Dans Le Eurostar

Bonjour!
Ok, Pil, what up with the French?
Well, since I am in France now, it makes sense to me.
Howdja get there?
See the title of the post!  I took the Eurostar direct from London St. Pancras to Lyon.  I wanted very much to come here, and I like the Eurostar, but I dreaded the transfer with luggage on the Paris Metro. Imagine my delight to find that the Eurostar does come here without the pesky Paris stop.  The ultimate destination is Marseilles, but before that the train stops in Avignon.  My journey was a little over four hours.  These trains do not run that often, and mine left early, so I had to get up and go.
I had a quick trip to St. Pancras International--a very snazzy train station full of luxury shops.  But do not become distracted.  In order to get on the train one must go through security as at the airport and passport control.  They close access a half hour before the train leaves and are Very Strict.  Be warned and show up on time.
I had a window seat, and my seat mate was a very pleasant English woman.  There was a delay due to some traffic issue in the tunnel, but the rest of the trip was smooth.  I was bemused by a conversation among the family in the seat in front of me.  Mom (I think they are Canadian) was adamant that they have extra adaptors.  She'd set one out especially, but Pop did not pack it.  Mom would not let this go and went on and on.  Let me say something about adaptors.  I brought mine--two sets, because the UK and Continental Europe have different sorts of plugs.  In London at least they are widely available, which makes me think tourist and their gadgets just show up not knowing the deal.
Ahh. I'm sipping the rose I pulled off the supermarket shelf and am noshing on nuts.  I'm settled in at last, but it took some getting here.  Once I got off the train in Lyon things began to get murky.
I knew the name of the street I was looking for, and I knew the direction I needed to go, but I could not find the street or any indication of where to go.  I wandered and circled.  Finally I went back to the station hoping I could find some kind of tourist information desk.  All I could find was SNCF (Society Nationale de Chemin de Fer, i.e. railway) information, so seeing no alternative I got in line. I explained to the young woman at the desk what I needed.  Without my asking she looked up my accommodations on the internet and printed out a map!  I do not ever EVER want to hear about how the French are rude and unhelpful.  If you need to bad mouth French people, please do not do it in front of me.  This is not the first time, I have received great kindness.
Ok.  Armed with the map, I set out again, but it was not easy.  Citadines is rather tucked away, but I did get here clearly.  Then I had to set out for groceries.  I'd passed a zillion--on conservative estimate--grocery stores on my way here, but could I find them again?  Ha!  After much wandering I did find a grocery store very nearby, but it was one of the ones that close in the middle of the day. Fortunately I'd arrived just a few minutes before opening so I was able to get my stuff--including that nice rose that did not violate my five euro rule.  But this one is kind of a mini mart, so I'm going to have to hit up the supermarket in the giant shopping center, but also I am very close to something called Les Halles de Paul Bocuse, which has very serious food.  I'll visit tomorrow when I explore my new city.
A demain!

