement and they then insisted that I crash on their sofa (I got a much better night's sleep because of it!). And they treated me to the terrific dinner and fixed an excellent sausage and egg breakfast the next morning. I will forever love the Scots because of them.

On Sunday I flew into Dublin. It took me a day to warm up to the city. After being the recipient of such hospitality and being so impressed by the architecture, I was a little disappointed to be out on my own in a city not nearly as beautiful, checking into a lonely bed and breakfast (which was more like a Holiday Inn than what I imagined a B&B to be). I explored Trinity College (I saw the Book of Kells, which I shamefully had known nothing about beforehand) and then the Temple Bar area, where I saw a fascinating exhibit by an early 20th century photographer of Native American Indians at the Irish Museum of Photography. I found some remarkable buildings, but otherwise was a little overwhelmed by all the shopping. I did have a really fantastic dinner at a place called Gruel, though: some of the best beef stew I've ever tasted. The next day I went to the Dublin Writer's Museum, which was a very cool place with first editions of Wilde, Joyce, Beckett, etc, as well as other items such as Beckett's telephone and Joyce's piano, and then took my lunch into the park on the south side (I can't remember it's name right now.... Saint something). I met up that night with a friend of my former colleague Wendie, named Aisling. She is a great deal of fun, and showed me around the city, offering Irish names for some of the statues (the statue of James Joyce is known as 'The Prick with a Stick'). She took me out for a pint, of course, then we went for dinner to a delicious Italian place, and then out for a pub crawl that ended in me not being quite so bothered by the cigarette burns in my B&B bedspread, which had so kept me from being comfortable the night before.


At Aisling's recommendation, I took the Dart (a train) out of the city to Howth, a fishing town that was exquisite, except that I had a lunch that was pretty bad--a chicken and mushroom pie that tasted like canned clam chowder with a slab of puff pastry on top. When I returned to Dublin, I bought some Irish cheeses from Sheridan's Cheesemonger (which Aisling had also recommended that I visit) to bring back to London with me. Those were delicious.

In the end, I left Dublin quite fond of it. And now I'm back in London with my terrific hosts Dilys and Tass, exhausted, with the mishaps behind me (aside from a £22 ticket I got on my way back in... it was unjust, I'm going to appeal) and ready for bed. I've already worn my shoes thin and will have to pick up some new ones tomorrow.

London

A few adventures to report:

Yesterday was spent doing a bunch of research in preparation for my Scotland/Ireland escapade. I'm going to risk RyanAir. One can't argue with a £10 airline ticket.

I went to a really wonderful Edward Hockney exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery--you might be able to find some samples here. Then I explored the Strand, which reminds me very much of Times Square, had a steak and ale pie that seemed kind of mysterious at the time, and then made my way to St. Martin's-of-the-Field for a chamber music concert by candlelight. The music was nice--there was a beautiful Tchaikovsky serenade, a tango-like thing by an Argentinian composer whose name I can't remember, and a few Bach concertos for one and two violins. But for some reason I was expecting hordes of candles, and this wasn't the case--there was just a handful of candles scattered around--and then they had spotlights hooked up for the performance.

Also, I had no idea I'd have to purchase performance programs. I think that's dumb.

I'm off to explore Notting Hill today, and then off for Edinburgh in the evening. Will talk soon..........

LV

Arrival

The title of this blog did not allow room for the subtitle I had imagined; I wanted something like "and other adventures in Europe." Because I'm doing much more than dogsitting. In fact, the dogsitting hasn't even begun yet. But it is very difficult to come up with a title for a blog.

Be forewarned: After just a few days, I'm finding myself enunciating my t's and thinking phrases up that contain words like 'quite' and 'lovely' and 'brilliant.' I hope that this phase goes away before I return home to NY. I feel like a Texan over here, my American dialect is so pronounced.

There were just two minor mishaps on the transit over. First, the gypsy cap that delivered me to the airport--it's back left tire blew out about two miles from the airport. To my surprise, he slowly and shakily continued for the rest of the way to the airport, probably doing quite a bit of damage to his car. Then the flight was delayed by more than two hours; there was some explaination of the flight being overbooked, and those that gave up their seats had luggage on the plane that needed to be removed (they had to pull all the luggage from the plane in order to locate one remaining suitcase; I'm still having trouble believing this). I sat next to a nice but fussy Belgian woman who wasn't particularly patient about the whole thing.

And arriving here has otherwise been just excellent. I really like the Underground--cushioned seats! It runs as silently as a ceiling fan! IPods at a resonable volume level!--and I seem to be having little trouble finding my way around. Yesterday I tried to get familiar with the neighborhood where I'm staying, Islington, and then explored Soho and the West End on foot. My hosts Dilys and Tass took me out to a proper pub for dinner and I found the food to be surprisingly good. And today I went to the British Gallery--the Reading Room, I have pictures of it, it's totally breathtaking--and the British Library, which holds both the Magna Carta and scraps of paper on which the Beatles had scribbled preliminary notes for a few of thier most well-known songs. They also had an audio recording of Virgina Woolf on the BBC radio discussing what it means to write in English; I don't think I'd heard her voice before. I like Bloomsbury very much. I kept imagining what it would be like to see VW roll by on a bicycle, or to find her rolling a cigarette on a park bench in Russell Square. Then tonight I saw Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, which was absolutely exhilirating. If you ever have the opportunity, see it.

Here's a picture of the street on which I'm living.

And as for future plans, I expect to take off for Edinburgh on Friday, from there go to Dublin, return to London on Tuesday or so, and then somehow get to Spain for Barcelona and Madrid, and then return to London by the 26th, which is when I'll begin my 10-day dogsitting stint. And from there I go to Paris, where I'm staying put for 25 days. I will not complain.

I do like London very much. I've been lucky with the weather--today the sky was even blue for a large part of the day, and it hasn't yet been too cold. (Though Katie, I'll be prepared; I decided at the last minute to pack my vaccuum-sealed marshmellow parka.)

Once I figure out how, I'll put up a few photos. And I'll post another entry in a few days or so.......