Found Art: White-washed window (June 26, 2010)

Walking around the town of Pezenas today, I came across a small closed-up shop with an interesting iron grill over the windows. The windows had been white-washed to hide the emptiness inside. I liked the pattern of the swirled white against the dark iron rods. Found art.

On the road (Europe 2010): Pouzolles, Pezenas

Spent a leisurely day yesterday seeing the village of Pouzolles after picking up our rental car, in Beziers, which is about half an hour away and the biggest town in the area. So far Pouzolles continues to conform to my first impression. The village is picturesque, but sleepy. Sometimes the picturesque is better passed through than lived in, but there is a wealth of things to do within a short drive of the village, so this makes an excellent base.

Yesterday, for example, we visited the Barrage des Olivettes, which is a small dam with a local swimming hole behind it. The dam creates a small reservoir with picnicking areas. Families were swimming. Some people were fishing. Others were just lolling on the grass. I enjoyed seeing the wildflowers. I noticed scabiosa, echiums, and chamomile growing wild. I saw a pretty yellow bird singing noisily up in one of the trees, a bird I've never seen before. A look in the bird book allowed me to identify it as a Serin, a common songbird in this area. Pied Wagtails were skimming over the water. A Hoopoe landed on the antenna of the neighboring house here after we got home. It was my first view of this very impressive bird, but he was gone before I could get my camera. I hope to get a better look at a Hoopoe soon.

Today we spent the day in Pezenas, a town about 10 miles to the east of Pouzolles. Today, Saturday, was market day. Each of the towns has its own market--sometimes more than once a week. Food sellers were offering the usual fruits, vegetables, fish, meats, bread products, and specialties such as olives, soaps (pictured), and candies and confections, but I can see already that it's more economical to shop for most food at the big supermarkets. Cheese and wine are much cheaper here than at home. I saw a wheel of Époisses today at the big Intermarché for €6 (the one I bought in Paris was €9). At home, at Whole Foods, the same piece of cheese would cost around four times as much. Today I bought four bottles of Cinsault rosé from local producers, which I plan to compare tomorrow evening, to start to get a feel for the wines being made here. The four bottles together cost the equivalent of about $12, and these were by no means the cheapest wines available. Other products are somewhat cheaper as well. All in all, I suspect it will cost less to live here than at home.

Pezenas is known for its antique shops, its market, and because Molière made Pezenas his home for a period and his company performed in the town from time to time. Pezenas is unusual also for a well preserved Jewish ghetto that appears to have been established in the 13th century. By the middle of the 16th, the Jewish population had been ejected, but the section of the town they built is still there. All over Pezenas are old stone buildings with interesting carvings, imposing doorways, and whimsical knockers on the doors. Many buildings have ornate wrought iron balconies. It was interesting just to wander around the streets. I particularly liked the heart-shaped carving on the door pictured here.

On the road (Europe 2010): Pouzolles--First Impressions

Pouzolles, halfway between Narbonne and Montpellier, and about 30 minutes from the Mediterranean Sea at Agde, is a little postcard of a town. The streets are narrow and hilly in places. The buildings are mostly built of stuccoed stone. There is a small 12th century church and a privately-owned 13th century chateau. There is not much here, really. There is not much to do. But that suits me fine. The plan is simply to live and work here over the summer and to travel a bit, as work permits.

There are three or four other villages in the immediate area accessible by bicycle or car that offer small shops, restaurants, and cafés (the photo shows the market at Servian this morning). There are stretches of neatly tended vineyard land between the villages. This area mostly produces the vin de pays Côtes de Thongue, which appears to allow a wide variety of grapes, including Grenache, Cinsault, Mourvedre, Viognier, and other varieties traditional in the Languedoc Rousillon area, as well as international varieties, such as Syrah, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Sauvignon Blanc, and Chardonnay. They seem to make a great deal of rosé here, which is nice to see, as I like rosé. The wines range widely in price, but some of it is surprisingly inexpensive; twice a week (Tuesday and Friday mornings) the local rosé is available from tanks (you bring your own container) at 6 euros for five liters--which works out to $1.37 a bottle--and it's quite drinkable. Until a month ago, I'm told, it was only 5 euros for five liters--and it had been for 14 years (what an outrageous price increase). As I begin to explore some of the wines of good reputation in the area, I will report.