A Rainy London Day

A Proper Good Morning to You,
I came back a bit early for two reasons--it's raining pretty hard, and I am catching the Eurostar to Lyon very early tomorrow so I need to mostly pack up this evening.
The temperature dropped by ten degrees Centigrade from yesterday, so I was a bit chilly this morning as I made my way down Kingsway to the Strand. It was an easy walk downhill to Somerset House, and I was there before my target opened so I strolled around.
My first target for the day was the Courtauld Gallery at Somerset House.  There are a lot of things at Somerset House.  It used to hold the Admiralty Offices, and one time I sneaked in there to use the toilet and did not get caught.  Ha!  But the Courtauld is a small but very distinguished art collection which works from the Late Middle Ages right up to the Early Twentieth Century.  I find their Impressionist and Post Impressionist exhibits more impressive than the Tate Modern's.  One of the highlights is Manet's A Bar at the Folies Bergere, but there are also some very nice Matisseses and a lot of intriguing Cezannes.  I always start at the top floor and work my way down.  This generally takes me in reverse chronological order, but since I know what I'm looking at, it does not matter.
Also at Somerset House I happened upon a perfume "tasting."  Well, why not?  So I went through with a group of British women about my age and we sniffed and made notes.  Some of the scents were lovely.  A couple were--real stinckers.  No, I do not want to walk around smelling like a burnt out barbecue pit.
By this time it was raining lightly.  I found my tube station, but on the way I came across the Twining's Shop--the original dating from 1731 or thereabouts.  It's long, narrow, and packed to the rafters with tea.  I stopped in to look.  Of course, I did!  Besides most of the usual Twining's offerings, there was some fancier and correspondingly more expensive blends.  I might go back to pick up something before I come home.
Then I tubed off in search of the Wallace Collection.  I miscalculated my stop, so I had to walk and consult my map a lot but I got there eventually.  The Wallace Folks are a class act.  They were offering visitors plastic sleeves for our dripping umbrellas.
The house is worth visiting for its own sake.  There are very few remaining aristocratic mansions still in existence in London, and fewer still are open to the public.  But this one also happens to be crammed with paintings, fabulous furniture, and other object d'art.  It's also free.
Inevitably there are Canalettos--the dude was prolific!  But the collection includes a lot of lovely Dutch genre paintings and a lot of landscapes I would not be ashamed to hang on the walls of my condo, since the British are so narrow minded about letting me make off with the Constables.  You can even find Rembrandt and Rubens.  Most people want to see Franz Hals's Laughing Cavalier.  I also had a good look at Fragonard's The Swing.  As I remarked to a fellow viewer, "It's a very naughty painting."  She laughed and agreed.
I picked up the Central Line at Bond Street to return to Holborn, but I did not go straight home.  Instead I made for Neal's Yard Dairy for More Cheese. Want to watch while I try some?
First a long, refreshing drink of pear cidre.  I'll be drinking wine in France.  I didn't here because I like cidre just fine, wine is expensive, and getting it from the grocery store--is involved because of anti theft devices.  Anyway.  I have a nice, mild goat cheese called Dornstone, which is slightly salty and very good.  The flavor develops in the mouth.
The next cheese is Cheddar--the famous Montgomery Cheddar--in other words the Real Thing.  My first bite of actual, as opposed to industrial Cheddar, six years ago was a revelation.  I am trying a different harder and stronger sort this time, but oooh.  So good.  It's so rich and cheesy.  That orange stuff you get in the supermarket is a faint echo.  The apple cidre is perfect with it.
Cheerio!  The next time I post it will be from Lyon, France.

