Scott: Final Thoughts

Time to close up this blog for good. Winging our way over the Atlantic, I'm excited to be going home, returning to the land where garbage bags open and sandwich bags close. The first thing I plan to do when I arrive home is shop for groceries. It will be a pleasure to look for products where they "ought" to be--at least according to American logic. Whatever I buy, be it sugar located next to flour, or mustard located next to ketchup, I'm going to buy a lot of it, just because I know I'm not limited to what I can carry. But that's not to say I'm not going to miss this place as well. Mostly, I'll miss our daily, hourly and minute-by-minute talks as a family about the interesting, funny and culturally diverse things we see and experience. For sure, I'll miss the tubes, busses and trains which take nearly all the hassle out of transportation. But most of all, I think I'll the vibrancy of the city, a byproduct of its multiculturalism, its culture of youth, its throngs of tourists from every corner of the globe and its financiers who seek to dominate the world from this tiny little spit of land. They are giants in their own way. If I've learned anything on this trip, it is that this "green and pleasant land" is a lot more than just a pastoral setting steeped in history. Sure, it's filled with quirky people with quirky ways, but don't let the batty lords, the tattling tabloids and bad-boy royals define British existence: Despite its pretensions, Britain is indeed the center of the world, just as it has been for centuries. If London were an organ, I'm pretty sure it would be the brain--the nerve center of the global body. As I return home to the "little finger" of the planet's, I'll treasure my time here. It has given me valuable space for reflection, relaxation and refinement of values and perceptions. Although I've been a student of British history and British culture all my life, I've always been baffled by the dualing reputations of Britain as a place of cutthroat capitalism and a culture of spirit-dulling socialism. I didn't think they could co-exist, but I've found that they do. Britain, it turns out, is a and of surprising innovation often held back from being all it could become by its deep-rooted reverence for traditions and institutions. Yet it is that very reverence which gives it the sense of rootedness that allows it to remain stable in the face of the gale winds of change. In some ways, I think Britain is all the America wants to be, and all that American's abhor wrapped up in a single place. It is always said that it is easiest to hate most the things you love best. That is the British-American relationship. Separated by history we are inextricably conjoined by culture and mutual fascination. Like a pair of siblings locked in eternal rivalry we disparage each other even as we stand together bound by ties of mutual affection and admiration. We are indeed, two branches growing from a common tree each producing fine fruit which tempts the palate of the rest of the world.

Laura's List: Things I'm Going To Miss

I'm going to miss the time I had with my husband and my little girls. I'm going to miss our wonderful flat. I'm going to miss my friend Kristin. And, last but not least, I'm going to miss the British Museum and Boots cosmetics. And I'm definitely going to miss the wonderful education that London afforded me on a daily basis. Here are some of the things that struck me.

11. The British are the most polite subway riders I've ever experienced (at least in comparison to Tokyo, New York, D.C., Pittsburgh, San Francisco and Paris). In particular, the women are very likely to give up a seat to an elderly person, a pregnant woman or a little girl who appears in danger of being accidentally trampled during rush hour.
10. The Brits definitely have a "glass half empty" attitude. I'd call them pessimists (though they would say "realist"), while we Americans are basically optimists.
9. London women are wonderfully fashion-forward. The men? No so much.
8. England is not known for its food. Nor should it be.
7. You can understand American culture and attitudes better for studying British history, culture and attitudes.
6. The iconic red phone booths were modeled after a tomb! Giles Gilbert Scott was inspired by the mausoleum that Sir John Soane designed for his beloved wife when she died in 1815.
5. Queen Elizabeth I and her half-sister, Queen Mary I, so different and so estranged in life were actually buried together (though not by choice) in a side chapel of Westminster Abbey.
4. Most of the museums in London are free. The British Museum, which boasts the Rosetta Stone, the largest collection of mummies outside of Cairo and the Elgin Marbles (which the Greek government would dearly love to have back) is an especially good bargain with zero admission!
3. The weather in London in March is fantastic -- moderate temperatures and sunny days. We didn't believe the guidebooks, but they were right. And with tourism at its lowest point in the year, it's an ideal time to visit.
2. The British do not talk to strangers. It's simply not done. If you trip and smack your head on the pavement, they will politely step around you. But they won't talk to you. Trust me. This is not a hypothetical.
1. The Brits love to queue. Seriously. It's in their blood. If you stop anywhere, pretty soon, you'll have 3 or 4 people lined up behind you. I've seen folks with one item wait 20 minutes in a grocery check-out line. In the U.S., we'll put that item down among the checkstand magazines and walk out after about 90 seconds. As one woman said to me, "Well if you wait in line, there must be something really fantastic at the front."

Goodbye, Good Friends

The Williams's, our dear friends who greeted us on arrival, also dropped by to say farewell.

They've been so much a part of our lives for three months, it is hard to imagine life without them, but we look forward to their return stateside sometime in the next few years. Above, front row from left Cecily, Rhys and Gwyneth; Back row, from left, Meredith, Olivia and the 5-year-old slayer of female hearts, the indefatigable Owain.

