Cycle Tour '13

It was the Summer bank holiday this weekend, and I managed to make a quick trip. This should be pretty easy to guess from the video.



That's the problem with cycle touring: some cock always gets in your way.



I rolled off the ferry at Hoek before 8am, and set off to skirt around the east side of the Hague, through Delft to Leiden.



Last time I was in Leiden, the castle was closed for repairs. This time I got to have a snoop around. There is a well in the middle where, stories claimed, cod were caught, there were secret passages to outside the city, and anything thrown in would wash up on the coast. All lies.



Me nestled in among the other bike tourists. I love the Netherlands.







I walked to Leiden station and took a train to Amsterdam. There, I spent the day at the newly re-opened Rijksmuseum. The star attraction there is Rembrandt's "the Night Watch".

The name is a little misleading. When they restored the painting, it turned out that it wasn't night at all - the painting was just very, very grubby. Yes, that's true.







Bulbs in a stall at the flower market.











On the third day, I got up very early and raced back down the coast to Hoek to catch the afternoon ferry sailing. I followed my old friend, the North Sea Route: LF1a along the edge of the dunes. It was great.



About 12 hours, a mega-ferry, and 3 trains later, I was home again. The whole trip only took about 72 hours, but it felt like I was away for a week.

We Saw Warsaw (III)

Near the centre of Warsaw is a palm tree. We investigated this unlikely presence and it is indeed artificial, created by an artist. I like it.

On the second day we went to the Warsaw Uprising Museum.



It's a fascinating piece of war history, of which I knew very little. It truly shows how brave, tough and resourceful the Poles are. In 1944, the population (men, women and children) rose to expel the occupying German force. They expected outside help, but the British were otherwise occupied and it didn't serve Stalin's purposes for Poland to appear successful. The rebellion ultimately failed after an incredibly devastating fight.

An Australian who escaped from a POW camp and eventually ended up fighting with the Poland resistance commented that he thought the Aussies were the toughest people in the world until he met the Polish.

Here's a film that plays in 3D at the museum. It shows the devastation of the city.



The museum has loads of artifacts, including the homemade armbands of many of the fighters. What makes the museum doubly sad is the knowledge that Stalin declared the uprising illegal and many of the heroes were deported and murdered. It was forbidden to discuss it in positive terms. It was a long wait for the country's eventual freedom.

There's nothing particularly jolly about the museum, but it's excellent. Highly recommended.

This is the Palace of Culture and Science, an imposing gift from the Soviets to the people of Warsaw. As you can imagine, the Poles do not love it. According to Wikipedia, the local nicknames for it include Stalin's Syringe, the Elephant in Lacy Underwear and the Russian Wedding Cake.



The stadium opened for the Euro 2012 football tournament. You didn't? Well, it was important in this part of the world.







So, that was our flying visit to Warsaw. I couldn't recommend it for historical sites, but the Polish are nice, the food is interesting and different, and the Warsaw Uprising Museum is excellent. Overall, a fun weekend away.

Booked Out

Okay, I haven't posted for a while. Here's a catchup:

No word on my job, and I'm down to my last choclate eclair sweet. It's still stressful.

Absolutely freezing tonight. I'm wearing 2 pairs of socks, and 2 jerseys, and I'm still so cold I think I'll just go to bed.

I've spent the last 2 Saturdays in London. One of the books that I brought with me from NZ was "Barnaby Rudge" by Charles Dickens. I wouldn't have believed it's possible to write a novel this boring about religious riots that burned swaths of London in the 18th century, but Dickens managed it. And to boot, it's just lazy. Every Catholic character is pure and industrious, while every Protestant is either evil or a moron. Awful book. But it did get me interested in the Tyburn Tree. The TT is the site where the gallows were located in London. 50,000 people were hanged there. That's FIFTY THOUSAND. I went to the site by the corner of Hyde Park - there's nothing there. Not even a plaque. It seems like it should be important to me.

While I was there, I walked through Marble Arch. Nothing happened, so I walked back through. Still nothing. It's against the law for the general public to pass under the Arch - only members of the royal family are allowed to. Anarchy in the UK, oi!

I generally read classic literature. (Pretentious, watashi?) But since I've been here I've read Barnaby Rudge (awful), Alice in Wonderland (worse), and the short stories of Edgar Allan Poe (unimaginably bad - unfinishable). The classics weren't cutting it, so I decided to catch up on some more modern novels. I'm a pretty slow reader, but I read "Girl with a Pearl Earring" in a weekend. Fantastic. It got me interested in Vermeer (the artist it's about). He only painted a few works in his life (I don't want to boast, but I once painted a fence in a single afternoon), but one of them is at the National Gallery in London. So, after seeing the traffic island that is entirely un-gallowsy, I wandered through driving rain in Mayfair and Soho to the gallery. To be honest, in the end the Vermeer didn't blow me away, nor did the Carravagios, despite the fact that he inspired many of the Dutch masters. But the Canalettos were great and I found a Camille Pissarro of Montmatre Boulevard at night that is my new favourite Impressionist painting. Overall, it's just so great. It's a gallery that has so many paintings that you end up begging "Please, no more" long before you've seen everything. My only complaint is that last time I was there, I was most taken by the collection of Hieronymus Bosch paintings, but this time they were gone. I guess they're on tour.

Having not learned my lesson, I slipped next door to the National Portrait Gallery. Meh. It's just a novelty compared to the Nat Gal. The Chandos Shakespeare is interesting only for its historical significance, not its artistic merits.