A Royal Day Out

A Proper Good Morning to You.
"A Royal Day Out" is what it said on my ticket.  Yes, I went to Buckingham Palace!  It's been open to the public for many years now, but I have never before been in London at the right time, so it was on my list.  I admire HMQ Elizabeth II for her devotion to her country and duty, so I got a combi ticket for the Queen's Gallery, Royal Mews, and State Rooms and claimed my discount for being over sixty, which saved me three pounds.  I offered my passport, but the gracious young woman at the ticket counter explained to me that they just took people at their word adding it doesn't matter how they look.  The ticket prices include auto guides which are very well done.
It took some getting there.  My local station was closed for departures.  Fine. I walked down to Covent Garden Station.  I could have in fact walked all the way to Green Park, but it would have taken me about forty minutes, and I wanted to get there early.  I anticipated a line as I knew the Palace was a popular site.  In fact there was no line, and I got a timed entry to the Queen's Gallery right away.
I lucked (at least one of my readers would use another word) into a wonderful exhibition of Canalettos.  He is in my opinion a very underrated artist.  Modern taste has moved on from the naturalistic and idealized, so Canaletto is not especially in favor with the art establishment, but in his day he was deservedly popular and very successful.  Canaletto specialized in vedute--cityscapes--mostly of his native Venice, but he also visited London and did some views of the city and the river.  When I showed his work to my students, they could not believe at first it was a painting thinking because of the clarity and detail, it must be a photo.  But the clarity, detail, and composition is what makes it art.  I appreciate the quality of the light Canaletto creates.  My friend JMW Turner agreed with me.
My next stop was the Royal Mews where HMQ (That's Her Majesty the Queen to you colonials) keeps her cars, horses, and carriages.  Visitors get to meet a couple of the horses.  I saw two large and beautiful bays having their post exercise breakfast.  HMQ names them herself.  The most interesting and beautiful part of the exhibition were the royal coaches.  They have all names and specific purposes and are still used frequently.  When you are appointed as Ambassador to the Court of St. James, one of these coaches will come to fetch you so you can present your credentials to HMQ at St. James's Palace, which is not far from Buckingham Palace.  That one by the way is never open to the public.
Then I had a hiatus before my timed admission to the State Apartments.  I decided to walk down to Victoria Station and snoot around.  The place was a zoo--as always.  And the it turned hot and humid.  I walked back to Green Park where I had some good but horribly overpriced ice cream--rum raisin, if you want to know.
I showed up for my visit and was shown into a room to wait.  Then we were let in to go through security and pick up our audio guides.  The State Rooms are beautiful and grand and very much worth seeing and the audio guide is helpful.  On exhibit were also gifts given to HMQ from various parts of the world.  The highlight as far as I was concerned were the paintings and sculptures from the Royal Collection.  HMQ holds them in trust for the nation, and it is an extraordinarily impressive gathering of art.  I was very taken by an exquisite Vermeer of A Lady at a Virginal.  The Rembrandts are amazing, and of course I always enjoy good portraits.  To my surprise, there were also several lovely marble sculptures by Antonio Canova.
I was tired by then, but the tour ends with a refreshing walk through part of the grounds past green lawns and a lake.  The nice lady at the exit offered me directions.  I wanted Green Park.  I think she just heard park and directed me to Hyde Park, but actually this worked out.  It was probably closer at that point than Green Park and the Hyde Park Corner tube is on the Piccadilly Line, so it's a straight shot to Holborn.
I got some more pear and apple cidre.  Good!  And I had a nice salad.  The main dish is a chicken and mushroom pie, which I find sufficiently English.  It's very tasty.  The "crust" is potato and the filling is nicely mushroomy and chickish with what tastes like thyme gravy.
The forecast tomorrow is for rain, so I am going to have to change my plans for my field trip to Kent to visit a stately home.  No fear!  I have a couple of art galleries on my radar--well, of course I do!

A Tale of Two Tates

A Proper Good Morning to You,
I need a refreshing sip of pear cidre.  Ahhh!  I came home all hot and wilted, but first I drank water.  I did a LOT of walking today--quite a bit of it unnecessary because in true Pil fashion I got turned around a lot, but I also hopped back on the museum train and saw a lot of great art.  Today is a Bank Holiday.  I am not quite sure what that is except people get off work, and presumably banks are closed.
First off I paraded down New Oxford Street to pick up the Victoria line at Oxford Circus, so I could alight at Pimlico for the Tate Britain.  Naturally I made a wrong turn getting out of the tube station, but that was ok.  I had a nice stroll down to the river, and I would have had to walk around anyway before the museum opened, and I still got to the Tate Britain in good time.  It was nicely uncrowded!
I was really there for the Turners, and I visually feasted on them.  Joseph Mallord William Turner was almost immediately successful and popular even in his own time, which I find most interesting considering how radical his technique could be. Truth to tell I like Constable better.  Turner felt obliged to occasionally give the public some kind of history or narrative work that featured human figures.  One can tell that his heart wasn't in it.  The only kind of drama he craved was wild wind or stormy seas.  Human feeling did nothing to stimulate his art.  Constable is much better at incorporating human figures into his works, but that's because he was Not About Drama, instead wishing to portray the countryside he saw as accurately as he could.  The results are not just beautiful but mesmerizing.
There's a lot of other stuff in the Tate Britain including some contemporary installations.  I happen to enjoy the Pre Raphaelites, and John Singer Sargent, but I also had fun with some eighteenth century portraits.
Then off to the Tate Modern!  I made my way back to Pimlico and transferred to the District Line at Victoria.  I'd picked out a stop that would bring me within easy walking distance of the Millennium Bridge that would take me across the Thames to the Tate Modern which occupies a large former power station on the south bank of the river.  The choice of stop was not bad, but once I exited the tube, I did not read the map correctly, went the wrong direction, and ended up walking along a heavily trafficked road on what was becoming a hot afternoon.  At length I reached the bridge and crossed it.
The Tate Modern is a bit confusing--or else I was tired by then?  But there are a lot of goodies within.  I was unexpectedly taken by some Miros, and there is a splendid collection of Rothkos among many other artists.  The museum features sculpture, painting, installations, and multi media and was fairly crowded this afternoon.
Arted out, I recrossed the bridge and caught the tube at St. Pauls.  Dinner is not exciting today.  As mentioned I was pretty wilted, so I stopped in at Pret a Manager (they are everywhere!) for a chicken and avocado sandwich.  At least it's getting washed down with English cidre.  You don't need to feel sorry for me, since all of Pret's ingredients are organic, and the sandwiches are very good. Still, I'll try to do better tomorrow.