We A-Mews Ourselves On Our Last Day

Oxford beat Cambridge in the big race along the Thames which took place right behind our house today, but we weren't there to see it. We took one look at the crowd of rowdy twenty-somethings headed for the river with enormous quanitities of booze and decided we could spend our time more productively. This being our last day in London, we decided to return to one of our favorite places, Southwark Cathedral, for morning services. The best moment of that was when Cecily decided, uncharasterically, to lend her voice to the hymns and did a pretty good job of carrying the tune! Our next stop was the Royal Mews--the stables adjacent to Buckingham Palace. This was a place Olivia had wanted to go from the start of our visit, and she (and we) were dismayed to find that it is closed for the first three months of every year. Fortunately, the re-opening day turned out to be March 28, so on our last day, we were able to give Olivia her wish. Both she and her sisters enjoyed looking at the horses and were fascinated to learn that the Queen names each one. Olivia thought it was cool that when the queen visits, the stablemaster has to follow her around with a silver tray of carrots and sugar cubes. Also stored at the mews are the amazing royal coaches, including the 4-ton state coach gilded in solid gold (shown at left with Meredith in front.) This amazing piece was built by George III and has only been used four times in the long reign of Queen Elizabeth II. It was a great way to end our visit. For the rest of the afternoon, the girls went for a goodbye play date with Owain, Gwyneth and Rhys while Mom and Dad went home to finish packing. All that remains at this point of our presence at our wonderful little house in London is an enormous pile of luggage in the hallway awaiting the arrival of the car tomorrow.

Olivia's Journal: The Britash Brain

Olivia's final homework project was to map the British brain, showing those quirky nodes which we have observed here that are not shared by American cousins across the pond. After three months of keen observation, here are her cryptic notes transcribed from above (with interpretetation added in brackets by the editor as needed.)

The Britash Brain

queen

rain

pubs

tea

queuing

football "soccer"

hate french; love french things

love cheap stinky cheese

after o, ad u [as in colour, flavour, labour and favour]

small gardens

horses

crickat

We may have a budding sociologist on our hands!

Shepherd's Bush Market

As our time in London comes to a close, we are still in search of a few last adventures, preferably from the girls' standpoints those that don't include more museums. We got one today with a visit to Shepherd's Bush Market. The market is just a few tube stops from our house. It is nothing formal--just a long-row of shops build under the elevated tube line with row of stalls our front. But it is a world away from a trip to a sanitized supermarket or general goods store environment. The market seems to cater primarily to the African and Middle Eastern populations of London. There is a whole store dedicated to Middle Eastern bridalwear, including brightly jeweled tiaras and crowns of many varities, which the girls thought were the perfect choice for an up-and-coming princess. The grocery was full of things like yam flour and big containers of palm oil and all sorts of other products you just don't see at Sainsbury's. Persian-inspired carpets competed with bejewelled furniture and clothing and there various shops selling headresses and burkhas for women. Right in the middle in a strangely discordant location, there is a shop selling London souvenir paraphenalia and Christian-inspired wares includes crucifixes, rosarys, icons, statuettes and incense censors. At every turn we saw something interesting presenting another opportunity to emphasize to the girls that we have to share the planet with many cultures other than our own.

A Farewell Dinner

Our primary reason for visiting Shepherd's Bush Market was to see it, but we also had a practical purpose: we were checking out the possibilities in order to complete our grocery shopping for a farewell dinner party we were throwing tonight for our friends Kristin and Gareth who have done so much to make this trip possible. One of the advantages of having a house instead of a hotel is that one can entertain one's friends in style, and we wanted to make the most of it. So we "put on the dog" and used every available dish for a big bash. Shepherd's Bush turned out to be a big help because it has a fish market which offers fresh catch at ridiculously low prices--f20 for a bag of prawns and four fat frozen salmon steaks. One person can hardly get a hamburger for tht price in this town, muchless four. With our company well fed, we enjoyed a great evening of conversation, storytelling of reminisces and current events. Gareth held us enthralled as he explained that the animosity between the city's financial community and the anti-capitalists which has everyone excited as the G20 Summit approaches actually has deep roots. Apparently, we have these marches, smaller in scale, frequently, and the usual response of the financial crowd is to hang out of the balconies of their buildings and throw f20 notes down on the marchers and laugh while the marchers show their hypocrisy as they scramble to grab them. We broke up the party just before midnight, wondering why we hadn't found the time to do this more often over three months.

Let's Talk About Succession

Prime Minister Gordon Brown's unpopularity took another hit yesterday as Britain was unable to seld a bond issue amidst increasing fears that the government hasn't the ability to pay back its debts. So what does a government do to distract the public? Turn its attention to the royal family, of course. An item in The Telegraph this morning announces that the PM is meeeting with the palace to discuss plans to amend the Settlement Act of 1701 to allow two major changes: to allow those in the line of succession to marry Roman Catholics and to allow women to succeed to the throne on an equal basis with men. Presently, women can inherit the throne but only behind their brothers. The Act has implications because if it were retroactive, the Princess Anne and her children would leapfrog Andrew and Edward and their children, upsetting the line established for half a century. Such a move would have international implications since the sovereign also is nominally head of state for the the Commonwealth nations. Objections are expected when the prime minister addresses the issue at an upcoming Commonwealth conference. But other news indicates it may be time to scrap the girl-boy distinction anyway. Prince Harry--always good for a laugh--was captured on camera yesterday stumbling out of a nightclub with the fingers on one hand painted a bright shade of pink and the tops of his pink boxers clearly showing.