Swifts, house martins, and barn swallows are everywhere. The swifts hunt incessantly over the rooftops. They are like black sickles in the sky. They dive and turn, beating their wings as fast as a bat and then they suddenly hold them still to glide in tight arcs for a moment before shooting off in a new direction, wings beating furiously again. The swifts and martins are nesting. The martins appear to make mud "pots" under the eaves of the buildings, similar to those made by our Cliff Swallows. The swifts disappear into cracks in buildings and other crevices. Walking in the more wooded areas, I've heard warblers, but I have yet to see any. They like to hide and tease with their songs--but I have yet to do any real exploring. So far on this trip I have added 13 birds to my life list nevertheless (Rock Pipit, Linnet, Greater Black-backed Gull, European Goldfinch, Wood Pigeon, Chaffinch, Jackdaw, European Blackbird, Black-headed gull, Coal Tit, House Martin, Common Swift, and the European Roller). I hope to add many more.

On the road (Europe 2010): Paris (continued)

On the 21st we visited La Sainte Chapelle, which is part of the complex of buildings remaining from the earliest development of Paris, on the Ile de la Cité. Sainte Chapelle, as the name suggests is a chapel, but it is perhaps unique in that it's two chapels built one on top of the other. The lower level was for parish services. The upper level was reserved for kings, queens, and other nobles and their guests. The construction dates to the 13th century, but there has been restoration, particularly in the 19th century. The upper level is considerably more sumptious than the lower, but even the lower level is ornate.

Both rooms are built to a simple plan—just a nave and apse. Although even the most delicate parts of the room on the lower level (the ribbed vaults and the pillars that support them) are made of stone, the entire interior is painted in blue, gold, green, and red, which creates a very different effect from a typical stone church interior. I have never seen anything quite like it. Are there other churches like this? I know that many old buildings we think of as being plain stone (such as the Acropolis at Athens) were once polychromed, but I don’t think I’ve ever read about a European Christian church decorated in this way. Come to think of it, some of the Greek churches of the Meteora are painted inside, but I don’t remember any of those being quite so sumptuous. Hmmmmm… A little research is in order.

I nearly missed it. There was a very long line. The delay to get in turned out to be almost entirely due to security—which was tighter than at any airport I’ve ever been to, with multiple bag checks as well as x-ray machines and armed guards. It was worth the wait, however. The upper chapel is entirely of stained glass from just above eye level to the top of the high walls that have very little apparent support. Exterior flying buttresses appear to hold it all up, but I’m no engineer.

There are at least 15 double stained glass panels around the chapel. Fourteen of these tell stories from the old and new testaments. The last one tells the story of the relics  that were originally enshrined here (now kept at Notre Dame)—supposedly a piece of the cross from the crucifixion and Christ's crown of thorns. Between each of the double panels is a statue of one of the 12 apostles. The altar and the back of the nave were obscured by scaffolding (more of those seemingly inescapable restoration works) but the room is magnificent nevertheless. Like the lower chapel, virtually every surface not glass is painted in blue and red and green or gilded. The floor is inlaid with greenery and animals in quadrefoil frames, although according to a friendly guard, the original chapel had a plain white marble floor. The floor now in place dates from restoration work done in the 19th century to repair destruction during the revolutionary period. The guard said that most of the decoration below the glass dates from this period, as does the bottom third of the glass panels. The remainder of the glass and several of the statues of the apostles date from the 13th century, making these the oldest stained glass windows in Paris.

Much as I enjoyed seeing La Sainte Chapelle, the long wait to get in cut into time allotted to seeing the Louvre again, which was a shame. Still, I got to see some of my favourite pieces in the place, particularly some of the collection of northern renaissance painting—the work of Holbein, Roger Van der Weyden, Memling and others—although some of these are a bit too early to be called Renaissance. Among the older French paintings (which on the whole bore me) I do like the Clouet portrait of Francois 1er and his queen, Élisabeth of Austria. I used to keep a postcard of her on my desk at work during my days as a securities analyst to remind me of things that seemed more substantial than facilitating the buying and selling of stocks. Among the Italian paintings, I concentrated on the Botticellis. There are a couple of wonderful Madonna and Child panels in the Louvre, among many other things. It’s funny that you can tell a Botticelli anywhere—always the same big eyes and pointed chin. Unlike the Orsay, the Louvre does allow photography (without flash), which makes it easy to remember interesting things by unfamiliar painters, such as this portrait of a woman by Jacob Claesz (known as Jacob of Utrecht).