This Saturday, I went back to London. This time I headed to the church St George's Bloomsbury. I think it's the only Nicholas Hawksmoor church that survived the Blitz. They've just cleaned it for the first time since 1730, and it's shining white. I think it's possible, even for an atheist, to appreciate the beauty created in God's name from a post-Darwinian humanist perspective. Beautiful place.

I then caught up with D, who I stayed with when I arrived in London. We had lunch in Chinatown, and then met some friends to see Spamalot in the West End. We then had a curry in Soho for tea and caught the end of the rugby at a pub. It was a really good day out. It was probably also a good idea to be away from the flat for the game. It seems that the Irish didn't find the Umaga spear tackle on O'Driscole as funny as we did.

I'm currently reading "White Teeth". I guess that means I'll be visiting Cricklewood next. I hear it's beautiful.

Due to the trips to London, "Savevember" has become "Spendvember". Oh well, at least the month still has a theme.

Okay, here's some pretty crappy photos from my street. I took a bunch at dusk on Sunday, but I can't do the extended time shots properly without a tripout - the camera shakes in my hand. My tripod is 20,000km away, and I can't remember if it's in the wardrobe or in the garage. Probably not worth me going and getting it. Anyway, I call these "Study in Bloody Cold (I)":

Serenity now!

I'm going to coin a new term: "townaphile". I've got kind-of a crush on Cambridge. Frankly, it's cute as a button.

Firstly, it's a bike town. Apparently, about 1 in 4 people in Cambridge travel by bike, which is the highest ratio in the UK. Because this is England, cars are banked up everywhere not moving. But there are cycle paths everywhere, and the bikes go whizzing along without impediment. It is the way the world should work.

Secondly, Cambridge is pretty tame. I admit to being a country hick. In London, my natural state when out in public is to walk around with my eyes wide and darting, flinching from perceived threats, like a blind cat on a busy motorway. In Cambridge, it feels fine to roam the streets at night. After the TV taping in London last week, we didn't get back to Cambridge until well after midnight and I had to bike across town. Even the type of person who lurks on the streets of Cambridge after midnight on a weeknight seemed pretty benign. My flat is in the area of Cambridge that I was warned to stay away from. I asked my Irish flatmates if it is dangerous here, and they rolled on the floor laughing. Apparently, "Cambridge dangerous" is not on the same thing as "Ireland dangerous".

On Sunday I sat on the couch until 2pm, and then, disgusted at my inactivity, I put on my jacket and wandered through town to the Fitzwilliam Museum. For a small town museum, it was surprisingly well stocked. There is a temporary exhibition of gold jewellery taken from 2-millenia-old Georgian burial mounds that is really impressive.

Just down my street, there's a bookmaker shop and around the corner there's a woman in white, thigh-high boots on the curb (I wonder if she offers foot massages?). It sounds pretty rough, but now amend you mental picture of the street to show the next shop, which is called "Yuppy Puppy" and sells cardigans for dogs. Yes.

Cambridge is just flat-out cool. When I came here, I half expected to see groups of blonde Sebastian Flytes poling around punts, with Aloysiuses lolling dangerously at the prow of the boat. The people are actually pretty much the same drippy-nosed scruffs you see everywhere in England, but the punts and rowing sculls really are always out on the river. Last night I went for a walk after dark, and there were people rowing silently along the inky river, past a couple of white swans and some houseboats. It was serene.

If none of that sways you that this is a cool place, yesterday I realised that I didn't know what my flatmate does for a living. It turns out he's a student studying astro stuff. A couple of his friends are supervised by one Professor Hawking. I don't why Hawking's famous, but he's been on "the Simpsons" twice, so I'm impressed.

On a different note, I do miss antipodean company. Tomorrow I'm off to the pub to meet the members of the local Australian/NZ society. I hope no one mentions the cricket.

Now mu seum...

Today I decided to do something touristy, so I went to the British Museum. Why yes, now that you mention it, it is free.

Frankly, I think the collection should be classed as one of the wonders of the world. Whether you attribute it to an altruistic attempt to preserve the world's greatest relics, or you consider the British nothing shy of the most audacious thieves in history really doesn't matter once you get there. The fact is, it is a mind-blowing museum.

If it comprised of only the Elgin marbles, it would be an amazing display. If it was just the wing full of ancient Egyptian artifacts, it would impress. But to roam through them, and then the Babylonian, Greek, African, Asian, North American, European, and (my favourite) the Assyrian collection becomes overwhelming. There aren't enough hours in a day to see everything. I never even worked out if there's a Pacific wing. I expect there must be, tucked away somwhere, but I couldn't find it on any maps.

Anyway, cudos to the British for making it free to visit. I'm not sure that would happen anywhere else in the world. I'm not even sure there's another collection in the world to rival this one.

In other news, I have decided to leave my current temporary accomodation at the end of the week. It's not actually all that bad, but the little things are adding up. I haven't had asthma for maybe 15 years, but each time I lie down on the pillow here I lose my breath within seconds. It must be packed with dustmites or asbestos or something. There's something skittering around in my room at night. I was woken up this morning by something gnawing on the bed. Keira Knightley had already gone home, so I guess it was a mouse. The shower is a spray nozzle that is at the end of a long hose from the low taps. The shower head has a pin on it that fits into a small hole in the wall. The problem is that the shower has high pressure. This morning I lathered up in the shower, only for the shower head to launch itself, cobra-like, through the shower curtain onto my pile of clothes for the day. I guess they were extra clean after a jet hosing. My point is, you can only use the expression "Oh for f#!*s sake!" so many times before the novelty wears off.

Wow, this entry started off with abundant opulence and culture and rapidly decended to living in squalor and vermin. It's like a modern day "David Copperfield".