We Swoon Over Swan Lake

As we prepare to return to regular life, dance practice is top of mind for both Olivia and Meredith who will be performing in recital in just seven weeks. So it was with considerable interest that Olivia, accompanied by Dad, attended a matinee performance of Swan Lake this afternoon at the Coliseum Theater, right off Trafalgar Square. There are actually two performances of Swan Lake being staged in London at the moment, the other being at the Royal Opera by the Royal Ballet. Unfortunately, tickets are sold out at the Opera House. So we went to the other one: a limited engagement performance by the American Ballet. Exactly why this company of international dance stars, most of the principals of which are not American-born, is called the "American" ballet beats me, but it was an inspired performance in a great venue. Olivia, to her Dad's surprise, proved to be already familiar with the plot line and some of the libretto. Apparently, her dance class frequently dances to some of the movements, and she has watched a video of the performance in school or dance class previously. I guess you have to get completely away from home sometimes to find out exactly what your children are doing!

Olivia's Journal: Swan Lake

Oliva prepares a blog while sitting on the bean bag. Note the ingenious method of holding the pencil and eraser.

Today I went to the Swan Lake ballet. Here are som tips on dancing Swan Lake.
#1. Get some boys.
#2. Have beutiful sets.
#3. Have an orcistra.
#4. Get good seats.
#5. Do something difrent.
Here are some ways to dance Swan Lake.
--Spin on one foot 80 times without puting your foot down.
--Stand on your toe, put one foot ont he ground and put the other one by your ear.

I loved Swan Lake.

Roll A Seven, Come Up Craps

With Scott and Olivia enjoying the rarified atmosphere of the Coliseum Theater, Laura decided to pursue a little culture on her own--at the British Museum, of course. Surely, she reasoned, there is at least one gallery that she failed to visit on one of her six previous trips. Off she went, five-year-old Meredith and three-year-old Cecily in tow. Remarkably, Meredith seemed okay with the idea of yet another trip to this place, but Cecily was a troublemaker from the start. The fact that she didn't have her faithful horse (Dad) to ride around on only made her attitude worse. Mom, ever keen to not give in to the domestic terrorist of the household, doggedly plowed through the exhibit anyway. Cecily made her displeasure known for the duration of the visit but saved her revenge for last: after 81 days of good behavior and three "false-alarm" trips to the bathroom this afternoon with Mom, she finally chose her underpants as the venue for her delivery while walking toward home from the tube station. With that unpleasantness, Laura is suddenly satisfied that at last she has seen enough of the British Museum.

Britain Concerned By Threats of Violence

Britain is on a self-described "red alert" in advance of next week's G20 Summit in the London. Protesters have made no secret of their intent to do everything possible to disrupt the meeting of leaders of the world's 20 wealthiest nations called to discuss the global financial crisis. The newspapers and the BBC are full of threats to smash windows, hang bankers from lamposts in effigy (and perhaps in person) and at least one threat to rush the BBC broadcasting tower and shut it down as a "save the environment" statement. An additional 3000 riot police have been hired to keep the place safe, and bank staff were warned to wear chinos and loafers to work next week in order to not become targets. Over the weekend, the home of the former head of the Royal Bank of Scotland, who made billions in losses and then walked away with a fat pension, was vandalized by a mob who threw rocks threw the windows and damaged a Mercedes in the driveway. The banker, who is currently in South Africa with this family, is said to be strongly considering staying there permanently. We're very glad to be leaving on Monday, two days before all this chaos is supposed to start, but we can't help but reflect on the irony that this is the same Britain which frowned on the colonial mobs that attacked tax collectors and the homes of English governors in the Massachusetts and Virginia not quite 250 years ago. What goes around comes around, perhaps.

A Day Out and About

As our time here comes to a close, we have chosen to spend our last week wrapping up loose ends--revisiting places we love to get a final look or a more in-depth experience, shopping, packing and experiencing this city we have so enjoyed. Today we did a little of both. This morning we revisited St. Bartholomew The Great, a medieval church dating back to the Twelth Century. Laura was so captivate by the space that she arranged a special tour, and special it was since we got to see not only the splendid church interior but also the crypt and one of the medieval burial chambers beneath the church floor. We also had a chance to talk with Father Mark, one of the priests at the church. For the girls, it was just another church, but they considered it worth the price to get to the afternoon's activity: a visit to Kristin's house to play with Owain, Rhys and Gwyneth while Mom and Dad headed downtown. While the girls played, Scott and Laura had an "adult" afternoon in the basement of Fortnum and Mason, the downtown grocery that supplies, among others, the households of the Queen and the Prince of Wales. We sampled really excellent wines, enjoyed each other's company and had a visit with the friendly wait staff before setting off to do a little shopping. It was a wonderful way to spend an afternoon, and certainly the girls far preferred the pizza at Kristin's to the cheese, bread and olive plate on which their parents dined! Oh yeah, and that packing thing? There's always tomorrow.