The early evening was occupied with a walk through the streets around the church of St. Germain des Pres—the area I have always stayed in in Paris in the past. It hasn’t changed much. Streets like Rue de Buci, Rue Bonaparte, Rue de Seine, Rue Jacob, and others are still lined with art galleries, specialty shops, and a variety of fancy food shops. Like any big city, Paris has many faces, but this is Paris to me. I remembered the place in detail, down to the location of a plaque on Rue Jacob marking the spot where Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and John Jay signed the treaty with England that ended the Revolutionary War. I happened again across the little square where there is a museum in what was once a studio used by Delacroix. There was a music festival going on. Almost every corner had a group performing in the street. In the Church was an odd group made up of saxophone, flute, violin and several singers with ethereal voices.

Finally, had a very disappointing meal at Le Petit Zinc. This restaurant, with its beautiful art nouveau interior, used to be wonderful. It offered good food and excellent service, and it wasn’t especially expensive. We ate here often. This was meant to be our one night out in Paris at a good restaurant, having made our meals at home (lunch breakfast and dinner) at the apartment throughout the visit until this point, but, sadly, the food we made ourselves was better than the restaurant food.

The highlight was the wine, which, of course, would have been good at any restaurant—a Grand Cru Riesling from Alsace. The waiter originally brought a lesser wine by the same maker (the wine on the list was clearly marked Grand Cru). I suspect he thought I wouldn’t know the difference. When I pointed out that he had brought the wrong wine, he said “Oh, you want a Grand Cru?” as if he was surprised that I’d prefer the Grand Cru to the wine he had brought, as if I were somehow perverse for wanting the wine promised on the wine list. As for the food, it was served almost cold and it was indifferently prepared. The waitress was clumsy, and one of my oysters was spoiled. I spat it out (quietly, of course) but it left a bad taste in my mouth, as did the entire meal.

A real shame. I can no longer recommend Le Petit Zinc. Before leaving, I at least had the satisfaction of telling them what I thought. I hope it has some effect, for the sake of future diners—not that one comment is likely to make much of a difference. Well, another day, another dinner.

On the road (Europe 2010): Paris (Catacombs, Clignancourt, St. Denis, Eiffel Tower)

On Sunday the 20th , we started the day with a visit to the catacombs, the underground cemetery of Paris. In the late 1700s, one of Paris’s biggest cemeteries, the Cimetiere des Innocents was closed down at the request of the people that lived around it because it was contaminating water and causing disease. The authorities eventually decided the best thing to do was to dig up the entire thing and move the bodies. Paris has miles and miles of underground tunnels resulting from the quarrying of limestone for buildings and gypsum for plaster. Disused quarries under the city were chosen as the place to start moving the disinterred bones from the cemetery (and, later, from cemeteries all over the city as Haussmann’s plans to widen the boulevards and make other changes necessitated the clearing of many areas). The first bones were deposited in the early 1780s, although the earliest markers I found in the catacombs were from 1786. At first the bones were unceremoniously dumped, but soon afterwards the workers began to deposit the bones in a more orderly fashion, using the long bones from the legs and skulls (which both stack well) to form walls behind which the other bones were piled up. Some 6 million people are said to be buried (if that’s the right word) in the catacombs, including a few famous people, such as Rameau, although no one knows where the luminaries are at this point. It wasn’t very creepy, despite the many skulls. The neatly stacked bones leave a fairly abstract impression. 

We next went to Clignancourt, to one of Paris’s major Sunday flea markets. There are many vendors set up in the streets selling mostly jeans, T-shirts, and sunglasses, and other tourist items, but there is also an indoor area with many, many stalls offering better items, mostly antiques and memorabilia. There were stores selling everything from theater fixtures to furniture to African art to Hollywood movie posters. Spent a pleasant few hours there.

Later we went to St. Denis, a northern suburb of Paris, not far from Clignancourt. We visited the Basilica of St. Denis and the royal tombs there. Nearly all of France’s kings and queens (not to mention many princes, princesses, and other nobles) were buried here, going back to people like Clovis, who reigned in the 600s. Apparently the bodies are mostly gone--having been dug up and dumped in mass graves during the Revolution--but the stone sarcophagi (nearly all with a recumbent figure of the occupant--Henry II in the photo here) are there in their original positions. The church itself is pretty--much more delicate and open than I was expecting, with fully developed flying buttresses. This is usually said to be the first Gothic-style cathedral. Nearly all of the original stained glass has been removed for restoration. It’s been replaced for the time being with photographic reproductions of the glass, which sounds horrible, but it’s actually very difficult to tell--which is remarkable in itself. Nowhere can you get close enough to examine the surfaces, but I doubt you’d  know if you didn’t already know.