Kew Gardens

A Proper Good Morning toYou!
Even I get museumed out, so it was time for a change of pace.  Oyster Card in hand I lit out for the famous Royal Botanical Garden at Kew.
Pil, what is this Oyster Card you keep referring to?
The London Transport System is integrated, so cards and passes work on the tube, overground, Docklands Light Railway, suburban trains, and (ugh) busses.  The card is one of those electronic jobs that the passenger taps in using a special card reader on entering and taps out on leaving the transport.  The fare is automatically deducted and is cheaper than the normal single ride fare.  The bearer can add credit by card or cash, and having the Oyster Card saves queueing for tickets and fumbling for change.  I love it!
It took me about an hour to get to Kew from Holborn.  I had to wait and change lines at South Kensington.  It was another beautiful, brilliantly sunny day--a good one for getting out of the city on a nice Sunday afternoon, and a zillion other people had the same idea I did.  I had to wait in line to get into the gardens for about ten minutes.
The ticket clerk asked me if I was over sixty.  I admitted to this and offered my passport.  He told me he would trust me.  I said it would be more flattering if he didn't and forced him to look at my birthdate.  Being older saved me a pound on admission, but I am not altogether sure I am happy about this.
Kew Gardens is huge, but most of the people stay near the entrance where the greenhouses and formal flower gardens are.  I took off for the interior.  My first target was the tree top walk.  I wanted to do this before I got tired.  A very high walkway supported by pylons meanders among a stand of different kinds of trees and offers some lovely views. When I came down I just wandered the many paths. I came upon a lake with swans.  I was often under the trees.  Everything was cool, green, and peaceful, and I blessed myself for having such a wonderful relaxing day while getting in some exercise.  But I do get tired and the afternoons are hot, so I tubed back to the city
I have branched out a bit in the matter of drink.  I have some pear cidre for an aperitif. Very nice!  It's not too sweet and is mildly pearish.  For dinner there is the Other English National Dish--chicken tikka masala.  One can get good and authentic Indian food in London, and I might just do that, but chicken tikka masala is an English take.  The chicken has been braised in a spicy red curry sauce.  It's hot but not very. I'm having mine with rice, and it tastes pretty good.
There's desert, too.  I picked up a traditional pastry in Kew called Maid of Honor.  There's a puff pastry shell and a sweet filling with egg and sugar.  Yum!