Olivia's Reading Pile

Olivia has been "turned on" by books since we arrived here. She's shown here with the stack she has plowed through in just the last few weeks. She is enjoying something called the Rainbow Magic series by Daisy Meadows, billed as the number one book for girls in the U.K. She reads them like romance novels at the rate of two or three a day. Fortunately, there are 66 with more being written. Mom and Dad buy them (fortunately, they are 3 for 2) because all this reading is proving a definite plus as her reading level is growing by leaps and bounds that all the reading packets in the world weren't getting us. I hope the library at home has this series or we're going to go broke buying books. (But there are worse things.)

What We're Reading

Olivia isn't the only one finding time to read while we're here. Here' the rest of the reading list for us at various stages of completion:


The History of Britain, Vol. I by Simon Schama (Laura and Scott)
The History of Britain, Vol. II by Simon Schama (Laura)
The History of Britain, Vol. III by Simon Schama (Laura)
Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (Laura)
Wine and Spirits: Looking Behind the Label, publ. by WSET (Laura)
George III: America's Last King by Jeremy Black (Scott)
Oliver Cromwell by John Morrill (Scott)
The Identity of Anglicanism: Essentials of Anglican Ecclesiology by Paul Avis (Scott)
Twenty Years After (Vingt Ans Après) by Alexandre Dumas (Scott)
Stuart Little by E.B. White (Olivia)
Charlotte's Web by E.B. White (Olivia)
The Enormous Crocodile by Roald Dahl (Olivia)


Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen , (Olivia)

Eine, Svein, Drei Wonderful Days

We flew to Berlin on Saturday morning to visit our former exchange student Leo and his family. Although Laura and Scott had both been to Germany before, neither had been to Berlin, a place its own mayor labels "poor but sexy." To be honest, we didn't see much evidence of poverty. What we did see was a lot that waqs fun, interesting and wonderful. In many ways, there is really no other European city quite like Berlin. As a result of division by the Berlin Wall until 1989, the city has a different feel than your standard city operating with a central business district and tourist hub. Berlin has two town centers, one in the west and one in the east, and each is wonderful in its own right. Berlin also has an efficient transportation system and some of the better roads we have seen in Europe. Facilities are modern, the food is excellent, and the people are friendly and engaging and apt to speak to you--which came as a bit of a shock after three months of dealing with the icy reserve of Londoners. The weather was atrocious (cold and rainy) but no worse than we endured in January in London or winter at home. Leo's family went above and beyond to show us hospitality, and even more than seeing the sights (including the remains of the former Berlin Wall above). The girls loved playing in the bedroom of his 7-year-old sister with all her toys. We hardly slept at all, but no one seemed to mind, and the girls came home delighted and behaving delightfully.

Spotlight's On Wally At the Circus

Leo's parents rented a giant SUV (by European standards) for our visit. All nine of us managed to cram in three to a row, including luggage and car seats. The parking of the thing was a challenge lin and of itself! After a quick visit to their spacious flat downtown where we had a quick classic German lunch of "doner kebabs" (a sort of panini with sliced meat and roasted veggies) we went to the circus at Wally's school. We really didn't know what to expect, but whatever it is was, we were blown away as we watched schoolkids produce a full-fledged circus performance, featuring costumed clowns, acrobats, magicians, stunts and even animal acts. Each act was performed by students, ranging in age from 6-11 all of whom, including Wally (who walked on broken glass barefoot and handled a large snake) learned their roles in just three days. No child was left out. Even a couple with severe physical handicaps had roles. And they good! The pride they felt at the enthuistic oohs, aahs and applause that greeted them was obvious to everyone. The entire school was involved, and it is hard to imagine an activity that could do more to build self esteem. Liability concerns probably limit the ability to translate the project to American shores, but we are the poorer for not having it. There is nothing like the spotlight shining on center ring to make a child's eyes glow.

We Learn A Bit About Berlin

Leo with his grandparents, the Berliner Dom in the background; Leo with pizza-making girls; Cousin Julian helps Meredith; Cecily, Meredith and Wally as chefs in the restaurant kitchen.

Saturday morning, we met the whole family--including grandma and grandpa and aunt and cousin--at a local restaurant in the shadow of the magnificently baroque Berlin Dom, (city church) for a buffet breakfast. Scott's eye's nearly fell out of his head at the site of piles of sliced processed meat and cheese options, and the girls made quick work of the German pancakes. After visiting a bit, Meredith and Cecily were invited back to the kitchen to make pizza--chefs' hats, aprons and all. (Olivia, unfortunately, missed out after she got sick and had to return to the hotel for a brief rest.) Once our leisurely brunch broke up, we visited the Old Gallery where we saw a wide representation of German artists, most of whom are not on display in London museums. (Imagine London not having an affinity for German art!) It was unfortunate that we only had time for one museum because Berlin has many, which are conveniently grouped on a single island in the the city. We could have spent days there. Only the girls were glad we didn't have more time. After our art tour, Laura and Olivia rejoined us, and we headed for the remains of the Berlin Wall and the site of the memorial currently under construction. We enjoyed climbing a viewing tower which used to look over the wall to allow West Germans to waive at their friends and family on the other side. We also enjoyed talking to Cordula and Rene about their personal recollections about the time of the wall, which were doubly fascinating since the two of them were raised on opposite sides of the wall. Rene's story follows.