After dinner, went to the highest level of the Eiffel Tower for the first time. When I’ve been there in the past, the upper deck has always been closed. The view from the lower deck is fairly impressive, but the top allows you to see virtually all of Paris. There were crowds even at midnight. The area around the tower is swarming with vendors, mostly Africans, all selling identical souvenirs. I wonder why no one tries anything original? In the photo here, the beam of the tower spotlights is passing by.

On the road (Europe 2010): Paris (Musée d'Orsay)

Spent most of the day at the Musée d’Orsay on the 18th. It was fun to see some old friends for the first time in many years (familiar paintings, that is) and to see some things I didn’t remember at all. There were a few new acquisitions as well, notably four large paintings by Bouguereau--of subjects rather more serious than the pretty young women he’s best known for.

Impressionism has become a cliché--if an entire art movement can become a cliché. But I suppose we can’t blame it for its own success, just as we can’t blame Vivaldi’s Four Seasons concertos for their popularity. What is best of Impressionism retains its interest. Having said that, I most enjoyed seeing work by Cezanne, Gauguin, and Degas (more post-impressionist), especially the good collection of Degas pastels.

There was an interesting special exhibit of work by Meijer de Haan, a dutch painter I’d never heard of. He started out in Amsterdam painting Jewish life in that city in a rather dark, traditional style. Like Van Gogh, his first trip to Paris, where he met many of the avant garde painters of the day through Theo Van Gogh, was a revelation. His style appears to have changed almost overnight. His later works suggest Gauguin, but have their own look, of course. He appears to have been a good friend of Gauguin and even considered accompanying him to Tahiti, but didn’t. The Orsay allows no photography, so I can’t show you any of his work, but I’ve reproduced the poster here.

Later in the day, we visited the Conciergerie, which is one of those buildings that has led so many lives that it’s hard to keep track of, but during The Terror, this was the place that held prisoners awaiting the guillotine. Marie Antionette spent her last days here, as did Robespierre himself--among a couple thousand others. The place was otherwise interesting for its ribbed vaults and large fireplaces. 

 Stopped by Notre Dame, but there was a very long line (which I’ve never seen before), so gave up on that idea, but did walk around the outside a bit. There were many catalpa trees blooming in the streets around the cathedral and in the area around the famous flower market, which were pretty. ­I captured a funny scene outside the cathedral, a father trying to take a picture of his little daughter. 

On the road (Europe 2010): Paris (Sennelier)

A short walk along the Seine down the Quai Voltaire from the Musée d'Orsay is Sennelier, one of Paris's oldest and best art supply stores. They make some of the best printmaking inks in the world. I have always used them. It was a great pleasure to set foot in this shop again for the first time in many years. I bought a sketch pad, a beautiful handmade watercolor brush and some ink. The racks of pastels were art in themselves. More found art.

On the road (Europe 2010): Paris (Versailles)

Versailles was a disappointment--nearly everything that was once in the place was carted away during the Revolution, so it seems sparsely furnished relative to the sumptuous shell that’s left. It was, of course, interesting to see, although once again rather poorly labeled given that it’s a World Heritage Site. There are extensive galleries of paintings, mostly portraits, for example, but it’s very difficult to tell who is who, because the labels are small, hard to read, and obscured by the crowds.  I noticed that most of the visitors walked through these galleries fairly quickly and with a bewildered look. The very large paintings by David in the room devoted to Napoleon, however, are easy to see and quite impressive.

I don’t suppose anyone needs me to point out that Versailles is gilded and grandiose. It’s easy to see why even kings and queens tired of it and spent much of their time in the simpler (although still grand) complexes a short walk from the main palace—the Grand Trianon and the Petit Trianon. Given a choice, I’d prefer living in the Hameau, Marie Antoinette’s purpose-built farming hamlet just beyond the Petit Trianon. She had this village constructed on a whim to get a taste of the country life, which was a fashionable thing to do among the super-wealthy of the day. I suppose history might have been different if her little concoction had allowed her to understand what the life of the common people was like, although surely these houses were bigger, better equipped, and cleaner than real country houses. I found the hamlet interesting, though. It had twelve large country-style houses. There was a pigeon house, an apiary, a full dairy, and much else around the buildings, including hay fields, extensive vegetable gardens and flower gardens—all with a stream running through it. There must have been “farmers” that lived there to make the whole thing run. The royal families and their guests could come and milk a cow or do other chores for the novelty of it, but they didn’t really have to get themselves dirty if they didn’t want to. I think a good argument could be made for calling this the first theme park (are there earlier developments of this type? It wouldn't surprise me to learn that the Chinese or the Romans had something akin to theme parks).