A Walk Through Civilization

Mostly Western and given where I am I should spell it Civilisation.  In other words I went to the British Museum.
And A Proper Good Morning to You
My apartment does not come with a teapot.  Seriously.  This is Britain.  What gives?  But I have learned to improvise, so I am never deprived of morning tea; it merely gets brewed in a pan covered by a plate.
The BBC is utterly fascinated with Hurricane Harvey and is giving it major coverage.  Refreshingly to my mind the BBC ignores the forty-fifth President of the United States.
I began the day with a trip to the grocery store fortunately uncrowded on a Saturday morning.  I took my time and had a good look around although I did not come out with much.  I got some more of that cidre.  I really liked it, and it should go well with my cheese.  I also got a salad to make up for the cheese and some of a tea I really like that I can't get in the United States.  I'll make sure I bring some home with me.  I used the self check out but still needed help because the machine did not like my banknote.  Eventually I'll be independent, but by then it will be time to leave.
It's a very short stroll to the British Museum so I decided to walk around before it opened and made a nice loop through leafy Bloomsbury.  I arrived in good time to thread the entrance and go through security.  The place was packed--on a fine Saturday morning, of course it was, but I still got a good view of the pickings.  The British Museum does not go in for Modern History, but everything else from all corners of the globe is on offer and it is very well displayed and the tags are informative.  You can also rent an audio guide, but some of us are (ahem) above that being so (cough) familiar with the collection.  Of course most of the exhibits are royal or luxury items, but the Museum does make an effort to show as much every day life as it can, which is something I appreciate.  If your time is limited don't miss the Egyptian Halls--one upstairs with mummy cases, artifacts, and the tomb frescos from my old pal Nebamun.  Apparently we know more about him, and he was not such a big deal after all, which may explain the radical nature of a few of the frescos. Daring chap.
Downstairs the visitor can find the Egyptian statuary, some wonderful reliefs from Ninevah, and, of course, the Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon.  They are not to be missed.  I fear Brexit has put paid to any chance of them ever being returned to Greece.
I also--finally--got to see the Standard of Ur in person.  It was on loan on a previous visit.  It's beautiful to be sure but very much smaller than I thought it was.  There was piles more than I looked at, including a special exhibition of English watercolors (Turner! Constable!) but even I get museum fatigue.
I strolled down to Holborn tube station, fed my Oyster Card and lit off for Green Park.  The park is indeed very green, but not at all elegant or manicured.  A lot of other folks had the same idea as I did for a nice Saturday afternoon walk.  After than I went down Piccadilly to Fortnum and Mason where I examined the teas and winced at the price and tried an "exclusive" scent called Pomegranate Rose, which actually smells like something one would drink.
Having dispatched my virtuous salad, I see that it is time for cheese.  First up is a raw cows milk number called Tunworth.  It is a stinky sort of cheese made like Camembert, and it smells like the French version.  I have cut off the rind, and the vehicle for consumption is some whole wheat toast.  I sip cidre.  Now for a bite.  Mmm!  Rich. Unctuous.  This tastes like real Camembert--not the stuff I can get in the United States.  You won't get this luscious copy in the USA either--raw milk and not aged long enough.
Now for the goat cheese called Innes Log (Raw milk. Don't bother to look for it in the United States).  It, too, has a rind, which I have trimmed.  I am actually doing this backwards because the milder goat cheese should have come first, but the Tunworth was far gooeier, and this cheese is firmer.  Now for bite.  Just--lovely!  It reminds me of some Valencay I had in Paris a few years ago.  It's mild tasting but the flavor develops in the mouth and is complex and rich.  No one can claim I did not throw myself into the choice.  I had five goat cheeses and four cows milk before making my decision.
And for the record the cidre, sweetish and applely and not very strong, was lovely with the cheese, but a nice dry rose would probably have been better.

A Visit with Some Old Art Friends

A proper good morning to you!
I had a very pleasant--although not very long--first day out.  I got some decent sleep, and I feel good although tired from all the walking around.  The weather is perfect.  It's sunny but not hot.
I was proud of myself yesterday for figuring out the elevator and room door.  We get one of those magic cards rather like an Oyster Card only for accommodation.  I also figured out the plumbing.  It's not just a matter of turning water on and off.  There's a system . . .
I set off and strolled from Holborn to New Oxford Street because I wanted to lick some windows before the National Gallery opened. Whoa. There is a LOT of construction going on, which I hope is a good post Brexit sign of prosperity.  Every single street I was on had something major going on so we pedestrians had many diversions and detours.
I arrived at my target shortly after it opened, and for a wonder the place was not packed.  The National Gallery, London is huge and comprehensive. It's just paintings--ha just!  One could (and I in fact did) spend hours gazing upon one masterpiece after another.  A lot of the AP Art History curriculum works come from this museum, so I had a lot of "Old Friends" in the collection.  I could make a hugely long list of works. I won't, but I will mention a few.  I came upon Holbein's French Ambassadors and asked the room attendant where to stand to see the skull snap into place.  He showed me and also treated me to a lecture about the work. I mentioned I taught Art History, but he ignored me and continued to lecture giving an unfortunately distorted view of the historical context.  As I said, Londoners love an ignorant foreigner, and he was clearly so keen to impart some knowledge I didn't have the heart to interrupt him, and besides other viewers had gathered around.  And I also have to admit he pointed out some features of the work I did not know about.  I had a good look at Van Eck's Arnofini Marriage and marveled at the detail considering that the painting is not that big.
Leonardo's Virgin of the Rocks has a special display room to itself--and well deserved.  The museum features a notable collection of Titian including his glorious Bacchus and Ariadne, and there are some first rate Rubens and Rembrandt.  I was very pleased to see the Claudes and Canalettos getting due attention.  There's nothing wrong with a painting's being pretty after all.  I made sure I visited Turner and Constable.  I love looking at the Haywain and picked out a lot of details in the work like the farm workers in the background not evident even on the best of plates.  There are a few Impressionist and Late Nineteenth Century works, but most of those are in other museums, which I am likely to visit.
But art fatigue sets in even for me, so I set off down the Strand meaning to make a loop that would take me through Covent Garden and then back home. I had some food targets in mind.
Today's meal will have a definite Iberian theme, but since London is an international city, I do not apologize for deviating from English food. Let's begin the repast with an assortment of Spanish olives both green and black.  The green ones are slightly piquant, and the black ones are mild and satisfyingly oily.
I stopped in a shop for some Spanish ham. This is the famed Bellota Bellota made from free range pigs who feed on acorn, and the product is correspondingly expensive.  I got a sandwich upon which I ordered olive oil and tomato to assuage my nutritional conscience.  Let's have a bite.  The ham does not taste at all like American ham.  It's very mild, but the flavor develops as one chews and is complex and becomes rich tasting.
My last stop of the day was Neal's Yard Dairy near Covent Garden.  This is Cheese Heaven.  For a while I was the only one in the shop, and let me tell you the people who work here are Very Keen on Cheese and are delighted with any interest in their wares.  I got to taste a lot of truly wonderful cheeses, and I bought a couple, too--but you are going to have to wait on them.