A Personal Story of a Day That Changed The World

Rene had an interesting personal story about the fall of the wall. He said that on the night it was torn down in 1989, he was leading a meeting in East Germany about school restructuring. At 10 a.m., his audience unexpectedly rose spontaneously and left the room, leaving him mystified, but what could he do. He closed his meeting, and went home. At 4 a.m., there was a loud knocking on the door of his apartment. He rose to find at his doorstep to his astonishment a friend who had previously fled over the wall to Hungary. The friend told him that the wall was down, and he must come and see for himself. On arrival at the site of the breached wall, Rene found a lonely East German major "guarding" the breach. He inquired, "If we cross, can we return?" The major wouldn't answer, even when the question was repeated several times. Finally, with a sweep of his hand and a shrug, he simply waived the gathered East Germans through.Thus it was that one small party of East Germans found themselves standing in the other half of their city for the first time in 40 years, not sure where to go and not sure what to do next. It was a uniquely personal glimpse of the exhileration of a people on a momentous night in the history not just of Germany but of the world.

A Little Night Music

Our Sunday morning and afternoon were wonderful, but Cordula and Rene had more in store for us. While the girls headed for the flat to play with Wally's toys, Laura and Scott returned to the hotel and got dressed. The four adults then headed for the Berlin Philharmonic--one of the greatest orchestras in the world. The program was Joseph Haydn's opera, Orlando Paladino, which was performed with orchestra and voices, but not a stage or props. It goes without saying that the music was unworldly in its quality, especially the soprano aria, "Non partir, mia bella face." Even those seated in the rafters must have enjoyed it, but we did considerably better than that. Our seats were amazing. Seated in a front-row box just above the orchestra, we could see and experience everything, including the teleprompters that simultaneously translated the opera from Italian to German. Fortunately, since neither Scott nor Laura speak German, the Philharmonic also provided a printed copy of the libretto in Italian which Laura could read and Scott could follow since Italian is close to his languages of Spanish and French. After the rousing final chorus, "Se volete esser felici" we adjourned to a nearby vinoteca (wine bar) where we enjoyed delicious Greek food, Italian wine , German beer and good conversation that kept us out until after midnight. Astonishingly, when we came home, the girls were still wide awake and happily playing.

The Zoo And The Rest

Despite our late night, the girls were raring to go Monday morning. We bestirred ourselves early, enjoyed delicious German pastries at a shop near the hotel and headed for the bombed out remains of the Church of the Remembrance, now a ruin of a once-glorious church in the fashionable Kurfursterdamm, built by Kaiser Wilhelm I to glorify his family, dynasty and reign. Only a small portion of the building covered with with rich mosaic tiled remains as a memorial to the victims of war and a warning to the dangers of overweening dictatorship. After sightseeing on our own, our hosts picked us up for a visit to Berlin's world-famous zoo--a well run, attractive and spacious place which contrasts sharply with the run-down London Zoo at Regent's Park. The girls squealed with delight at each new discovery, including the newborn elephant and the playful apes and monkeys. When we could stand the wet and cold no more, we adjourned to lunch at KaDeWe--a department store like London's Harrod's but without snooty attitude and excessive people. Laura enjoyed perusing the German wine section, while Scott's quickly nosed out the amazing cheese counter neearby. Afterwards it was back to the flat for more conversation and a late farewell dinner before the family dropped us at our airport hotel , where we caught a few winks before catching our early morning trip back to London.

Olivia's Journal: The Berlin Zoo

Today we went to Germany to visit Leo who was an exchange student for a year. We went to the zoo, and it was raining, so there weren't many people. First, we saw a mommy elaphant with her baby only a week and a day old. Yet, he was as big as Meredith. Then we went to the place where monkeys are. My favorite was the oranatangs. [One] played with a big and kept it with him the whole time. Once he pulled the hair of a huge monkey. There was anather monkey at feeding time that got all the apples and two carrots and hit the one in the corner [to show] him what he had and ran off. Then we saw the seals. One jumped up and saw saw me for a second and jumped down. Then we saw penguins wich are my Aunt Linda's favorite animal. Then we saw the Brown Bear with white wolves. Two of them fau[gh]t [until] the zookeeper threw an apple at the bear who pushed the other bear into the water. Last we saw the polar bear being fed. He got fed bread and oranges and fish and a couple of things. It was a very fun day.