The gardens in the hamlet were prettier than the austerely formal plantings around the main palace. I can’t say I cared much for the carefully clipped hedges, vast lawns (on which you're forbidden to walk), and rows of pollarded trees that make up most of the main gardens. They are impressive mostly for their scale; the gardens seem to go on forever. The area called “The King’s Garden” was perhaps the most appealing. Nearly all the walkways are simply made of crushed stone. Considering the wealth of the royal families that built Versailles and lived in it over the years, it seems odd that they never thought to pave any of it with stone. Stonework might have added some to the visual interest of the place. Taken as a whole, Versailles was worth the visit, though. I even got to see a few birds, although none well enough to identify except for those I’ve already figured out. There were mostly a few very vocal Chaffinches, blackbirds, and some crows, but there were also swallow-like birds (the one new bird I did figure out--the Common House Martin), a tit of some sort, a warbler I couldn’t identify, Moorhens on the water at the hamlet, and a rosy bird that looked like it may have been a Linnet. I hope to do the first real birding of the trip soon in the south of France or Spain.

On the road (Europe 2010): Paris

Arrived in Paris on the 16th in the early afternoon. We are now settled into the apartment we are borrowing here, which is in the 16^th Arrondissement, near Trocadero, just across the river from the Eiffel Tower (the top of which is visible from the windows). From just a brief walk around the neighborhood I can see this is a rather well heeled section of the city with many upscale shops. Had a leisurely breakfast yesterday morning from walnut bread, peaches, apricots, strawberries, and yogurt picked up at some of the little specialty food shops nearby.

Yesterday afternoon it rained, so it seemed sensible to do something indoors, such as see the military museum at Les Invalides, which has a fabulous collection of arms and armor from all over the world, from medieval times through the modern period. Some of the armor made for the kings is spectacular. There is a complete collection of the uniforms of the French army, mostly on life-sized mannequins, some mounted on horses, also fully decked out as they would have been. Napoleon’s white horse Vizir is here, stuffed. Every sort of dagger, sword, spear and bludgeon you can imagine is on display, along with bows, arrows, quivers, and shields—not to mention pistols, muskets, rifles, and cannons of every kind. It’s well worth a visit even if you have no interest in military history per se. The time and resources that went into making such beautiful objects of death and destruction is remarkable. Seems strange to devote so much energy—love, almost—to the production of such exquisite objects meant only to kill and destroy.

Napoleon’s tomb is also here—a giant red stone sarcophagus on a high pedestal with a circular gallery around it on two levels. On the upper level are the tombs of various other military notables, among them Marechal Foch, who I remember chiefly because there is a grape variety named after him. It was fun to see the famous Ingres portrait of the Emperor Napoleon again. The displays have been updated since I was last here, but there is still little explanation in anything but French. Interesting nevertheless. This is another place you could devote several days to if you wanted to. There is a whole floor of models of forts that I didn’t even look at this time, and a section on the two world wars that there was no time for either.

Later picked up food for dinner at Lafayette and looked briefly at Printemps--two of the fancy department stores in Paris--French versions of Harrod’s. Lafayette had a pretty amazing wine collection, including such things as Mouton Rothschild back to 1918 and similar offerings of all the first growth Bordeaux wines, along with d’Yquem. There were bottles costing as much as $6,000. I remember a time when many of these wines were affordable, or within my reach anyway. I’m grateful to have had the chance to taste so many of them when I did. Today the plan is to go to Versailles. 

On the road (Europe 2010): English House Names

The English certainly do like to name their buildings. Rather than street names and numbers, the buildings very often have names--even the most modest of buildings. I came across this one in St. Ives earlier in the week. I'm sure there's a story here, but I'm not so sure this is the greatest name for a house.

Found Art: St. Ives Wall Markings (June 17, 2010)

Throughout England I kept seeing these metal plates on the walls with an H and numbers. Sometimes they are brand new, sometimes apparently old, like this one in St. Ives. I don't know what they're for. I'll have to ask Jonathan. This one was particularly interesting against its brightly painted backdrop. Found art.

[Update: My English sources tell me the H stands for hydrant, the upper number for the diameter of the pipe in inches and the lower number for the distance, in meters, from the location of the plaque. This is necessary because the hydrants are buried and hidden behind a cover, unlike ours, which stick up from the ground, making them obvious without an indicator of any sort.]