Greetings from London!

Hold on a minute.  I need to have a bite of succulent freshly fried fish and chips. Mmm boy!  I have a custom that my first evening meal in London has to be fish and chips.  So good. I just need to be careful not to get grease on my keyboard.  The great thing about coming back to a place is that one knows where things are.  I knew where my aparthotel was, and the cash machine, and the grocery store--and of course the traditional chippie (one of the oldest remaining in London) within easy walking distance.  The best liquid accompaniment to this tastiness is cidre probably brought to England by my Norman ancestors.  The fish is battered and fried crisp and golden, but the inside (I had cod) is moist and tender.  The chips are not fries.  They are not dark and not crisp. Instead they are pale thick and meaty. And of course I ordered it with salt and malt vinegar.
My trip here went very smoothly.  I was the only one in the van, so we went straight to the airport.  The driver tried to persuade me I wouldn't arrive until Friday, and he was polite about my counter information, but I doubt he believed me. He also taught me how to recognize Uber and Lyft cars, which understandably he found annoying.
I got to the airport early, checked in right away, and was directed to the TSA Priority line, so I didn't have to take off my shoes or show my baggie full of compliant toiletries.  I did set off the scanner though, so I had to wait a bit and show the guy my computer, which he admired.
I upgraded to Premium Economy on Virgin Atlantic. Very Nice! I hope I can always swing the upgrade.  I was on one of the new Dreamliners, and there was no business class, just first, us, and economy. The seats were more padded and a bit bigger, and there was more leg room, and even though I am a small adult it made a difference.  We also had attendants dedicated to our cabin, so service was fast and cheerful. Before take off, I was given a nice glass of prosecco--inadequately chilled, but still very pleasant  I also had gin and tonic before dinner. The food was airline food, but served on actual plates with real silverware.
The plane even arrived early.  I got through passport control pretty quickly, and my bag came out fast.  I hiked to the tube station.  The ticket offices are all gone and replaced by machines.  The good news is that I could still get an Oyster Card for my tube trips, and there were Underground Employees around to help jet lagged foreigners with said machines.
Speaking of machines . . .  all the grocery stores have gone to self check out, but I explained to an employee that I was a foreign visitor.  Londoners love ignorant foreigners!  We are fun to teach, so he showed me how to use the machine and I got my food and drink.
My room is comfortable and quiet.  I am likely to crash soon as I have been awake for more than twenty-four hours.
Oh and the picture?  It's kind of a joke.  The English name their bells, and the bell in this tower is Big Ben, but Ben has been silenced for maintenance.