Some Final Notes

Berlin is in some ways the same as the rest of Europe but in other ways different. A few notes: The underground. The underground looks antique but it is cleaner and more efficient than its respective and betterknown counterparts in Paris and London. Although we were riding a main line at rush hour, the crush we are used to in London was nowhere to be seen. Salt. Everything in this country has a lot of salt in it. And there is more salt on the table (as if you would need it.) The worst part about Germany (if there was a bad part) was that we were chronically thirsty, and the more we ate, the more thirsty we were! Languages. Berlin is a crossroads of Europe, and you feel it. At dinner on our last night, we were ordering in German, English and Italian, sometimes all at the same time. Our waiter--an Albanian from Kosovo--switched easily among the three. The girls were thoroughly confused as to what language they were supposed to use but tried valiantly to keep up. Fortunately, everyone was indulgent when a gratcie was substituted for a danke, and we were all amused when Meredith with a big smile sweetly turned to someone holding the door for her and offered up, "Donkey" by way of thanks.

Random Snaps: Berlin

Olivia and Wally found a common interest in playing chess against one another while Scott and Leo kibitzed from the side. Leo was our valiant and invaluable translator; Meredith found culinary "true love" in a drink called Orangina, which she has been promised we will buy on return home.

Germany, Here We Come!

We are headed to Berlin for a few days, starting Saturday morning. We will not be blogging until we return on Tuesday. Look for more adventures then. Aufedersein!

Shah and Tell At the British Museum (Again)

Today, Meredith and Olivia gamely braved a sixth visit to the British Museum to accompany Mom to the Shah 'Abbas exhibit. He was the 17th century (1587-1629) ruler of Iran, who took a poor and threatened (by the Ottoman empire) country and turned it into a formidable Middle Eastern power that expanded its borders, took over control of its own silk trade and built some of the most beautiful and impressive buildings in the Islamic world. We learned that he was a study in contrasts--a pious Muslim who drank wine; a humble man who freely mixed with peasants but who killed his own sons out of fear that one might try to overthrow him (as he overthrew his father); the descendent of an Islamic sufi order who killed many of its leaders for fear they were becoming too powerful. It was interesting to see so many items that have never before been outside of Iran (lamps, carpets, Qurans) and I kept thinking about the fact that such an exhibit probably wouldn't be possible in the United States because of obvious political tensions. That made it all the more ironic that the exhibit curator is an American woman -- Sheila Canby! I wonder what Shah 'Abbas -- or the many wives in his harem -- would have thought about that?

Searching For Meaning At The Geffrye

While Laura, Olivia and Meredith visited the Shah Abbas special exhibition at the British Museum today, Scott and Cecily headed in an alternative direction. Our destination was the Geffrye Museum--dedicated to documenting the life of Britain's middle class as displayed in their homes at different periods. Getting there was a saga in and of itself. We saw a hitherto unvisited portion of London, peopled by immigrants, not particularly well signed and needing a good scrubbing. After a little wandering around, including a walk by Shakespeare's parish church, we found the museum. It is in an old almshouse--a place where the poor and elderly were allowed to live. Frankly, it looks like they still do. Like most museums we have visited, admission was free. That's good, because I'm not sure people would pay to see the collection--notwithstanding the glossy brochure which seems to promise much more. Once you are past the disappointing neighborhood and non-descript displays, however, there is a lot be learned. The English identity is very much tied up in their homes and their displays of personal wealth and taste and has been for hundreds of years. It was interesting to see how tastes have evolved and changed--and it was certainly preferable to another day at the British Museum.

No Sounds of Silence Here

The most amazing thing happened to me today, Laura reports. A Brit spoke to me spontaneously on the street, and she wasn't even intoxicated! The British are a rather reserved lot. Unless you ask a specific question of someone or are a customer in a store or a restaurant, you won't have much opportunity to actually interact with them. I won't bore you with the particulars of the conversation (it wasn't especially interesting), but the fact of the interaction was definitely noteworthy!

Meredith and Mom Go Wild for Lion King

Today was a treat for Meredith and Mom. It was Meredith's first-ever play, and Mom got to see her wonderment and awe at the thrill of it all. We went to see the Lion King at London's Lyceum Theatre. The show is in its tenth year (Olivia saw it in Portland three years ago), and it's very easy to see why it has lasted so long. It is visually stunning, the voices are tremendous and the dancing is awe-inspiring. From the moment the giant elephant and rhinoceros came charging down the aisle next to us with brightly coloured birds circling overhead and the music thundering around us, we knew it was going to be a wonderful show. Meredith could barely contain her joy, as she kept reaching over to squeeze my hand and smile. Twice she forgot to be quiet and exclaimed to me, "Mama, I LOVE this!" I was afraid that parts of the show would scare her and was prepared to watch with her in my lap. But that never happened. She simply loved the show. When it was over, she said she wished she could see the whole thing over again RIGHT NOW. Quite high praise from a little girl with a typical pre-schooler's attention span!