Found Art: London Tube Poster (June 17, 2010)

Walking through London's Waterloo Station the other day, I noticed this poster hiding behind layers of other posters added and removed. Not intended as art, but beautiful in its own way.

On the road (Europe 2010): London

Spent a hectic day in London today visiting museums. One day is hardly enough to see even one of London's great museums but I have been to the British Museum and the National Gallery before and mostly knew what I wanted to see.

Saw the British Museum in the morning, looking mostly at the low reliefs of King Ashurbanipal's lion hunt, from Ninevah. I'm not sure exactly why I like these so much. The carving is fabulous and it's hard not to feel for the poor lions. I suppose that's enough. I find the arrow-pierced lioness dragging her paralyzed rear legs particularly beautiful. I was very pleased to be able to see her again--still in her death agony.

By chance, there was a traveling exhibit of Ife sculptures on view. These are another great favorite of mine, but I'd seen them only in photographs until today. The bronze heads are wonderfully life-like yet abstract at the same time because of the use of striations on the faces and because of the series of holes in nearly all of them. The holes are usually at the hairline or around the mouth or both. It's not clear exactly what they were used for, apparently, but the most logical explanation seems to be that textiles of some sort were once attached at these points. The diversion to London was worth it just to have been able to see the Ife heads for the first time.

At the National Gallery, I got to see a few more old favorites--notably Holbein's "The Ambassadors," his portrait of Christina of Denmark, Jan van Eyck's "Arnolfini Portrait," "The Rokeby Venus," and others. The National Gallery allows no photography at all, anywhere--which is annoying. At the very least I like to take shots of the information tags of unfamiliar paintings by unfamiliar artists. It makes it so much easier to remember things. I guess they do it to promote sales of post cards and catalogs--so I didn't buy either.

Later in the day, it was the Natural History Museum. I had never seen this one before--or had I? When I lived briefly in England as a child, my parents may have taken me and my brother here (I’ll have to check with my mother on that one--Mom?). Since childhood I have had a vivid image in my head of a great hall of fabulous rock and mineral specimens in cabinets very much like the second-floor hall of specimens here.


I had always thought it was the Smithsonian, which we also visited as children, or the American Museum of Natural History, in New York. When I last visited the American Museum, however, I found nothing there that matched my mental image the way the rock and mineral hall here did. The moment I walked into the room, I felt like I was in a place I had been before. I haven’t been back to the Smithsonian since my childhood visit. The space I remember may well be the one in Washington, but there was something deeply familiar about this place. Memory is a funny thing. In any case, I enjoyed seeing the specimens of many colors and textures all labeled and ordered according to their chemical compositions.


On the first floor are many excellent fossils, including some of those collected at Lyme Regis and Charmouth by Mary Anning. There is a collection of bird specimens and skeletons of extinct species including a giant sloth and a dodo. There is a whole preserved coelacanth specimen and a fossilized one to compare it with--and much, much more.

The building is as interesting as the collections it houses. It's covered inside and out with low reliefs and full sculptures of all kinds of animals, living and extinct. Almost every surface is covered with sculpture or abstract decoration. According to the information desk, the building was built over seven years and opened in 1881. It's a metal structure, but the metal supporting framework is visible only under the stairways and in some of the exposed arches in the main hall. Otherwise, the metal is entirely clad in the terra cotta of the decorations. The firm that did the original work is still in operation and is occasionally called upon to reproduce a damaged tile or sculpture. In the main hall near the entrance there is a series of terra cotta monkeys at intervals from waist height up to the ceiling clinging to a strip of vertical molding made to resemble a plant. Apparently schoolchildren are tempted to try to climb this by grabbing on to the first of the monkeys and a head gets lost. My photo doesn’t do the place justice.

If all that weren’t enough, we also spent about an hour walking around the Food Halls at Harrod’s--an attraction in itself. These rooms, too, are wonderfully decorated in tiles themed appropriately to the different departments--one for fish and seafood, one for meats, one for candies and confections, among others. They all have counters and bars to eat at, most with beautiful brass and marble stools. I was sorely tempted by the Champagne and caviar. Other parts of the store are Egyptian themed. Are there any department stores like this left in the US? By that I mean old-fashioned department stores that still have specialty departments like cameras or musical instruments, etc. staffed with people that are not only attentive but know the goods they sell and appear genuinely interested in helping. There were stores like this in the US as late as the 1970s even in a modest regional city like Dayton, Ohio, but I haven’t seen one in years. It was like going back in time.

It was fun to ride the tube again for the first time in many years, too. Finally, we took a late night walk down to Westminster Abbey and the area around Westminster Bridge to get a good look at the Houses of Parliament and the tower that houses Big Ben. Got to bed much too late considering the early hour of the flight to Paris the next morning.

On the road (Europe 2010): Lyndhurst, HMS Victory, London

Slept last night in Lyndhurst, in the New Forest, at a nice little hotel called Whitemoor House. Having learned that the grave of Alice Liddell was in the nearby church of St. Michael & All Saints, we went to have a look. Apparently Alice got tired later in life of being known as Alice of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. She was cremated when she died and asked that her grave be marked with her married name--Mrs. Reginald Hargreaves, but the spot today is marked with what looks like a recent stone that points out that she was the famous Alice. I hope she doesn't mind.

The grave itself is not much to see. Besides the marker, there is just a low stone enclosure overgrown with white roses. The church is rather more interesting. The pathway leading up to the building is paved with old headstones, which seemed a bit unfair to the people whose graves they once marked. I found it hard to walk on them, so I walked up the lawn beside the path. The Church of St. Michael & All Saints is Victorian, so not very old as English churches go, but I've never seen one quite like it. It has fine brickwork inside and out, excellent wooden carvings of angels in the interior, some good stained glass windows, and a beautiful vaulted ceiling of wood that looks like the hull of a boat. I know that wood from the New Forest was used in boat building. I wonder if the carpenters that worked on this church were influenced by that tradition? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is also buried nearby, but the village where his grave is supposed to be is so poorly marked that we failed to find it.

The afternoon was spent visiting HMS Victory, Nelson's flagship at the Battle of Trafalgar, lanched in 1765 and still technically an active military vessel (the oldest in the world). I found it rather moving to stand on the spot where he was shot on the deck and, below, to walk on the original timbers of his famous ship (the timber of the upper decks has been replaced). The Victory is in many ways primitive, but it remains impressive for its sheer firepower (something like 110 guns) and the many devices and adaptations on the ship designed to make it a highly effective fighting machine. Visiting the HMS Warrior (of 1860) nearby made it doubly impressive as, 100 years later, the gun decks of the Warrior were essentially the same design as those of Victory.

By Evening, we were in London for a very brief stay. Had a simple but tasty Italian dinner at Ciao Bella, not far from the hotel, which is a short walk from Bloomsbury Square. Tomorrow, if time permits, I hope to see some of the British Museum and the National Gallery.

On the road (Europe 2010): Lyme Regis

I spent nearly the whole day today on the beach at Lyme Regis looking for fossils. After some friendly pointers from the very helpful people at the Tourist Information Office, we set out. At first it wasn't entirely clear where the best spots were, but it quickly became apparent that the best rocks are higher up the beach rather than down by the water. The veteran beachcomber in me was stuck far too long at the water's edge. Under the lead-colored cliffs is a jumble of worn stone of two or three sorts. Some of it is chalk/flint similar to what I've seen elsewhere along the coast. Some looks like mudstone or very worn limestone. Some is a harder, bluish-grey rock (although still quite soft) that seems to yield the fossils. There were rocks with ammonites as big as two feet across, but most were palm-of-the hand size or smaller. They are abundant and free for the taking, but most are in large rocks too big to carry away. They actually encourage you to take what you find, but ask that you register anything rare or unusual (I wonder how the casual visitor knows what's worth registering?). There are fossil hunting beaches also at the next town along the coast, Charmouth.

I love the lampposts in the town. They are adorned with ammonites in ironwork, which is a very nice touch. Besides the fossils, the town is (and has long been) known as a beach resort, but it also has a very active fishing harbor surrounded mostly by the old stone pier known as The Cobb. Lyme Regis is the setting for John Fowles's novel The French Lieutenant's Woman. It's at the end of this pier that the title character stands looking out to sea awaiting the return of the Lieutenant. This is also the scene of Louisa Musgrove's accident in Jane Austen's Persuasion. Austen visited here. Whistler apparently visited as well. The town retains its old-fashioned charm without being stuffy. I rather liked Lyme Regis.

On the road (Europe 2010): St. Ives, The Lizard, Cornwall

Spent most of yesterday in St. Ives. Visited the Barbara Hepworth Museum and the Leach Pottery, as well as many good galleries in the museum areas (as opposed to the tourist galleries down by the water). The Hepworth studio and home has been left almost exactly as it was when she died there in a fire (photo at left)--although there are no signs of fire anywhere. Had excellent ice cream at Willy Waller's Ice Cream, the best I've tasted so far in Cornwall.