Theatre Manners

One of the cultural differences we've noticed here is the protocol for live theatre. The shows are certainly as good as those we have seen in New York, San Francisco, Portland and St. Louis, but the behavior of the audience is quite different. Not only do people eat and drink in the threater, but they do so during the show! Also, forget about polite applause. These folks engage in catcalls and the sort of cheering that we Americans typically only see at high school graduations and football games. Today at The Lion King, the entire audience began clapping in time to the music during a particularly upbeat song. While I'm glad everyone was enjoying it, I was wishing I could hear the fantastic voices! Then, I was amused when the actor who played the villian, Scar, took his curtain call. Although he was fantastic, he was booed! When I saw his giant smile and the smiles of those around me who were participating in the booing, I realized it was actually a compliment. The audience was showing its approval by booing! All this drove hom the point that while they might look like us and we might even speak the same language, I'm definitely still in a foreign country! (Scott's note: I saw something very similiar when we saw Wicked. I couldn't believe that people were allowed into the theater late, forcing everyone else in the their row to stand to let them in and even more incredibly that most people brought to their seats a glass of wine, a drink or a beer into the theater. The thing is, they do all this as if it were still Shakespeare's Day and they were the groundlings and then they have the nerve to say that the Americans are the ones with no manners!)

Part I, Books In London: Libraries

At left, the entirety of the children's section at the London Central Library;

At right, the entire library!

With Laura and Meredith off enjoying London theater, Scott, Olivia and Cecily were at loose ends. We decided to make the most of our day by searching out books. To do this, we chose two venues: libraries and bookstores. It turned out to be a fascinating cultural experience. The first library we ventured to was the London Lending Library, which brags that it is the largest collection of books available for loan in the world. It probably lives up to that claim with 15 miles of shelving and over a million volumes in its collection. (It claims that as a matter of policy it never throws a book away, and it has been collecting since 1841.) We expected Boston public library, New York Public Library or something similiar. That wasn't quite right. We didn't get inside the front door. This is a membership library. The cost for an annual membership is $395 (about $530.) Since we chose not to pay the fee, we were helpfully referred to the public library at Leicester Square, identified on a tourist map as "London Central Library." So off we went, only to be further disappointed. The "library" is a single large room with a mezzanine. I doubt it is bigger than our library back home, despite the millions it allegedly serves. The children's "section" was essentially a closet. A cultural capital London may be--but only for those rich enough to take advantage of it. As much as anything, this experience makes me proud to be an American.

Part II, Books In London: Bookstores

Our foray to libraries having been an abysmal failure, we moved on to bookstores. We had done our research on the internet and found that both the largest and oldest bookstores in London are located off Piccadilly Circus. So we headed off to Waterstone and to Hatchard, respectively. Readers of this blog know that I've marvelled since we got here that in the country full of history bookstores always seem to be woefully understocked in the history section. Waterstone's did better than most: it had three sections of shelving dedictated to "British History"--the same footage dedicated to the history of transport and slightly less than was dedicated to military history. More interesting was the North American section, a single shelving unit, half of which was dedicated to places like Brazil and Argentina. An entire shelf was dedicated to Che Guevara. And Brits say Americans are challenged by geography! Hatcher's, in business since 1797, is a different story altogether. It has a clubby, wood paneled sort of feel, and an amazing collection. It reminded me of the movie, "84 Charing Cross Road" if you've ever seen it. They have more than 100,000 volumes in stock and ship any book published in the UK anywhere in the world. It unloaded my wallet for me, and will doubtless unload it in the future. As convenient as Amazon is, independent bookstores still have a place in the world.

Olivia's Journal: An Art Critic At The Tate

Today, I went to the Tate Britain. I have five paintings that I liked. Room three--"A Lady of the Spencer Family." by Anthony Van Dyke. Anthany Van Dyke was known for his cloth. He could do amasing cloth. My favorite peice of it was the dress. It had such a brilyant blue, and I love the light coming down on the silk. I also like the pearles. There a brilyant touch. The brilyant blue just litans up the dress. That's the first thing we saw that was my favorite. Next we went to room foar. I found two paintings that I liked. "Old Horse Guards" by Canaletto. Canaletto was most famous view-painter of his day. Wealthy English tourissts who visited Italy colected them. He deceided to visit London in 1746. He remained for the best part of ten years. It was painted in summer 1749 just before the building of the old horse guards (the low brick building in the center) wasvdemolished and replaced by new horse guards which still stands today. My favorite thing about it is you can see people on the left beeting a rug. Room four, "The Strode Family" by William Hogarth. What I like about it is that it has a really dark bacground but when you look at the clothes the picture brightans up. On the dress you can see how good the painter can paint the clothes but I think that Anthany Van Dyke does it better. I like the kind of dog the dogs are. I also like the red and blue. Next we went to room seven. We saw a painting of horses and foals. by George Stubbs. This is one out of at least ten that George Stubbs painted of mares and foals in 1760s. My favorite part was the ponys because I'm horse crazy. The history is a great history. The guide tald us an interesting story. Mr. Stubbs had an interesting story. If his neighbor's horse deid he would come over, get the dead horse and put it over he shoulder and bring it home carrying it on his shoulder.. (He would), cut it up to see how it's bones worked and paint the picture. Last we went to room 15 were we saw a picture called the "Britash Channle seen from the Dorsetshire Cliffs" by John Brett. This view is proble from the cliffs above Lulworth Cove in Dorsetshire. My favorite thing about it is the way the clouds look real and how he can make it look liek the sun was coming down on the water. If you look closely at the water you can see the water is made out of dots. I like the way it looks reel. My favorite piece was the John Brett one. [Editor's note: Olivia's post is original work, although she had the benefit of notes on each piece taken from the Tate website. The editor has added punctuation as necessary. The spelling is Olivia's.]