Later in the day went to Kynance Cove--which is a beautiful inlet carved by the waves out of green and purple serpentine. I was hoping to see a chough--Cornwall's near-extinct cliff-dwelling bird--black with a distinctive red bill and red feet, but there were none to be seen. I had been told that this area (the whole peninsula is known as The Lizard for reasons I've yet to ascertain) was the one place in Cornwall that it might be possible. It was mostly jackdaws in the air and the ever-present herring gulls. The water was turquoise, the hills around the cove dotted with white and orange lichen-encrusted rocks.

Now in Lyme Regis for a day of fossil hunting.

On the road (Europe 2010): St. Michael's Mount, St. Hilary, Land's End, Cornwall

Yesterday I visited St. Michael's Mount, a short walk at low tide across the bay from Marazion. The castle is of some interest, but the place interested me mostly for its view of the coast all around and its very pretty gardens. I can see that the nursery trade is truly international today. Nearly everything growing in the gardens is available at our local nurseries in California--plants from all over the world. Many European goldfinches and a noisy wren were singing in the trees. Barn swallows everywhere. Jackdaws everywhere as well.

Later visited the village of St. Hilary, a bit further up the coast, after a good lunch at the Mount Haven Hotel, which has a wonderful terrace that overlooks the bay and St. Michael's Mount. St. Hilary has a pretty church with a spire, which I'm told is rather unusual in Cornwall. According to my research, many of my ancestors were married at this church. There was no one there to ask about records, but a small sign noted that they are kept elsewhere, at the County Record Office, Truro, TR1 3AY. The graveyard around the church had many gravestones with family names on them. There is a nice sundial over the church door. Earlier in the day I walked around the graveyard at the Quaker meeting house in Marazion, which also had headstones with family names.

Finally went to Land's End, which is built up with commercial trash that is best ignored. Beyond the trashy tourist traps is a spectacular coast with beautiful walks. The rocks are covered with amazing lichens. Many wildflowers were in bloom, including drifts of sea thrift. Mostly herring gulls and jackdaws in the air, but saw a small kestrel-like bird hunting, a puffin-like bird (razorbill?), and cormorants or shags on the rocks, but they were too far away to identify with any confidence.

Dinner at Ben's Cornish Kitchen in Marazion was so good last night that we ate there again. The chef--Ben, presumably--is gifted. Everything was wonderful. I chose an English sparkling wine with some skepticism, but it turned out to be very good. We had a bottle of the Camel Valley Brut. It smelled of Granny Smith apples and fresh bread dough. For some reason, I thought specifically of potato rolls. Very dry and crisp but with creamy undertones. Very fine, persistent bubbles. Everything a good sparkling wine should be. Excellent. Today, St. Ives and then heading toward Lyme Regis.

On the road (Europe 2010): Radioactive Bellybuttons

I see warnings all over the towns here to beware of men with radioactive bellybuttons. I'm being very careful....

On the road (Europe 2010): Marazion, Cornwall

Finally feeling a bit rested. Now ensconced in a nice little hotel (The Marazion Hotel--ask for room 10). With our own house in the US rented out and car rentals here sorted out, I'm finally beginning to relax. Marazion is the town that most of my ancestors are from on one side of my mother's family. I had no idea that they had lived in such a pretty place. The town is one of the oldest in Britain, according to a stone monument I saw last night, having been recognized by royal charter in 1257. The church and other buildings on St. Michael's Mount trace their origins to a monastery of the 9th century, although the castle there today is from a later period.

The town overlooks Mount's Bay at the foot of St. Michael's Mount, accessible by foot when the tides are low enough to reveal a serpentine path of stonework. Today will be a day of exploring the island and the town itself. The sun is out this morning, a great improvement from the overcast and drizzle of yesterday.

Wonderful meal last night a short walk from the hotel at Ben's Cornish Kitchen. I had an appetizer of local mackerel with an olive and sun-dried tomato salsa on garlic toast and a main dish of pork prepared three ways--pork belly, loin of pork, and a pork sausage with an apple compote and Calvados sauce. Yummy. Other selections had a wonderful watercress-mayonnaise-mustard sauce. Delicious. Highly recommended if you find yourself in the area.

I saw my first authentic English (well, cornish) chaffinch last night. A very pretty bird.