Learning About Fine Art At The Tate Britain

Today was about British art as we visited the Tate Britain art museum. Apparently, Olivia at least was confused as to our destination. The first thing Olivia she asked was whether there would be any paintings of fuzzy water lillies. Once we explained, again, that this is a British art museum, we were back on track. That said, as is the British way, they pretty much claim anything they want as their own, regardless of pedigree. We haven't yet figured out how American-born Benjamin West, JM Whistler and John Singer Sargent qualify as British but this doesn't seem to bother anybody and their works are proudly displayed. At least these Americans are from a former British colony. It is a bit more complicated to justify the exhibition of Polish art, which perhaps is why it is stuck off in a corner. At any rate, I digress. As always, the 8-year-old seemed curiously enthralled. She quickly picked her favorite paintings, memorizing their titles and artists. (Watch for a future post of her impressions.) And she has a good eye. When we took a formal tour in the late afternoon, we found ourselves returning to works which Olivia had already picked out as favorites! Even more impressive were 5-year-old Meredith and 3-year-old Cecily who correctly identified portraits of English monarchs without any prompting or context whatsoever. In Cecily's case, we walked into the very first room called the Tudor Gallery, and she asked (from her shoulder trhone), "Why is Henry da Eight giving that boy money?" The kids weren't the only ones learning things. One of the more interesting points of discussion along the way was provoked by a guide who told us that people seem to be either Reynolds or Gainsborough afficianados but not both. When we polled to see who fell into which camp, Laura and Scott were surprised to find themselves on opposite sides, with Laura favoring the campy Gainsboroughs (example at left above) while Scott preferred the more staid Reynolds paintings (example at right above). So vote, oh friends and family: which camp are you in?

The St. Pat's Day That Wasn't

OK, we told you earlier about the ambivalence which the English seemed to be approaching St. Patrick's Day--a day so significant in the American calendar that children have school parties to celebrate, everybody wears green to mark it, New York shuts down for it and the President of the United States makes a point of visiting with Irish leaders. Not so here in England, despite the fact that the English have sought to be overlords of Ireland since the days of Edward I and a good part of Ireland remains in British hands. There was no green here today. The front page of the BBC website doesn't even mention the holiday. There are no Irish-themed sales going on, and the newspapers are full of news about a criminal in Austria and a movie star involved in a skiing accident. Even the pubs don't play up the holiday. While the African-American President of the United States wears green ties, dies the fountains at the White House and drops hints that his mother was of Irish extraction, for Brits, March 17 is just another work day. Weird indeed.

Victoria and Albert: Third Time's a Charm

Today is the third time on this trip that we have been back either as a group or individually to the Victoria and Albert Museum, and still we didn't finish it. Perhaps that should come as no surprise. After all, the place has 9 MILES of corridors, 4.5 MILLION objects and covers 5,000 YEARS of history (give or take a century or two). All we can report at this point in our venture is that we gave it a valiant try. Unlike our previous two trips, we did take the guided tour this time. That was valuable and educational in and of itself, but a highlight was when the guide invited the girls to touch a genuine Chinese Ming Vase around 550 years old. We couldn't believe it, but tactile experiences are one of the hallmarks of the V&A. We discovered this again when Laura, Olivia and Meredith visited a special exhibition on the history of hats where they greatly enjoyed trying them on for size. Unfortunately, pictures were not allowed, but the girls returned determined to find Easter bonnets that would do the museum proud.

Meredith Tackles The Tough Stuff

You have to hand it to 5-year-old Meredith: Once she makes her mind to do something, she will not be deterred until its done. Thus, although Scott was surprised this morning when she announced that she was ready to write her name in cursive, he had no doubt she could do it. And she did. The writing on the top is Dad's (minus the hearts, which Meredith added later.) The bottom signature is Meredith's free-hand copy. Pretty good, for somebody who hasn't started kindergarten yet!

She Likes Me, She Really Likes Me!

Cecily and the Newspapers

This blog would not be complete without mentioning Cecily's obsession with the free newspapers handed out at no charge in London in front of the tube stops each evening. She collects them--all of them--each night and carries them home. Then she sits on the floor or on her bed and "reads" them, often after she was told to go to sleep. If she spots one left behind on the train, she won't be satisfied until she had captured it, opened it and "read" it. Her collection techniques are worth noting, too. Undeterred from her great height on Dad's shoulders, she somehow manages to get the attention of all the vendors, transfer the papers she has already picked up to the opposite hand and grab another one without Dad ever breaking stride. And once she's got them, she's plenty careful to keep them tucked up and out of Dad's face, since she knows the penalty for that is a quick trip to the trash can. It's really a remarkable to see. Perhaps all those journalism degrees in the family have somehow rubbed off on our youngest child. Any newspaper publishers out there want to scholarship your next circulation manager to college?